Page 13 of Friends to WHAT?!

“Shutup,” I murmur to my stupid, idiotic,hopelessheart, who shudders at the thought of a man’s hands on us if that man is not Wolfe. Me personally, I shudder at the thought ofanyman’s hands on us, but the heart is a fickle, emotional,ridiculousthing.

I sigh.

A fickle, emotional, ridiculous,preciousthing, who I am to treat with care and kindness, even as she begs for me to run us directly into danger.

I groan.

“Wolfe, throw me over your shoulder,” I demand, cutting straight through a Sterne lecture on what he believes to be Proper Abduction Procedure and the ways in which Wolfe needs to “take initiative!”

Wolfe’s attention jerks toward me. His thick, dark lashes frame startled eyes. Quicker than I would have anticipated, his shock gives way to self-satisfaction. I watch in fascination as pleasure at me choosing him turns into realization that I have chosenhim.

His hands tremble.

I curse the stars and step back. “Nevermind,” I decide. “You look like you’ll drop me.” Oof. “No offense. It’s not that I think you’re weak, it’s just that…” I gesture to his hands. “You don’t seem all that steady? And you’rereallytall. Those things together sound like me falling from great heights to my inevitable demise.” I glance at cool, calm, collected Sterne and frown. “Not that I relish the idea of being hauled around, but one of you is shaking like a leaf at the prospect of lifting me, and theother is sturdy as a tree.” I wince apologetically. “When given the choice, I must go with the tree.”

Wolfe’s hands clench and unclench as my words settle over him. His brow lowers, and his jaw tenses.

It takes a two count of held breath for me to realize I haven’t angered Wolfe, as I thought. I’ve done something much, much worse. I’veemblazonedhim.

Determination thick in the line of his broad shoulders, he dips, and I experience a much different sort of manhandling than I ever have before—a muchgentlersort. Despite the fact that he is essentially tossing me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, I land without so much as a huff of air escaping me. His shoulder blade digs into my bosom, of course, but it’s not horrendous, all things considered. A slight adjustment and the fleeting pain is just that—fleeting.

“I will not let you fall,” he declares.

Stars. Stars, stars,stars.

“Yes!” Almond squeals as Wolfe adjusts his hold on me, holding tightly to my thighs across his chest. “Wait, let me get a photo. Leora’s first kidnapping. She might be a little iffy about it now, but she’s going to want pictures later.”

“Shemost definitely does not want pictures of her bottom in your brother’s face,” I groan, digging my elbows into Wolfe’s back so that I can create a cradle with my hands to rest my face in.

“Later,” she stresses. “I said you’ll want itlater.”

“I seriously doubt it,” I grouse. “It’s still my derriere in a man’s face in the middle of my previously professional business. As it is, for the first time in my life, I’m grateful that the day has been dead slow, so there aren’t any witnesses to this debacle.”

“So wonderful!” Almond agrees. “Just us and Rory from the grocery store peeping through the windows. Nothing to worry about.”

“Rory?” I ask. “Sweet little old man Rory? Wouldn’t step on an ant Rory? Treated his wife like she trailed gold when she walked Rory? That Rory is at the window watching me with my butt in Wolfe’s face?”

“Can we stop talking about the proximity between my face and your bottom?” Wolfe asks, voice strained. “Please.”

I drop my hands to clutch his shirt. “Donotdrop me,” I implore. “If you drop me, I will die.”

“You won’t die.” Sterne rolls his eyes. “You couldmaybeget a concussion from a six foot drop.”

“That’s wonderful information,” I retort. “Except that Wolfe is six-foot-one, so it has nothing to do with me.”

“No one’s dropping anyone,” Almond assures. “Wolfe, turn around so I can get a picture of Leora’s face. Good, yes, like that. Smile, Leora! Now make an annoyed face. Oooh, perfect!Justlike that!”

“No more pictures,” Sterne commands Almond. “And no more stalling,” he bosses Wolfe. “And no more complaining, either,” he orders me.

“I’m worrying about my impending demise,” I correct him. “Not complaining.”

“And I’m worrying about missing the firehouse safety meeting,” he retorts. “But you don’t see me harping about it.”

“Sterne,” Wolfe cuts, swinging us around so that I no longer face his co-conspirators.

“Fine,” the other man responds. “I’ll be nice to your littlestarling.”

Wolfe’s fingers flex on my thigh at that, and my heart leaps into my throat.