Page 109 of Mr. B

He wiped some paint from her cheek. “You got me a few times.”

“Only because you’re a cripple.”

He laughed. “I believe the politically correct term would be temporarily physically handicapped.”

“Have you released all of your pent-up frustrations?”

He sighed. “I’m afraid it’s going to take more than kicking your ass at paintball. But I feel slightly better.”

“Can we be done, then?”

“Yes. Let’s go meet my mother. I think she’s home now.”

“Now that I’m covered in paint.”

“You look beautiful.”

She squinted at him. “That’s not going to stop me from hating you right now.”

He put his arms around her. “How about this?” He leaned in and kissed her. “Or this?” He kissed her neck, then moved to her temple, before returning to her mouth.

“I’m starting to forgive you.”

“What’s it going to take?”

She wiped some paint from the sleeve of her coveralls, then smeared it on his face. “That helps.”

“Wow.”

She kissed him. “They should make this stuff edible.”

He laughed as he took a step back. “That would be a whole different game. And one I wouldn’t want to play at my parents’ place.”

Cassandra unzipped his coveralls. “Do you think maybe she’ll feed us some lunch?”

“I guarantee she’ll insist we eat lunch.”

“Good. I’m starving.”

“Yeah, getting your ass kicked will do that.”

Chapter twenty-seven

“Just you and me riding off into the sunset.”

Wes and Cassandra cleaned up in the hose and headed for the house. Cassandra tucked her arm through his. “You’re limping more.”

“I’m a little sore, but it was totally worth it.”

“Is your mom going to hate me?”

“Hate you? No.”

“But she knows who I am?”

“I told her we were working together. It’s fine.”

“I really don’t want her to hate me.”