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Excerpt: Bad Taste in Men

Excerpt: Bad Taste in Men

Book 3: Clover Park Series

Shane pulled into the small parking lot behind her store. Her apartment was on the second floor. He fetched her crutches from the back seat and walked around to open her car door. She tucked the crutches under her arms and made her way awkwardly to the rear entrance.

“Thanks again,” she told him. “I got it from here.”

He exhaled sharply. “Gimme the keys. I'm not leaving you.”

She pulled her keys from her purse. “I'm fine. You've done your part. Thank you. Good night.”

He snatched the keys from her, unlocked the door, and slipped a crutch out from under her arm, replacing it with his body. His voice rumbled low in her ear. “Relax.”

She suppressed a shiver. That would've happened with anyone speaking so close to her. Sound waves and physics and neurological stuff. She glanced at him, so close. His eyes were blue with flecks of gold. She'd never noticed the gold flecks before. Her eyes widened as he leaned the other crutch against the building and scooped her up in his arms.

“Careful of my ankle!” she screeched.

He grunted, pushed open the door, and carried her upstairs to her apartment. If her pulse was racing, it was only because of the risk of falling down an entire flight of stairs. He carried her in and set her down gently on the bed.

“Really, Shane, there are easier ways to get me into bed.”

His voice went low and husky. “When I want to get you into bed, you'll know it.”

Her face flushed. She opened her mouth for a snappy retort, but nothing came out. Was he coming on to her or insulting her?

He chuckled. “I'll bring your crutches.”

He left, and she propped up the pillows behind her so she could sit up in bed. He returned and placed the crutches next to her bed.

“I'll take the sofa,” Shane said, “so I can carry you downstairs again in the morning.”

“That's ridiculous. I've got crutches. I can do it.”

“If you don't want me to stay, then call me when you wake up and I'll come over. I'm not letting you tumble down those stairs.”

“You're not sleeping on my sofa.”

“Then call me.”

“Sure,” she said just to get rid of him.

His eyes narrowed. “I'll be on the sofa.”

“No!” She thought fast. How to get him out of her hair? “Sleep in my bed instead,” she offered, lifting the covers.

His eyes lit up. “I thought you'd never ask.”

And to her absolute shock, he scooted in next to her.

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