Page 254 of Five Brothers
I throw it across the room, but it just clips his shoulder.
He rears back, stumbling, but then rights himself and looks in my direction. “Ow.” He rubs the spot it hit. “What the hell?”
“You’re two days late!” I bellow.
His face falls, and he holds out his hands like he’s trying to wrangle a horse. “I’m sorry, okay? I …”
But I grab the coffee-table book of Mammoth Cave that I gotin Kentucky, because we just closed our eyes and picked a place on a map for our honeymoon.
I throw it as Army, Trace, and Dallas back up, out of the way. I grab the remote, a magazine, and a potted plant, and hurl every single one at my husband. He ducks out of the way as Trace chuckles at the scene.
“I told you it would be unpredictable,” Macon argues.
“And I told you to get a satellite phone!”
I hurl a candle, throw Dex’s soccer ball, and pick up the crystal bowl Clay got us for our wedding, but stop and put it back down. It’s pretty.
“Worrying my ass off, wondering if you were shot or strangled or kidnapped or sinking to the bottom of the ocean,” I yell. “And I can’t call the cops!”
He moves in. “Come here.”
“I’m not a fan of you right now!”
“Steel stomach, remember?”
Ugh! I stomp on his foot, and he grunts, clenching his teeth. Grabbing me, he swings me over his shoulder.
I flail, kicking. “Let me go!”
“Go to the bar for a while,” he tells his brothers. “I need to deal with this one.”
And I feel a slap on my ass. I flinch and then growl.
“Might get loud …” Dallas taunts.
“Don’t you spank me in front of them!” I shout.
“Don’t worry, Krisjen.” Trace chuckles, and I hear the door open. “We know you’re the boss of him.”
Laughter fills the air as they drift out of the house, and Macon spins around, carrying me up the stairs.
Tears spring to my eyes. I was so worried. Every second. At any moment, he could’ve been gone forever, and I might never know what happened to him.
“Let me go.” I slap his ass as I dangle there. “You deserve thesilent treatment for the next two days after that stunt. Because that’s how long it’s been since I’ve slept!”
We reach the top, and he carries me into our bedroom, closing the door.
“Let me down!” I yell.
His hand grips the back of my thigh, his fingers crawling inward as he kisses against my jeans.
“I thought you were giving me the silent treatment,” he teases. I clamp my mouth shut, pouting and trying to keep from crying out of relief as I hang there.
“We got the containers,” he whispers.
Fine.
“Then they pushed us overboard and tried to sink our boat,” he says.