Page 32 of The Billionaire Who Saved My Cat From The Mafia

I’m in a shitload of trouble.

A boatload, if that’s bigger than a shitload.I don’t even know what I’m thinking.It’s the fog.My brain’s is a jumble of disconnected thoughts.But one thought is so rowdy and deafening that’s is drowning out the others:What the fuck did I just do?

“More cornbread, Special K?”

“Huh?”I look up to see Summer balancing a large platter of Aunt Phyllis’s famous cornbread about two inches away from my forehead.“Oh.No, thanks.”I take the platter and pass it to Declan on my left, careful not to make prolonged eye contact with either of them.I don’t want to risk it.

I kissed the Squatter of Washoe Ridge.She kissed me back—holy shit did she ever kiss me back.And it was the hottest fucking kiss I’ve ever experienced in my life.I kissed Boots.She kissed me back…

The thoughts roll through my brain in a loop, like a Buddhist mantra, but instead of having a calming effect and guiding me closer to enlightenment, it’s making me sweat like a pig.Plus, I’m tempted to stand on the tabletop and scream out across the ranch:I kissed the squatter, and she kissed me back!

I don’t, of course.I don't scream, as a rule, and Finn wouldn’t appreciate having to answer Jasmine’s questions about why I’m kissing our resident trespasser.So, I keep it to myself, like I always do.I shovel bites of pork chop and potato salad in my mouth and pretend everything’s fine.That nothing’s changed.

I know better.Nothing’s fine.Everything’s changed.

I just kissed Boots, and she felt perfect in my hands and under my lips.It’s like I’ve been walking around with a Boots-shaped hole in my world for years.It’s so unlike me.I never do shit like this.

What’s wrong with me?

“What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m hungry and I just want to eat in peace,” I answer Summer.

“That’s a crock,” she says, leaning in closer.“You look weird.”

“How kind of you to say.”

Summer’s been my friend for nearly a dozen years, and now she’s my sister.But she’s always been a burr under my skin and one of those people who has no concept of personal space.She’s been up my ass since the day she arrived at the ranch when I was still in high school.Asking too many questions.Never dropping the subject.

Right now, I feel her eyes on me like lasers.I shovel in the food, planning to eat as fast as humanly possible so that I can excuse myself and get back to work.

I kissed Boots, and I plan to kiss her again.The sooner the better.

Fawn?Hell, no.She laid some bullshit on me by giving me that name.One look at her and anyone would know she’s got to have a name full of sass and sex, like Zoe or Roxy or Bijou.

But named after a small woodland creature?Just no.

I’m in a shitload of trouble.

A boatload.

I fill my plate again and ignore the continued scrutiny from Summer and Declan.

There’s no such thing as privacy around here, and when it comes to my private life, that’s never bothered me.When I think about it, it’s a miracle that no one knows what happened with me and the Army Ranger, how I got drummed out of the Navy, and the extent of Cal’s sacrifice for me—for all of us.It’s a lot to keep quiet.

Keeping my mouth shut is one of my best qualities.Cal’s a damn ninja at it.Navy brass, too.And the senator was—and still is—the king of quiet.

He’s got good reason to be.

But my mind is a chatty sonofabitch at the moment.Just won’t shut up.Won’t stop doing the play-by-play about the warm welcome Boots gave me.The way she opened up to let my tongue explore her.And now I need to explore every inch of her with my tongue.

I suddenly realize that other than my brain and my chewing, it’s gotten way too quiet.I glance up from my plate, a forkful of Aunt Phyllis’s potato salad midway between my plate and my mouth.

Every single eyeball is staring at me.That’s a lot of eyeballs.

“What?”I shove the potato salad into my mouth.

Dad’s looking at me with curiosity.“Whatever happened with that woman up on the ridge, son?”