I’m pissed as hell as I storm around the vehicles to get to the woman who has been doing nothing but giving me a headache, haunting my dreams, and generally making my life a living hell the last few weeks. I’m all set to light into her, but one thing stops me.

I look down and see that damn man’s hand on her. He’s got his hand on her ass. His fingers are stretched across one juicy cheek and digging in enough that you can see the outline of his fingers as they bite into her soft skin. His hand looks wrong on her. It’s older, weathered and has tinges of oil here and there. That’s not it. That’s not what I don’t like about it. What I don’t like most about it is that it’s not mine. That makes zero sense, but it’s definitely true.

Then, the damn woman turns around as pretty as you please, leans back against the old truck like she doesn’t have a care in the world, and taunts me.

“Hi, Big Daddy.”

Memories of our night in Vegas

Even with her turned around, the stupid ass Leroy still has his hand on her ass.

“For real, man. Take your fucking hand off my wife’s ass,” I warn him, ignoring Faith right now.

“Wife?” Leroy mumbles. “You married to this guy, Faith?”

“That fucking ring on her finger tell you anything, asshole?” I answer. Faith looks down at her hand, frowning.

“There’s no call for you to get pissed here, son.”

“This is not pissed. This is mildly upset. You don’t take your hand off Faith’s ass, you will see pissed then.”

“I don’t want any trouble. Didn’t know the little lady was married.”

“There won’t be trouble… If you move your fucking hand.”

Leroy seems to size me up and then he holds his hands up like that should make me happy. It doesn’t. Although at this point I’m more pissed at Faith than anything—or anyone—else.

“If it was my woman, I wouldn’t be letting her work for old Joe. I sure wouldn’t be letting her do anything dressed like she is.”

“Damn woman didn’t stay where I put her.”

“They can be contrary like that,” Leroy agrees, relaxing.

“The woman, as you so delicately put it, has a brain of her own,” Faith huffs, obviously offended.

I let my eyes rake over her, taking in her body from head to toe. She’s better than my tequila-soaked brain remembered. All tits, ass, and legs, and all of it better than good. Her face, though, it’s fucking extraordinary. Delicate, in a way you want to admire it, caress… Own it. Her eyes are pools that seem to glitter and if a man’s not careful he could drown in them. Hell, even her eyebrows are something. Perfectly formed and they have a way of curving when she’s annoyed—which she is most definitely at this moment—that made my dick sit up and take notice.

“Don’t look like it,” I tell her, and as if on cue there goes them damn eyebrows. Her face colors and those blue pools narrow at me. For some damn reason, I fight a smile.

“What are you saying?”

“Any woman with a brain wouldn’t be prancing her ass in the cold wind of Colorado like you are,” I answer her, point blank.

“It’s my uniform,” she growls and she leans into me. As she does so I worry her damn tits are going to fall out of her bikini top.

“It’s a fucking bikini, wife.”

“It’s the uniform Joe gave me to wear, Big Daddy.”

“Then I’ll be dealing with Joe next.”

“Huh?”

“Get your shit together. Been chasing your ass for weeks. Got stuff to do.”

“Got stuff to do?”

“That’s what I said.” Any other time this back and forth might be mildly amusing. Right now, it’s annoying. Probably a mixture of things beginning and ending with Faith.

“Then might I suggest you go do them and leave me alone. I’m happy here.”

“Can’t do that, considering we’re married now.”

“Wait, how long you been married?” Leroy asks, and I let out a breath which sounds more like a rumbling growl. I thought he left. Faith doesn’t realize it just yet, but I’m getting very close to the edge of my control.

“Almost a month,” I answer him, my look and tone warning him I could snap him like a damn stick.

“One day,” Faith answers obstinately. I find myself rubbing above my eye, irritation trying to bring on a headache and that headache has my “wife’s” name on it.

“One day?”

“We were married in Vegas, Leroy, in a drunken haze of tequila.”

“You forgot the sex, wife.”

“I didn’t forget. I just didn’t want to bring it up, Big Daddy.”

I’m going to spank her ass.

“No need to be embarrassed now,” I mock her. Since she’s been gone, I’ve remembered some of our wedding night and one of the best memories is the way she screamed and begged for me out on the balcony.

“Are you sure?” she asks. There’s something in her question that makes me curious.

“Definitely,” I tell her—mostly because I don’t like the idea of Faith being ashamed of anything we did together, even if the alcohol was to blame.

“Whatever. Can you leave? Joe’s going to get tired of me standing around and I need to earn money.”

“If you were my woman, you wouldn’t need to worry about money, Faith,” Leroy says, making his ass known again. I really need to squash that asshole.

“Aw, Leroy, you’re such a sweetie. And I want you to know your tips have helped me greatly. I almost have enough saved up.”

“What are you saving for, darlin’?”

“A divorce.”

“Well now, you don’t say. How much do you need for this divorce?”

“You’re shitting me right now,” I growl, interrupting their conversation.

Faith looks up at me, blinking her eyes and trying to look as innocent as the day she was born.

Why do I get the feeling she’s never been innocent in her life?