Together, they drove the sofa through the mounds of splintered, broken or crushed objects that they’d dragged from Emma’s home. “What’s up with you and Em?” Tag shot a shrewd glance in Lucas’s direction. “There’s less ice in the Lambert Glacier.” Wasn’t that the truth? Although the cold front wasn’t coming from him. Lucas grimaced, pushing back from the hot red metal of Mooch’s truck. “Just a misunderstanding.” Not that there was any chance of misinterpreting her reaction to his explanation. She’d made her disapproval crystal clear. And loud. Megaphone loud. He’d backed off, giving her time to calm down. But after half an hour of silence, he checked in on her. She could have fallen asleep in the tub. Or found herself grounded in the water, unable to gain her feet and too prideful to call for help. Instead, he’d found her fast asleep in his bed. The sight of her curled beneath his blankets, her face cuddling his pillow, had brought instant satisfaction, along with soul-deep possessiveness.
