“Only if you’re prepared to lose again.”
“You little stinker!” I swat at him, and he skitters off, laughing.
His limbs look long and lanky. I swear he’s visibly grown in just the last couple weeks.
Suddenly, I’m the one in need of an overwrought goodbye. He might grow another inch in the eight hours I’m gone at work. By the time I get home, he’ll have a goatee and a credit score.
I walk into the foyer, not even sparing a passing glance for the tall figure leaning against the front door. I’ve resigned myself to the overbearing presence of my bodyguards.
“Are you ready?” I ask, expecting Leif, Leonty, or Olaf to open the door for me—if I have to be under lock and key, at least they’re gentlemen about it.
But the man who turns his broody, silver eyes on me is no gentleman.
I successful
