It'll Be An Adventure (Masters of the Shadowlands #15)(46)
Author: Cherise Sinclair

 

Damned if he could get the woman out of his mind. He couldn’t stop fuming about how she’d taken on the guilt for her brothers being assholes.

 

Sipping his drink, he wrinkled his nose at the bitter taste then added a teaspoonful of sugar to compensate. Jean-Baptiste must have made this pot. The Cajun loved his chicory.

 

Everyone had quirks. Differences.

 

Murphy’s brothers might not be that bad with people other than their sister. Sometimes families got bogged down, unable to break free of old patterns. Sometimes they didn’t comprehend their actions were toxic until the person at the bottom of the pecking order stood up for themselves.

 

Murphy had made a start.

 

Damned if he didn’t want to be there to reinforce her new behavior. He started to reach for the phone. Maybe she’d like to go out for dinner or—

 

He scowled and pulled his hand back. Don’t be a dumbass.

 

Serious relationships—and even not-so-serious relationships—didn’t work for him. Not after they discovered who his father was. He winced at the memory of his first serious girlfriend. He’d been a college sophomore, and she was fun and interesting and totally invested in him. Or so he thought.

 

“Oh, Saxon, I can’t stand being away from you for a whole Christmas break. Why don’t you take me home with you. Your father wouldn’t mind, would he?”

 

“Sure, we can spend the break together; that’d be great. Jake and I are going skiing in Colorado.”

 

“With your father?”

 

Saxon remembered how he’d snorted in disgust. “Hardly. I never see him—like ever. He pays the bills, and that’s it.”

 

She broke up with him an hour later.

 

He shook his head. No, he wouldn’t get involved with anyone, even the adorable Murphy.

 

He fucking knew better.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWELVE

 

 

 

 

 

Ah, September. One of her favorite times of the year. Murphy tipped her head back and smiled at a blue sky with only a few fat, white clouds drifting across. A lovely late afternoon 75 degrees.

 

Her cargo pants and T-shirt wouldn’t be too uncomfortable. Even if they were, she was grateful to be wearing clothes. As opposed to her dream last night when she’d shown up naked. Oh, the humiliation, greeting Dustin and the rest of the team in her birthday suit.

 

Even worse, Master Saxon had been there with dark amusement in his eyes as he looked at her overgrown bush. Because she hadn’t trimmed her pubes.

 

Boy, talk about a nightmarish dream.

 

Thank god, he wouldn’t be here today.

 

“Hey, Murphy, over here.” Dustin’s scalp had a white sunscreen glaze, and he wore a bright blue T-shirt and shorts. No official SAR T-shirts today. “Let’s have you with Saxon and Sherlock again. You kept up with them well during the last search.”

 

She stared at him in shock. After the emotional turmoil of last weekend, she’d counted on staying away from the Dom. “I thought Saxon already attended practice.”

 

Someone had told her he only went to a couple of sessions a month, and he’d already gotten them in. So she’d thought coming to this midweek practice would be safe.

 

“Sherlock and I are very dedicated.” The distinctive baritone was one she’d recognize anywhere.

 

Master Saxon.

 

She spun to face him. The slight quirk of his lips told her he’d caught her dismay and reached the correct conclusion—she’d wanted to avoid him.

 

Thoroughly embarrassed, she smiled at the dog, then went down on her knees to hug him. “Hey, Sherlock. How’s it going?”

 

His happy furry face and enthusiastic licks made everything better.

 

“Saxon, there you are.” A dark-haired, slender woman walked over, holding a toddler on one hip. Dimples softened the strength in her face.

 

Still on her knees, Murphy gazed up. The woman had an aura of authority that was much like Saxon’s.

 

It wasn’t anything Murphy had ever particularly wanted—but she could enjoy seeing it in others.

 

“Anne.” Saxon took the child from her, lifting him up high. “Wyatt, my boy. You’re gonna be big as your daddy.”

 

Toddler laughter was the cutest, most infectious sound in the world.

 

Murphy looked up, feeling as if the day had brightened.

 

“I see football in his future.” Anne set her hand on her stomach. “I’m hoping this one is smaller.”

 

“Seriously? Damn, congratulations!” Saxon bent forward to kiss her cheek. “I volunteer for babysitting.”

 

She snorted. “As if you have the time.”

 

“Speaking of which, thanks for volunteering as a ‘victim’.” When Wyatt set up “goggy, goggy” demands, Saxon set him down beside Murphy.

 

Startled, Murphy put an arm around the little guy and another in front of the delighted dog. “Gently, Sherlock.”

 

Both ignored her, coming together in an explosion of yips and giggles. As Wyatt dropped down on a diaper-padded bottom, Sherlock licked his face, tail wagging frantically.

 

Murphy looked up to see Saxon grinning, no worry at all in his expression. “They know each other?”

 

“They do,” the woman answered. “I’m Anne Desmarais, who this ill-mannered clod didn’t bother to introduce.”

 

“Murphy Chaykovsky. It’s nice to meet you.” She grinned as Wyatt scooted back between her legs so he could lean against her stomach. When he tipped his head back to grin at her, her heart just melted.

 

Really, he was so cute, her ovaries revved up to pop out some eggs of her own.

 

Down, hormones, down.

 

“Murphy’s our flanker today,” Saxon was saying.

 

“Another new flanker? What did you do to your last one?”

 

Murphy smothered a grin because Anne sounded as if Saxon had butchered the previous assistant and left the corpse in the weeds.

 

“Which one? We’ve had so many.” Saxon frowned. “Either they can’t keep up with Sherlock’s speed or are unable to focus or… Anyway, Murphy does great.”