What kind of head-crackin’ mamma jamma was I?
“Law,” Vance said beside me.
I turned to him. “Crowe,” I returned the greeting.
I held my body stiff, my emotional Rottweiler had woken up and was on guard. Vance watched me closely and I got the impression he saw my Rottweiler and decided he was a cuddly puppy. I got this impression because his sexual tractor beam switched on, his eyes got soft and his arm curled around my waist, pulling me around and into his body.
“Crowe,” I said low and quiet, a warning in my voice.
He ignored my warning and his face dipped close to mine. “Shut up,” he said but he said it through one of his grins.
“Don’t tell me to shut up,” I flashed.
He just kept grinning.
Whatever.
“Are we going to do this or what?” I asked.
Instantly, his eyes went serious but he didn’t let me go.
“We get there, you let Darius talk first. You let him have his say and you listen. Then you let Lee guide the conversation and you take cues from Lee. Yeah?”
“I’m not stupid,” I told him.
“I know you aren’t,” he surprised me by saying.
I blinked at him. “Really?” I blurted, then I wished I hadn’t because his eyes got soft again and I was having trouble channeling my head-crackin’ mamma jamma with his soft eyes on me.
“Really,” he said quietly.
“I thought you thought I was a little crazy.”
“Crazy. Yeah. Stupid. No.”
Hmm.
That was mostly good.
What was I thinking? I didn’t care if Vance thought I was crazy or stupid.
Before I could purposefully kill the mood, Luke did it for me.
“Fuck. You guys havin’ a sit down with Darius or an orgy in reception?”
I went up on my toes and looked over Vance’s shoulder. Luke was standing in the doorway, arms crossed on his chest. He looked like he didn’t know whether to grin or vomit. A glance at Dawn showed she definitely wished she could vomit and her eyes were on Vance and me.
I smiled brightly at her just because. I felt Vance’s body move with laughter even though he didn’t make a sound.
I turned my head and frowned at him. “What?” I snapped.
His mouth came to ear. “Wouldn’t know, don’t want to know, but I bet she doesn’t taste like cherries.”
That got a belly flutter.
I sicced the Rottweiler on my belly flutter and glared at Vance when his head came away from my neck. “Stop talking to me. I’m trying to channel my head-crackin’ mamma jamma.”
At my words, a hint of surprise passed his face then he got that “you’re adorable” look again and even though I knew he heard me, he asked, “Your what?”