Page 35 of Beware of Dog

“And that is…?”

“It was reckless to tell her I was Dog-affiliated.”

He frowned. “You’re not as smart as you think you are, college girl.”

She propped her hands on her hips. “Um.Excuse me?”

Amusement touched the corners of his mouth, but his eyes were big, and dark, and grave. “You can tell your friends whatever you want about your family.”

She lifted her brows.

“Notwhatever,” he conceded with a tip of his head. “But you can tell them you’re related to the club if you want. No one cares about that. I know you won’t spill secrets.

“What I was gonna say, before you get all offended for no reason, is that I seriously think you need to talk to your sister about what’s going on.”

That was the last thing she’d expected him to say. She covered her surprise with a dramatic eyeroll. “God, is that all anyone can think to tell me? ‘Call your sister.’ ‘Check in with your sister.’”

He wasn’t deterred. “This shit that’s going on with your friend is heavy.”

“Oh my God.”

“Shut up, brat, I’m being serious. It’s a big deal. The fact that it happened, yeah, but your friend’s a goddamn basket case, and you’re trying to support her all on your own. I think you need to talk to your sister, because I think you need someone to supportyou.”

“That’s…actually rather sweet.” And it was, as was the way he wrinkled his nose in distaste. “But I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m not bothering Raven with this. Between the baby, and her business, she doesn’t have time for stupid drama.”

His head tilted to a rarely-used imploring angle, the one that reminded her, every time, that he’d seen active combat in the Army, and that he wasn’t the give-a-damn good-time guy his club brothers seemed to think he was. “It’s not stupid, and she would make time for you.”

“No. I said I wasn’t going to bother her, and I’m not.”

“Damn it, Cass,” he sighed, and wiped a hand down his jaw. Evening stubble was coming in, and rasped against his palm. “You need somebody in your corner.”

“I have you.”

He froze, hand halfway lowered, and darted a glance at her through half-lowered lashes.

“Don’t I?”

He blinked. She could see the rapid throb of his pulse in the side of his throat, and wondered what it meant. Then he straightened, arms folded tight—tighter than before, body now strung with tension. “Yeah.” His voice was gruff. “Of course.”

She knew she did, but it still felt good having confirmation; filled her belly with another of those warm, fluttery sensations she was starting to expect when it came to him.

“But I’m just me,” he continued. “I’m not any kind of good shoulder to lean on.”

“That’s not true.”

His brows flew up.

She gestured between them. “You let us come here, and you’re making chicken soup. You slammed Sig’s face into a counter. You came to—” Her breath hitched, voice catching against a sudden swell of emotion. “You came to get me when I needed you.”

Hehad. He always did. He griped, and he called her “kid,” but he always showed up. He’d even long since stopped objectifying Raven, and he always made sure they stopped for food if she was hungry, or produced a candy bar from his cut pocket, and made rude and crass observations about the people around them that left her laughing wildly if she was in a sour mood, and…

Oh no. Her eyes were stinging.

“Okay. Hey. C’mere.” He pushed off the counter, stepped in close, and draped an arm around her shoulders. When he tugged her into his side, she went with only a moment’s resistance. She fit perfectly under his arm, along the solid line of his ribcage, his hip settling in the inward dip of her waist. And then he brought his other arm around her in a proper hug and said, “It’s alright.”

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