Seemingly oblivious to the gutter his thoughts were currently in, Chelle returned the phone to the inside pocket of her puffer coat and zipped it back up. “I know that was rude, I’m sorry. My uncle has the board all whipped up, and if I don’t jump high enough when they reach out, then he’ll use that as leverage and—” She stopped, pursed her lips together, and let out a huff of frustrated breath. “Not that any of that is important enough to air out. Again, I’m sorry.”

“If it bothers you, then it is important. You know, I deal with boards all the time. What you want to do is—”

“Not be mansplained,” she said, cutting him off. Grinning, she curled a finger at him, a nervous flush turning her cheeks pink. “Come on, Cucciolo, let’s go get our marriage license.”

There it was. She was calling him puppy again, this time in Italian. And what was he doing? Following her into the courthouse like it was the most natural thing to do to let someone else take care of things.

Nothing about this was going how he thought it would. As soon as they got the license, he’d get back in control of the situation.

How hard could that be? All of this was his idea. His plan. His solution. She needed his help.

And yet here he was following her.

The idea of not being the one controlling everything and maneuvering the people around him like pieces on a chessboard slowed his steps for a second, and she beat him to the courthouse door, pulling it open.

She held the door for him. “After you.”

“No,” he said, his feet rooted to the spot. “You first, I insist.”

“But I’m in charge, remember?” she asked, leaning in close, her soft breath tickling his ear and sending a shot of lust straight to his balls. “That’s part of the makeover. You have to do what I say.”

His dick thickened against his thigh, his pulse hit the gas, and a million dirty ideas ran through his head at the same time. Just how much he liked the idea of not being in charge hit him harder than a Mack truck going eighty on the interstate.

What the hell, Beckett? That is not how you roll. Who are you right now?

He had no answer to that, to any of it, really. He’d started all this, but for the first time in his life, he was already in over his head—and, fuck him, his cock liked the idea very, very much.

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Chelle

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chelle hiss-whispered to her best friend. “I’m not hiding.”