Page 39 of Make or Break

“What do you mean?”

“If the hot tub is in an enclosed balcony, we could skinny-dip.”

I cut the onion in half, willing myself not to get hard. “Woman. You’ve got more of a one-track mind than I do.”

“No. I was looking forward to hanging with you in the pool, but the hot tub works, too. What about the boat? Do you take it out on the water?”

“Boat’s out, Mick.”

She leaned against the counter close to me. “That sounds firm.”

“It is.”

“Why?”

“I get seasick. That’s one of the reasons I’m not on that damned cruise with Mom, her friends, and my sister’s family.”

“They make drugs for that, my man.”

My man. Those words were music to my ears - a melody I’d enjoy every day…if I could have it.

I concentrated on dicing the onion. “Yeah, and that shit makes people drowsy. What the fuck is the point of taking a vacation just to feel nauseous or sleepy - or worse, both? Plus, I’m pretty sure you aren’t supposed to drink while taking that stuff. Fuck that. Give me dry land any day.”

“Noted. No riverboat trips on the Mississippi for you, then.”

I shook my head. If she really wanted that - and we were actually in New Orleans - something told me I’d do whatever it took to give her that.

Mickayla sat back on the fancy bar chair and dabbed at her lips with a napkin. “You were holding out on me over Christmas.”

I set my beer down and leaned toward her. “You kicked me out of your kitchen.”

She mulled that over and smiled. “Perhaps. What I’m saying is that pork tenderloin dinner was excellent, Tundra. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Do you have to work tomorrow?”

She picked up her glass of white wine. “No, surprisingly.”

“Why is that a surprise?”

She took a sip and shrugged. “Now that we hired two more people, it isn’t, but it hits different I guess. Are you working tomorrow?”

“I’m off until the fifth.”

“Wow,” she drawled.

I shook my head. “Movin’ into an apartment. Got a bed arriving tomorrow and other shit coming on the third.”

She sat forward. “Oh. Where’s your apartment?”

“Off Herlong and Fouraker.”

“Not far from the bar,” she said.

If it weren’t for Lark telling me that he’d made the triplets scout the area surrounding On a Lark in a one-, five-, and ten-mile radius, I’d be surprised she knew the area.

“More like it’s central to the clubhouse, Platinum’s, and On a Lark.”

She nodded. “I’ll be sure to get moving in the morning so you—”