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"Get your mangy mutt off me.” She covered her mouth with her hand to
keep Daisy’s urgent kisses away.
Hell, he couldn’t help but laugh, of course the spicy Southern prima donna
disliked dogs. And who the hell wore white dress slacks, a white blousy
tank top, and high heels to Lake Tahoe? It was like wearing a wedding dress to
a campground. He doubted the little princess was one with nature.
“Daisy.” He used a stern voice, which got her attention. Not the bitchy one
on her back, but the non-human bitchy one who couldn’t stop wagging her tail.
His pup moved obediently to his side, and Maverick reached for Elle’s hand
to help her up.
“Why are you smiling?” she hissed. He pulled her to her feet, and she
tore her hand away as if the mere contact burned her.
She dramatically brushed dirt from her pants.
“You all right, Peaches?”
“I’m fine, and you best call me by my name, seeing as I’m here for
professional reasons.” She stood straight, face flushed. “And why
haven’t you trained your beast of a dog? He probably ruined my outfit.”
“She’s a girl and just a pup. Still gets a little excited when people
come over, but I will tell you, not the wisest move to wear all white in
Tahoe.
It’s kind of an outdoorsy place, you know? I hope you brought other
clothes, for your sake.” He scanned her from head to toe. So fun to look at. A
gorgeous pain in the ass.
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