He couldn’t stand it any longer. He couldn’t have this thoroughly distracting woman in his house. He couldn’t imagine kissing his best friend’s sister. He couldn’t think of how beautiful she was. Well, he could. And he was. But he knew he shouldn’t. It was wrong.

So, instead of dealing with the nasty emotions plaguing him, he simply scooped Bridgette up…

“You can’t! Don’t you dare—”

…and threw her over his shoulder. A gesture he would have immediately regretted if it meant anything other than getting her out of his house.

Unfortunately, her proximity not only granted him a taste of her scent—intoxicating caramel and lemon—but it also meant every time his gaze flickered right, where she was situated atop his shoulder, he got an eyeful of her perfectly round ass. How had he missed that before? Were the clothes she wore on the ranch really so sexless, or had he been deliberately ignoring it to avoid all of the complications he was now facing?

“Hey! Put me down! Put me down!”

She kicked and screamed the entire way, but even when he finally dropped her onto the front porch, she could not deign to be less than polite to him.

“Thanks,” she huffed.

It would have been cute if he hadn’t been desperate to hate her.