Page 68 of Painted Scars
I pause mid-scratch. Josh has a new collar. Pale blue, sparkly, and bedazzled with rhinestones that spellMenacein glinting silver. A tiny skull charm dangles at his throat like a war medal. Dramatic. Shining. Totally my brand. Damn adorable.
I look up at Grumpy Daddy’s back and hold back a squeal. “Did you accessorize my dog?”
He removes a baking dish of scalloped potatoes from the oven and sets it on a wooden board to cool. “He needed a tactical upgrade with glitter grenades.”
“Tactical?” I tease. “It’s giving BookTok Influencer Dog Who Does Hit Jobs on the Side vibes.”
“I stand by my choices.” Daddy is the perfect book boyfriend.
My heart wrenches with reluctance to give him up at the end of this.
I move that thought along and praise Josh until he finishes and trots away to gnaw at his chew toys and growl.
I return to my stalker and pat him on the arm. “This is sweet, you know? The food, care, and seeing you wear my apron short-circuits my brain.”
“Sit and eat, Glitter Bomb, before I make dessert out of you.” He punctuates his words with a clap on my ass.
“Yes, Grumpy Daddy.” I grin, relishing the burn on my cheeks as I float to the table with my drink.
My grumpy stalker plates my food, and my stomach groans since I haven’t eaten since morning. I try not to drool at the potatoes dripping in garlic, cream, and cheese, steamed asparagus, and chicken parmigiana.
One plate. No setting for him. Bitterness clenches in my gut. I’m still on the outside after opening up to him. Untrustworthy, according to the man underneath. I hate how much that matters.
I slice up my chicken and say nonchalantly, “Aren’t you eating with me?”
He shakes his head. “Not yet. Mystery maintenance.”
Rational me reasons that he can’t wear a mask unless he’s learned the cost of taking it off. So what cost is he frightened of with me?
Book Girlie me shouts at me to take it off. That we don’t care if he doesn’t give us his name. He’s the most real thing I’ve touched in years.
I play down my disappointment with another joke and press my fingertips to my temples.
“What's wrong?” He rubs my knee under the table.
“Nothing.” I fake pain.
“Have you got a headache?”
“Shh.” I crush my eyes closed and pretend to concentrate. “You're interfering with my Jedi mind trick!
“Nice try, Glitter Bomb.” He falls back into place beside me. “You’ve been a bad girl, and the helmet’s staying on.”
“Worth a try since my charm isn’t working,” I mutter.
Josh jumps up on my leg and sniffs, ruining the moment.
“No, boy.” I push him away and try to keep my voice level. “You’ve had dinner. Don’t be a pig.”
He tilts his head and gives me puppy eyes.
“Go!” Grumpy barks, and Josh scampers off to his doggy bed and gives him serious stink eye.
Awkward silence descends on us as I wait for the piping hot food to cool.
I break it with a question, one part research, the other digging tunnels under his defenses. “So… what intel have you gathered on me, Robin Hood? Am I a princess, brat, or book slut?”
“You’re a glitter bomb.” The amusement’s back. “Which means you’re all three. Plus a menace.”
