“Brent is an asshat. Remember that.” “I mean, maybe—” “Nope. He’s an asshat. You are not the problem here. He is.” He wrapped me in a tight hug and rested his chin on the top of my head. I melted against him, enjoying the knowledge that if nothing else, I always had him. Plus, he smelled good. Mathias took care with his appearance. His outfits—skinny jeans and a crisp white t-shirt today—might scream casual, but they were always calculated to impress. “God, you’re short.” With a snort, I stepped back. “Thanks.” “That’s what I’m here for, to remind you of your vertical deficiencies.”
