Hatch
“Would you blame her?” Booker asked with a smile.
“I’d only be pissed if she took the turkey with her,” I admitted. “I’ve been smelling that bird all day and I’m about to lose my fuckin’ mind.”
“I’ve doubled my workouts for the past week in preparation for the holidays,” Booker said.
“You’ve been in holiday training?”
“Damn straight,” he replied in a completely serious tone.
I racked my brain for a way to bust Booker’s balls but felt compelled to reply honestly. “Respect.”
I found Maisie in the kitchen and despite my fears, she was doing great. She was now wearing an apron over her dinner clothes and looked like a cross between the perfect nineteen-fifties’ housewife and pinup girl. My d**k hardened the moment I saw her and I began counting down the moments before I could take
