Read Online Size Matters (Handcuffs and Happily Ever Afters) by Robyn Peterman - Free Book Online Page B

behind, but I didn’t want him to think I regarded him as a piece of meat. That would be sexist, not to mention rude. Although if he were a piece of meat, I suppose he’d be a filet mignon . . . maybe. I hadn’t seen the face yet, but a butt that great had to have a good face. Right? Wait, what was wrong with me? He was not a piece of meat. He was probably a very nice guy who was going to think I was a crazy dingbat with loose morals and a man-butt obsession. Balls.
    My gut clenched and I wondered if I could make it to the stairs without the new hot neighbor guy seeing me. The odds were slim, but I had to try. I shut my mailbox and ran.
    “Goldilocks?”
    I jerked to a halt on the third stair. No, no, no, no . . . Could this day get any worse?
    “Mitch?” I choked out.
    “How are you?” he asked, grinning at me.
    I grabbed the stair railing because my knees were about to give out. Damn it, what the hell was it about this guy that turned me into a noodle?
    “I’m good. What are you doing here?”
    “I live here,” he said, pointing to Jack’s apartment.
    “You can’t,” I gasped, willing my spaghetti legs to work.
    “Why not?” His silky voice held a challenge. He stepped closer, and because my lower body was useless, all I could do was sit down to get a little farther away.
    “I live here,” I stammered. “And since I’m avoiding you until I die, you can’t live here. It would make my life difficult and I’d be tempted to break my vows.”
    “Are you going into a nunnery?” he asked as he sat down next to me and made my brain short-circuit.
    “Of course not,” I giggled. “I’m Lutheran.” I tried to move away, but instead, conked my head on the railing. “Shit,” I muttered.
    “Come here.” Mitch leaned in and felt around in my hair for a lump. For such a big strong guy, his hands were incredibly gentle. I wondered how they’d feel on my . . . Stop. Don’t go there.
    “I’m okay,” I whispered, aching to kiss him. I stood up shakily and put a little distance between us. “I have to go.”
    “Wait—” Mitch grabbed my hand. “Why won’t you go out with me? It feels like you’re liking me and God knows, I’m liking you.”
    “Mitch, you seem like you’re very, um . . . nice, but I don’t date cops.” I tried to pull my hand away, but his grip tightened.
    “Well, you’re in luck. I’m not a cop. I’m a DEA agent, so that argument won’t stand.” He grinned lazily and my heart skipped two beats.
    “That’s the same thing,” I told him, trying not to smile.
    “Nope, it’s not. You’ll have to come up with a better excuse for not going out with me than that.”
    “Okay, fine.” I pulled my hand from his and crossed my arms over my chest so I wouldn’t bury them in his hair. “I can’t go out with you because if I do, I’ll have to eat lots of dinners with hostile lesbians and I’ll lose Brett Favre forever.” If that didn’t scare him away, then I didn’t know what would.
    He laughed and I almost jumped him in a very sexual way. “I’m a little confused,” he said. “Let’s break this one down . . . I’m very sure Brett Favre is married. Am I wrong about that?”
    “It’s not real Brett Favre. It’s Cardboard Brett Favre,” I explained rationally, halfway hoping my crazy would make him give up and move to Alaska. Of course the other half of me wanted him to grab me by the hair and shove his tongue in my mouth.
    “You mean like the one in Rena’s office?” he asked.
    “Yes,” I answered slowly. I was beginning to wonder what he already knew. Was he in on this? Had Rena convinced him to hit on me so I would lose the bet?
    “And the hostile lesbians?” he asked, pulling on one of my curls.
    “I’m sure you know exactly what I’m talking about,” I said with a sarcastic edge to my voice. I was sooo not falling for this. He was as bad as all the rest of the loser cops I’d dated . . . maybe worse.
    He stared at me for a long moment and I