Page 35 of Will Bark for Pizza
“It’s only fair,” she said.
“How’s that?”
“You know my entire family.”
“I just met most of them a couple months ago.”
“I haven’t met any of yours.”
“You’re not missing much. I mean, Madeline and her family are great. But my parents . . .”
I let the sentence trail off as I stared into the dancing flames. A silence fell over our conversation as I reached down to stroke the back of Husker’s neck. A silence that I feared might give Red a reason to call it a night and leave me outside alone. I threw out another question.
“Where did you sleep last night?”
“What?”
“Last night. You weren’t here.”
“It’s a long story.”
“I’m not in a hurry.” The words seemed to spill out of their own accord, too quickly for me to decide whether or not I should actually speak them. “But if you’re tired?—”
“I am,” she said, freeing her legs from the inside of her sweatshirt and slipping her feet back into the rose-gold flip-flops at the foot of her chair. I could make out the beginning of the tattoo that snaked around her right calf. Some type of purple flower peeked out from the hem of her leggings.
“C’mon, Bubbies. We should get to bed,” she said to Husker, bending to reach for the leash. Her fingers brushed against mine, and we both froze at the electrifying contact. I knew she felt it too, or she wouldn’t be staring back at me.
My gaze dropped to her lips. I sucked in a breath when her tongue slipped out to wet them. Her fingertips rested atop my hand, alerting every nerve ending in my body. Oh, this woman was trouble all right. Trouble Iwanted to get intimately acquainted with, consequences be damned.
A wet nose wedged itself under my arm hard enough to make it jerk away from the arm of my chair.
The moment shattered with the contact.
Husker stared at me, as though asking why I stopped petting him. And then he stood, backing his rear end against my legs with a shove.
Kira let out a soft laugh, standing and tucking her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie. I finally made out the embroidered words.Do not annoy the writer. She may put you in a book and kill you.
“He wants booty scratches.”
“Is that what this means?” I asked Husker, obliging.
“It’s only second to belly rubs.”
“And pizza?” I guessed.
Husker snapped his head at me, those giant eyes staring expectantly.
“You said it,” Kira said, holding up her hands to alleviate herself of any guilt.
“So youarea serial killer, but only in your books?” I guessed.
Kira slid me a sly smile, those blue eyes twinkling against the firelight.
“Trying to find out the hard way?”
“Do you write murder mysteries?”
“Not exactly,” she said. “But I have been known to kill off characters who had it coming.”
