Page 41 of Junkyard Dog

She flopped back against the sofa and restarted the movie. “This is why I suggested we go to your place. A Max-free evening never happens around here.”

He pulled her back to him, happy when she grabbed a pillow and lay her head across his lap. “I’ll risk a run-in with Max if it means hanging out on your couch over mine.” He grinned, easing the elastic from her ponytail. “Comfort trumps convenience.”

She hummed in agreement, reaching behind them to grab a blanket. He tossed it over her and zoned out to the familiar soundtrack of one of his favorite films.

Their first attempt at a booty call was failing miserably.

The call had been placed, but it wasn’t the booty he needed.

He watched her in his peripheral vision as her nose wrinkled and she rolled her eyes at a crude line, echoing it under her breath subconsciously.

It was so normal.

As long as the voice mails he’d left for his brothers remained unreturned, he could almost pretend the two of them were a regular couple hanging out on the sofa after a long day.

Circumstances aside, she liked him. And that knowledge almost eliminated the sting of her words in the park earlier.

Some random guy with a short shelf life.

He didn’t want to be some random guy. But he was. And he could live with that as long as she continued to slap his knee every time a good scene came on screen.

Adding the booty to the call would rip this away.

Unwilling to end the hunt yet, he settled into the sofa and got comfortable, feigning sleep until the credits rolled and Charlotte sighed, covering him with a blanket before she disappeared into her bedroom.

Chapter Fifteen

The tavern dooropened, a pair of gorgeous women stepping out into the heat of the late afternoon. Charlotte smiled at them, listening in as the women grumbled about the hot bartender who had shot down their offers for a night out.

Loosening her ponytail, she made her way into the lounge, rubbing her eyes when they refused to adapt quickly to the dim surroundings.

“Hey!” Alex called over, abandoning a tray of empty glasses on the counter.

She smirked as he sauntered across the floor to her. “Hey yourself, hunter,” she teased, a small jolt running through her when his large hand wrapped around hers. “You almost done?”

He led her through the kitchen doors. “Thomas wants to feed you while I finish up.” He gave her hand a quick squeeze before he disappeared back into the lounge.

“So this is why my bartender’s been watching the clock all afternoon.” Thomas grinned over the grill, pushing a stool toward her with one hand as he flipped a steak with the other. “Better order fast. I don’t think that boy wants his date held up by a burger patty.”

“I’ll just take a grilled cheese, please,” she requested, snagging a fry from a bowl. “Max stuffed me with microwaved bagels and eggs earlier.”

Sneering in exaggerated disgust, Thomas pulled a bag of bread off the shelf. “He was in last night with some new arm candy. Rude little thing. I can’t remember the last time Max ended a date before midnight.”

“I heard all about it.” She laughed, rolling her eyes. “Someday, Thomas. Someday, Max will find a good woman and settle down.”

Thomas glanced up from his careful cheese layering. “Alex did, so there’s hope for them all, I suppose.”

She snorted inelegantly. “Don’t get sappy,” she chastised, her eyes widening in appreciation as the elderly bar owner added an extra cheese slice. “We’re just having a little fun until Mr. Nomad gets antsy and hops a plane out of here.”

Thomas eased the sandwich onto the grill and flattened it with his spatula. “Sometimes even the most restless animals can be calmed with the right touch.” When she wrinkled her nose, he changed the topic. “Any leads on those deaths?”

“Nothing,” she said, snatching another fry. “Max and I have been pulling double shifts for three days, tromping around the western ridge, and all we have to show for it is sand-blasted boots and ugly tan lines.” She leaned forward to watch her sandwich. “I’ve barely had time to eat.”

Thomas shook his head, muttering under his breath as he walked into the large cooler at the back of the kitchen.

The past three days had been little more than a blur of sand, stones, and snubbed kibble, punctuated by late-night texts with Alex and early morning calls from Max. Her long days had been made bearable by her beast of a companion that tracked her down every shift for a quick petting before he made his way to the highest point of the terrain and stood watch. When the FBI joined her and Max on the ground, Butch remained tight to her side, his slack leash providing a modicum of comfort for the wary agents.

Alex poked his head into the kitchen. “Any chance you can throw a burger on for me?” he asked, smiling when Thomas grunted and tossed two patties on the grill.

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