Page 86 of Wasted
She quirked an eyebrow at him as she lifted the mug to her lips. “That would be the first time.”
Cillian grinned. “Maybe I’m learning. And maybe it’s worth waiting for.” The shift and suggestion in his tone said he was no longer referring only to Max.
A blush surged to her cheeks again. She took an urgent, long sip of coffee.
“Awesome dog, though. He’s huge.”
She grasped the subject change. “Thank you. I think he’s wonderful.”
“At least his size should help scare away anyone with ideas.”
“So you didn’t have to follow me home.” She gave him a teasing smile.
“I don’t know.” He met her gaze with a daring twinkle in his eyes. “My bark might be as impressive as his. I know my bite is.”
“Well, he’s never bitten anyone, and he rarely barks, so you might have something there.”
“He doesn’t bark?”
She shook her head. “Hardly ever. I’d only heard him bark once in his life until three nights ago.”
Cillian’s brows dipped low over his eyes.
Oh, goodness. What had she stepped into now?
“What happened three nights ago?” The sudden tension in his tone signaled his protective instincts had been triggered, though his restful posture didn’t change. He would never accept anything but the whole story now.
She swallowed. “He seemed to hear something outside.”
Cillian dropped his foot to the ground and leaned forward. “Someone was outside your house?”
“I didn’t know that at the time.”
“But you do now?” A sharp edge of what seemed to be anger cut his tone.
She moistened her lips. “I went to the garage where Max seemed to think there was a problem. I had heard something that sounded like a jiggling noise.” She took in a breath.
Cillian would not like this next part. But his stare locked on her with an intensity that meant she didn’t dare try to soften or hide anything.
“I thought it might have been the doorknob, so I checked it. It was still locked, but I looked outside. And I saw footprints in the snow that weren’t there before.”
“Footprints?” He abruptly stood. “And you’re just telling me this now?” Yes, that was anger in his voice.
She stood, too, setting her mug on the coffee table before tilting up her chin and meeting his gaze. “I knew if I told you, you would’ve overreacted and camped out on my couch or insisted we tell McCully about this, even though he obviously wouldn’t have believed me or done anything about it.” She glanced at Max behind her.
He’d moved to standing, his tail tucked as he stared at Cillian.
“And would you please calm down? You’re scaring Max.”
Cillian’s focus jumped to Max, then away. He blew out a breath and pushed his fingers through his hair. “I just can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” He shook his head, then froze. “Wait, what if that’s when the killer put the bookend in your car?”
“I keep my car in the garage. And it was still locked.”
“Well,” Cillian lifted his hand into the air, “you can’t be alone until we find the killer. That’s obvious.”
“Only to you.” She delivered the rebuttal with the incredulity his statement deserved.
“Come on, Vicks.”
