The Harty Boys, Book 1
A steamy cop, retired Navy SEAL romance.
It’ll take a tough woman to win this hard Hart.
“You owe me, you know,” she said with only a slight slur to her words.
He decided to play along. “I do, do I? I bought you a burger and covered your tab. I’d say we’re square for whatever it is you think I owe you.”
With a sultry little lip bite and a head shake that tousled those untameable curls of hers, she said, “Nuh-uh.”
“I let you off with a warning. And we both know you were speeding right up until you saw me. You tossed on the brakes at the perfect moment.”
Well, she had him there.
“So I owe you then?”
“I’m not sure you should be drinking anymore, and I’m not a fan of dessert. How do you propose I owe you … constable?”
Her pink tongue darted out between her lips and ran seductively along the seam. “Stumbling distance?”
A growl built at the back of his throat. He hadn’t gotten laid in ages, and this little sprite had him sporting a half-chub since earlier in the day. Did she have her handcuffs with her still? Maybe an officer’s hat?
Sliding off the barstool, he slung his leather jacket on and held out his hand. “We’ll be there in less than ten.”
She was all grins as she hopped off the barstool. Did she not have a coat? It was freaking cold outside. All she seemed to have was a worn and weathered gray hoodie. The woman needed a coat.
She followed him to the door, which he held open for her. The wind hit them both in the face like a wet slap, and she immediately shivered, pulling her hood up and shielding her face with her hand.
Brock grabbed her other hand again and pulled her along, only to stop when they were shielded from the wind. He pulled off his leather jacket and held it out for her with nothing but a grunt. She slipped her slender arms into it and then, without a word, he grabbed her hand again and pulled her into the night and the wicked autumn weather.