And nothing else did make sense. There had been a time in my life when I’d had nothing to lose and what was happening now would’ve just had me packing my shit up and truckin’ out of town for a while. But now … now I had everything to lose, and I would fight tooth and nail to keep it. Whoever was setting me up was going to find their own bullet buried in their back, and that swamp boat was going to come in handy.

“But that doesn’t make sense either. A frame job? By who?” Elle whispered. It was clear my words had shoved a wedge between us because she rolled away and stood. But then she reached out and grabbed my hand, laced her fingers with mine, and tugged. “Come on. There’s nothing you’re going to figure out in the next twenty minutes, so you might as well come shower with me. Wouldn’t want to waste water.”

The impish curve of her lips—and the absolutely knockout body she wasn’t attempting to cover—pushed all other thoughts from my mind. When a naked woman who looked like Elle took your hand and asked you to follow her, you didn’t think twice about that shit. You went.

“Conserving water is the responsible thing to do … but I have a feeling if I get you in that shower, it’s going to last a lot longer than if I were in there by myself.” My feet hit the floor, and I rose from the bed.

We were late to work. But luckily, I knew the boss, so it wasn’t that big of a deal. And the fact that I was walking in the back door of Chains holding Elle’s hand like some throwback to a high school date I never got to have was pretty fucking sweet. The woman herself was sweet. She might put up a thorny, hard to get to know exterior, but beneath it was the creampuff center I’d suspected was there all along.

It became even clearer when Mathieu surveyed us.

“So it’s really like that, huh?”

I waited for Elle to respond, curious what she’d say. “Yep, it’s really like that,” was her answer. It wasn’t a declaration by any means, but it wasn’t a denial. I’d take what I could get at this point.

“Good. You’ll keep her out of trouble the next time she decides to do something crazy like go work at a fuckin’ pawnshop, and you’ll keep him smiling and laughing like he has been. Not a bad birthday present.”

“Birthday?”

Oh shit. I’d totally forgotten with all the crap going on. And because I was a guy and birthdays didn’t always stick with me.

“Yeah, nineteen. Never actually thought I’d live that long. It’s feeling pretty damn good though.”

Elle’s head swiveled toward me, and her elbow caught me in the side. “Lord, can we talk for a second?”

I let her drag me down the hall to the office and slam the door shut. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me it was his birthday!” She paced from the door to the end of the couch and turned on me. “So not cool!”

“I totally forgot—we’ve been juggling a lot of shit lately. Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to him.”

“But now we’re not prepared! And I love birthdays. I would’ve made a cake. Brought balloons. Presents. Something super cool. And now I have to scramble, and I’m not good at presents when I’m scrambling.”

Even though it might get me in trouble, I laughed. “Balloons, really? The kid is nineteen, not nine.”

“Everybody likes balloons.” Elle propped both hands on her hips.

I looked at my shoes, feeling even more like shit that I hadn’t remembered Mathieu’s birthday. The kid deserved better from me. Last year, I hadn’t even realized it was his birthday until just before closing and he’d said, “Hey, I’m legal now to get into the titty bar. Wanna go?” He’d gone back to what he was doing before I could form a response. I’d grabbed his personnel file and checked his ID. Damned if it hadn’t been his eighteenth birthday. We’d done it up right, but that wasn’t a story I’d be telling Elle. I could picture her response if I told her: “Well actually, the kid doesn’t like balloons so much as tits the size of them, and he’d prefer a lap dance to cake.” Now that we’d gotten our shit straight, I didn’t want to fuck it up with something like that. Besides, that probably wasn’t the best example to set for the kid anyway. Maybe dinner was better than mostly naked chicks. Mathieu was not going to agree. But at least Elle would be happy … and that was what I cared about most. Mathieu would eat his fancy dinner wherever we took him, and he would like it.

“Stop pacing, woman,” I said, but of course, she didn’t. She kept stalking her cute little ass back and forth, fretting about cake mix and frosting and some other random shit. “Elle, get your ass over here.”

Her head snapped up. “Seriously?”

“I don’t like seeing you upset over something fixable. We’ll make it right. Mathieu will get his birthday and some damn balloons if you want them, but I want you over here now where I can put my hands on you.”

Arms crossed over her chest, hesitation was written all over her beautiful face. Come on, bend a little. And then hesitation morphed into something else—heat.

“Thought I’d satisfied you in the shower?”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want more.”

“At work?”

I cut my eyes to the door. “Door’s closed.”

“While the birthday boy is out there holding down the fort?”

“Living dangerously today.”

“I think you probably live dangerously every day.”

Not lately, but I had.

“And after this I have the afternoon off to go get all the good birthday stuff and to make a reservation for dinner?”

“We’ll talk about that after.”

She stopped right in front of me. “After?”

“After,” I repeated. “When I’ll probably agree to anything, like I’d agree to anything right about now.”

“That’s a dangerous thing to tell a girl.”

“You’re the dangerous one here, sweet thing.”

A few more feet, and she was next to me.

Fuck, there was nothing I loved more than burying one hand in her hair and cupping her ass with the other. I lowered my lips to hers, and … Mathieu pounded on the door.

“Got a customer. Got some expensive shit he wants to sell that I don’t know much about.”