Sloane tossed her head back in laughter. Her hair was down and wild, a storm cloud. Electric. There was something different about her now. Or, maybe, it was just him. How he saw her. How he wanted her.

Either way, Brady couldn’t stop his body reacting at the sight of a carefree Sloane De Carlo.

He liked it. And he wanted more.

“You know, when we played two truths and a lie, I never found out which lie you told.” He threw off the covers and left the bed and everything covering him behind. It was hard not to laugh when Sloane dropped one of the socks she was holding. He stopped a breath away from her and leaned in. “You said you were going to jump into the water, and you did. So, that’s one truth. You said you worked a wedding where you caught the groom cheating with the bride’s sister. And then you said you and Emma have matching, and very well hidden, Beetlejuice tattoos.” Brady ran his thumb across her bare arm. “Now, I can’t recall seeing the tattoo, so either it’s really well hidden or that was a lie.”

Sloane’s face might have been burning bright, but her voice was nothing but smooth.

“How about instead of me telling you, you try and look for it again? I certainly won’t stand in the way of your pursuit of knowledge.”

…

“I knew this wasn’t going to work out. I just knew it.”

Sloane had her hands on her hips and not an ounce of teasing in her voice.

Instead there was a flatness to her words. A finality. A warning that everyone in the vicinity better watch what they said next lest they be smited by the wrath of a southern woman.

Brady wanted to make a joke to lighten the mood, but he wasn’t that brave. There was a lot to be said about southern women, but one thing he knew not to say? Some kind of smart-ass joke about parade floats when social statuses were on the line.

Okay, maybe that was a little too specific to be a recurring concern, but Brady wasn’t taking any chances by incurring a Sloane-size wrath.

Not when he’d already had a taste of her pleasure.

He motioned in front of them, empty bucket in one hand and a scrub brush in the other.

“It’s nothing we can’t fix,” he tried to assure her instead. “Just a little love and elbow grease.”

He should have chosen his words a little more carefully. Sloane whirled around to face him, rain jacket making a swish noise at the movement. Her eyes and hair were wild.

It was oddly adorable, considering the reason behind her wild distress.