Dallas had traveled the globe with his job, but had never been to a place where it rained so often. While most people accustomed to a dry, warm climate might despise it, he found the rhythmic patter soothing. He carefully levered himself up on one elbow from his reclining position on the couch to look down at Mia in the flickering firelight, her back spooned to his front. After their intense talk, they’d made more popcorn to replace the spilled bowl, then watched the Bruce Lee marathon and engaged in lively banter that relaxed them both. When she’d fallen asleep against his shoulder, he should’ve put her to bed. But he couldn’t resist the temptation to hold her in his arms for just one night. Her sleeping face serene, she looked as sweet and innocent as a spring lamb. He smiled. His “innocent” little lamb could morph into Rambo in the blink of an eye … and he and Zane had the battle scars to prove it.
