Page 65 of Take My Love

She continues wiggling as I carry her in my arms, so I shift her body until I can haul her over my shoulder.

“Put me down, you caveman!”

“Nope, you didn’t listen,” I remind her, giving her ass a quick tap. “You asked for it.”

“I’m so gonna get you back for this!” She smacks my back a few times before a throat clearing grabs our attention.

“Am I interruptin’?”

I was so lost in our stupid little game that I hadn’t heard anyone approach. Quickly, I spin around to see whose voice it is.

And he doesn’t look amused.

I set Posey on her feet and stand a few inches behind her. I’mlike a deer in headlights, unable to move or speak, which makes me look suspicious as hell. Although we weren’t doing anything inappropriate, I’m sure to him it didn’t seem like harmless fun between roommates.

“Hi, Daddy.”

chapter eleven

Posey

“What’re you kids doin’?”Dad asks, his gaze shifting from me hanging upside down to Silas’s face.

He sets me on my feet, and I fix my shirt that rode up. “I took him ridin’ and was tryin’ to convince him to let me drive his truck back home.”

“It’s a manual,” Silas explains. “And not in the best condition as it is, and since she wouldn’t get out of the driver’s seat, I had to carry her out.”

“I can drive a manual!” I argue. “Even your crappy Toyota.”

“Ouch.” Silas smacks a palm to his chest. “Now you definitely aren’t drivin’ Brittany.”

I roll my eyes. “Of course you named it.”

Dad chuckles, shrugging. “Most guys do.”

“You even gave it a basic bitch girl name to go with your pumpkin spice creamer.” I shake my head. “And that’s why you aren’t a cowboy.”

Silas yanks my hat off my head and places it on his. “I beg to differ. I rode your death horse and lived to tell the tale.”

“Death horse?” Dad’s eyes narrow. “Which one was that?”

“Priest. Nearly killed me when he wouldn’t stop runnin’,” Silas explains.

“He’s being dramatic…” I jump up on my tiptoes to steal my hat back although he looked good in it. “There’s not a scratch on ya, so quit being a baby.”

Dad’s gaze pingpongs between Silas and me.

“I rode up next to Priest and slowed him down before Silas could get thrown. He’s fine,” I reassure.

“Traumatized,” Silas corrects, jumping into the driver’s seat before I can again.

Dad snorts, then walks with me to the passenger side after Silas gets in the driver’s seat.

“Y’all are gettin’ along well, I see.”

His questioning tone and raised brows are met with suspicion.

“We’re just friends, Dad.”