“I can hear you, asshole,” Cassie grumbled into the pillow.
“Oh, so you only sleep like the dead when I’m trying to fuck you?”
“Hey! I haven’t fallen asleep on your dick in a while.”
I smiled and touched my lips to her bare shoulder. “Let’s keep it that way.”
“Ugh. God. Where’s the coffee? Is there coffee?” she asked, her eyes still closed tight.
I picked up the mug from the nightstand and held it carefully under her nose. “There’s coffee.”
One eye peeked open to make sure. “Thank God,” she said as she grabbed the mug and pushed up to sitting.
She took three sips before bothering to speak again. “What time is it? I feel like ass.”
“Don’t worry about what time it is.”
Her eyes narrowed and jumped to the nightstand to look for what I’d been careful to move earlier. “Where’s the clock?”
“Hmm,” I said, playing innocent. “Look at that. Phil must have done something with it.”
“Don’t you dare blame Phil!” she shouted. “What godforsaken time is it? You tell me right now, Thatcher!”
“It’s not important. Just drink your coffee and wake up,” I tried to say soothingly. She wasn’t buying it.
Out of the bed, she jumped and ran, coffee in hand and Phil hot on her heels. He snorted and she cursed and I pushed up and off the bed to follow at a slow walk.
This had to be what men felt like when they were walking to their execution.
“Three a.m.?” she shrieked from the kitchen. I winced. “Three o’clock was made as a time for going to bed, not waking up,” she yelled just as I cleared the mouth of the hall into the living room.
“Occasionally, it’s a time to get up. Radio DJs do it. As do people with flights first thing in the morning.”
“Do I look like any of those people to you?” she asked, and my eyes bugged out with the effort it took not to laugh.
Her hair was a fucking rat’s nest of epic proportions, and her tits were hanging there perfectly out in the open like they did so often. Mascara smudged the creamy skin under her fierce blue eyes, and her nipples stood at full attention.
She was the best thing I’d ever seen in my life.
“I’m sorry about the early wake-up call,” I apologized. “But I’ve got a surprise.”
Her eyes softened a little. “I like surprises.”
“I know, honey.”
“All right. I’ll get dressed. But Phil and I are putting you on our blacklist. Right, Phil?”
Phil didn’t even look up from where he was rooting around at the bottom of the island.
“Fuck, Phil. Would it kill you to give me a little support?” Cassie asked.
“Phil’s more of a guy’s guy, honey. Bro code and all that. Don’t feel bad.”
“Well, he better get his act together and remember who brought him here.” Her voice dropped to the one women generally used with kids, but the words she used made it creepy. “Or else someone is gonna be on a sandwich, right little Phil boo-boo? Mommy won’t hesitate to make a little PLT.” She poured more coffee into her cup and headed my direction.
“Wear comfortable clothes,” I instructed as she passed me on her way back to the bedroom.
With a little more thought, I added specifics. “And a bra.”
She screeched to a stop, leaned into the wall, and turned to face me. “A bra? This better not be another fucking run, Thatcher.”
“No running,” I assured her. When she still looked skeptical, I broke out the big guns. “Pinkie promise.”
She took the two steps back and hooked her tiniest finger with mine. I smiled at the sight of them intertwined.
I swatted her ass when she didn’t move immediately. “Go on. Get a move on.”
She disappeared down the hall, but she did it walking backward and gesturing one-handed threats to me the entire way.
If you think she wants to kill me now, just wait.
“Where are we?” she asked as we pulled into the airfield. Luckily for me, it was hard to tell what it was in the pitch dark if you didn’t already have knowledge going in.
“You’ll find out.”
“You know, maybe I don’t like surprises,” she grumbled.
I chuckled. “Yes, you do. Just have a little patience. You’ll find out soon enough.”
You also wouldn’t be this eager if you knew what it is.
“I wish Phil could have come with us,” she pouted, and I barked out a laugh.
“You were just threatening to make him bacon, and now you wish he was here?”
“It’s called tough love. All the good parents use it every once in a while.”
God, she was cute. Ridiculous. But cute.
The gravel of the empty parking lot crunched under our tires as we came to a stop and I put the car in park. “We’re here.”
She rolled her eyes. “I can tell we’re here. But where is here?”
I asked her for the one and only thing I needed from her. “You trust me?”
She leaned her head back into the seat and covered her face with her hands. A groan filled the otherwise silent air. “Ah, shit. You only ask me that before you make me do things I don’t like.”