Crazy Heifer (The Valentine Boys 2)

“How’s that burger?” I questioned, salivating at the smell of the French fries.

“Great,” he answered. “Why didn’t you get one?”

I sighed.

“Mal was very convincing when I saw him at the pharmacy,” I admitted. “He only helped hammer the point home that I really want to be able to do this Spartan race in a couple of months. I want to rock it. I want to finish it before he does, even. And I’m going to get healthy. I’m going to eat right. And I’m not going to cheat.”

He made a grunting sound around a mouthful of burger.

“I fucking hate Mal,” he said. “And I hate that you think you have to prove something. But, saying that, I know you’re going to rock that race. When I run it with you, you’re going to be blowing through those obstacles. I just know it.”

Pleasure at his words started to course through me.

“I like the faith you have in me,” I admitted. “It feels good and is weird all at the same time. I can’t even come up with a time where Mal said one thing that even remotely resembled a compliment in the last year.”

He set his burger down.

“The fact that you say that makes me want to punch him in the face.” He paused. “Though it really doesn’t take much. And unless you really want me to consider kicking his ass, I’d suggest changing the subject.”

“Your brother was at the pharmacy,” I told him, realizing that he was right. We’d spent entirely way too much time talking about the jackass that used to hold the title of my husband. “He looked kind of scary.”

“Scary seems to work for him,” Callum admitted. “We all have tempers, though. He’s just the worst at hiding it.”

“You have a temper?” I asked curiously.

His lips tipped up at the corner as he shoved a couple of fries into his mouth.

My stomach grumbled, and he grinned around the fries.

“I hate you,” I lied.

He winked at me and finished chewing.

“I have a temper,” he confirmed. “It just takes a lot to get it going. Ace likes to say that I’m a gentle giant until you screw me over one too many times. Then I turn into a raving lunatic. His words, not mine.”

I snickered.

“If Mal can’t set you off, I really don’t see you as getting pissed enough for that to happen. Mal is a pro at finding that one button to push… shit. I’m sorry. I just can’t help myself.”

Callum’s mouth quirked. “He’s easy to complain about.”

That he was.

But I vowed then and there not to bring him up again that night.

“What were you watching when I came in?” I asked, picking my ranch up and dumping it on my salad.

I wish I could have more, because what I got wasn’t nearly enough, but unfortunately ranch was the most fattening part of my dinner. So reduced fat, and one package only, it was.

“A show about serial killers,” he answered. “You want to watch it?”

I shrugged. “Sounds good.”Chapter 9I clean and jerk, and have a nice snatch.

-Things not to say to a woman

Callum

She liked watching shows about serial killers. Duly noted.

“How do none of his friends and family notice that he’s so weird?” she asked curiously, chewing absently on a straw.

I repositioned my ankle on the pillow and moved slightly so that she was more comfortably tucked into my side.

She’d started out beside me, but not touching. And as the night had gone on, we’d gotten closer and closer until we ended up how we were now.

I was leaning into the arm of the couch, and she was leaning into me. My arm was around her shoulder, and her head was resting on my pectoral.

Normally, I didn’t like to be touched. I was a hot-natured person, and it was inevitable. Cuddling led to sweating, and according to my last girlfriend, it was gross.

But today, it was cool in the house and the ice pack on my ankle was keeping me in a perpetual state of cold. Having a very hot, very cuddly Desi cuddled up next to me was just the amount of heat I needed to stay comfortable.

“I imagine that he’s always been weird,” I admitted. “And that was just how he was to them. Weird. To any other person, I’m sure he came off as freakin’ fucked up.”

She shivered. “It’s hard to imagine that people like that walk around in our society. Interact with us, and we don’t even know it.”

“There was a serial killer in Houston when Banks and I were a couple of weeks from graduating,” I told her. “It was super freaky because all the women that he targeted looked just like Georgia. I was super freaked out the week she came down to watch us graduate. Banks and I made sure that she never went anywhere alone.”