Page 4 of Beg Me

I laugh, waving over his head at the mayor’s wife. Plenty of men have thought that. Join the club. “There are plenty of single women in Sugar Creek. I’m sure the answer to your prayers is out there.”

“I’m sure. Except I never get two minutes to myself to find her. You’re basically my only hope.”

“Oh, so you weren’t picking me based on compatibility, just availability.”

He narrows his eyes. “It was a mixture. I’m working with what I have.”

“Well, I’m sorry for ruining your dreams, Gus.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” His shoulders slump. “I better get going. I’ve spent four minutes away from Dad, and I’m sure he’s looking for me. God forbid I have some space.” He shakes his head. “It was nice to meet you. I hope your decision keeps you up at night.”

“Hey!” I laugh. “That’s not nice.”

Before he can respond, a set of large hands grip his shoulders.

My gaze trails up the muscled forearms, over the developed biceps and sharp jaw, and into another set of sparkling green eyes.

They’re the kind of eyes that I love—playful. Slightly wicked. Eyes that promise a good, slightly debaucherous time.

“Where have you been?” the man asks, his gaze never leaving mine.

“Shopping,” Gus answers, a cocky edge to his tone.

The man surveys the jam behind me. “Find anything worth bringing home?”

Gus’s grin deepens. “We’ll see.”

Oh, this little shit.

CHAPTER

TWO

Markie

“Dad, meet my new friend, Markie,” Gus says, winking at me like we’re as thick as thieves. I lift a brow, which only seems to amuse him even more. “Markie, this is my dad, Jory Plath.”

Why does that name ring a bell? It tugs at something in the back of my mind, and if Jory and Gus weren’t so entertaining—and Jory so damn attractive—I might be able to figure out why.

Jory slides his hands off Gus’s shoulders, his lips twisting into a smirk reminiscent of his son’s. “Seems that my son inherited more than my green eyes.”

“I sense a really cheesy line on its way …” I say, trying not to smile.

Jory’s laugh is warm and easy. “I was about to say that he has a knack for finding the prettiest woman in a room, but I guess I’ll keep that to myself. I’d hate to be cheesy.”

“Come on, Dad.” Gus sighs. “You can do better than this. Don’t embarrass me.”

I bite my lip, but a giggle escapes anyway.

Gus steps to the side so he can see both of us at once. “I’ve spent the past four minutes buttering her up. I crafted a perfect opening for you, and you come in with that? It’s no wonder you’re single.”

“I think you both have some work to do,” I say to Gus.

He flinches, as if suggesting he isn’t a brilliant matchmaker is ludicrous.

“Your dad’s line might’ve fallen flat on its face⁠—”

“Hey!” Jory protests.