Page 25 of Painted Scars
Josh greets me with a wag, a bark, and the cutest little nose twitch.
Okay. I’ll admit, he has a few quirks. Who doesn’t? His list just includes barking us awake and to bed. Stealing worn socks and expensive underwear like he’s building a scent shrine. Claiming prime spot on the couch and growling if anyone dares displace him. Hmm. Maybe I’m raising a tyrant who needs thelessons. Spoiling him doesn’t make him a nuisance or a chronic barker.
“Hi, my prince!” I sweep him into my arms and get smothered in doggy kisses.
I carry him into the kitchen, where Harper is searing a steak for dinner.
I dump my goodies on the aisle and move to her and slam the fine beside the stove, hoping she burns it, and we pretend we never received it.
I give her the bad news before the good. “Fucking Harry submitted a complaint to the Council for Josh barking.”
“Do we need ice cream or tequila shots prior to this murder?” Classic bestie line.
I love that she knows me better than anyone else. “How weird will it taste if we have both?”
“You’re on your own there.” She turns the steak.
Feigning offense, I squeeze Josh and peck his head. “I’m revoking your Ride or Die status effect immediately. Are you with me, Josh, or are you still a traitor on Team Harper?”
He barks his response, and I have no idea whose team he’s on.
“Where’s your loyalty, bestie?” I groan. “You lose a Lachlan Kane point.”
Lachlan Kane. Hero inLeather and Lark, one of our favorite serial killer romances. Also the name of a points tally game, rating everything from a book boyfriend, to a movie, to our day. Both of us automatically assumed five-star status as besties, but I’m starting to rethink her rating with these new threats.
“If I murder Harry, can I win the point back and earn a bonus for dropping the coffin petunias on his doorstep?” Harper leaves the steak to toss the salad.
“I love that you’re evil, you know that?” I grab cutlery and set it on the dining table six feet away.
“I vote we get a t-shirt with that quoteFuck Harryon it,” she says, adding the dressing. “Wear it while we sing Christmas Carols on his doorstep.”
“Come here, Goth Fae.” I squish Josh between us for a hug. “You’re the best partner-in-crime a bestie can ask for, especially for dumping manure in his driveway.”
Harper laughs, then squirms. “Ugh, too much affection. There’s a glitch in the system.”
Josh complains at the love squishfest, and I release them both, coaching him, “Tell Auntie Harper thanks for the doggy lessons and tea.”
He barks loud and proud.
“And thank her for not inducting you into an assassin cult.” He makes more noise for me. “And for the goodies on the doorstep.”
Harper glances over her shoulder. “They’re not from me. Neither is the poop.”
“You didn’t get them?” I point at the items.
“Bitch, please,” she says. “If I were stalking you, you wouldn’t know it, and Harry would be dead and gift-wrapped by now. They’re probably from your mysterious biker friend.”
Friend. Hah! Real funny.
I glance at her and the hall leading to the front door. Why does my heart give a little flutter at the idea of the biker stalker doing this?
I don’t get to analyze that question when a reply dings through on my phone, and I read it.
Charlie: Wasn’t me, boo. Whoever it was knows how to make you smile. See you Friday. Can you pick me up?
Even more confused, I bang back a reply.
Me: Sure. 12PM?
