“You have no idea how hot you are when you’re mad,” he snorted. “I wish I could have you to myself for half an hour.”
“You’d only need two minutes at most,” she sneered, attempting to squash his unbounded ego and Logan laughed and slapped her backside again.
“I wanted to say four hours, but I figured half an hour was modest.”
Hana wished she took more notice of Jas when he spent an entire Sunday afternoon trying to explain how to fart-on-demand. That would have wiped the smug look off her infuriating husband’s physog. Hana couldn’t see the smirk, but sensed it was there.
She saw the wooden stairs passing underneath her from her upside down view; the sides of the treads painted a glossy cream. An ornate banister rail passed quickly by and she heard the heels of Logan’s cowboy boots thru
