Page 41 of Stunner (Whiskey Dolls 3)

The relief was so strong, it felt like a two-ton weight had been lifted off my chest. “It won’t happen again. And if you aren’t too mad, I’d still really like to take you to that party tomorrow night.”

Another breath. Another considering look. Then, finally, she put me out of my misery. “I’d like that too.”

Thank fuck, I thought just as I fisted the front of her shirt and yanked her to me so I could feast on her lips again. Our tongues dueled in the most delicious way, and it took an act of God for me to pull back when all I wanted to do was lay her out on the floor beneath me.

She blinked, her glazed eyes taking a few seconds to clear. “Just one question. Is Hazel doing your hair and makeup, or do you have someone else in mind?”

Smartass, I thought on a chuckle. “Why? You thinking of booking her for yourself?”

She scrunched her lips to the side in fake contemplation. “What can I say? The girl knows her way around sparkles and butterfly clips. It’s impressive.”

19

ASHER

Itwisted back and forth in front of the mirror, trying to get a good look at myself from every angle.

“What do you think?” I asked Triumph as I did another turn. “Is it too much? Or maybe not enough? I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard, but I also don’t want to come off like I don’t give a damn.

I looked over my shoulder to where he was lying on the end of my bed. He lifted his head and let out a little doggy huff that sounded an awful lot like,I don’t give a shit, lady. Just pick a dress and let me get back to my nap.

“You’re really no help, you know that?”

He flopped over onto his side with a groan, putting his back to me, the K-9 version of flipping me the finger. Ungrateful little jerk. He hadn’t been living with me a full week yet. How he was already spoiled was beyond me, but there was no disputing the fact.

I heard the sound of the front door opening, followed by my mother’s musical, “Yoo-hoo. Anybody home?”

“In the bedroom,” I called.

A second later, she came swooshing into my room on a cloud of patchouli and lavender, her arms laden with bags from the petstore. Triumph shot up to standing and started to bark, dancing around in circles on my bed with excitement at the sight and smell of her. “Where’s my precious little fluffy boy?” she sang loudly. “There he is! There’s my fluffy boy.” She dropped her items where she stood and squatted low so she could love all over her new grandpuppy.

And there was the answer to how he’d gotten spoiled so damn fast.

Turning from the mirror, I attempted to pin her with my hardest scolding look. “Mom, you’vegotto stop buying him stuff. This is getting ridiculous.”

She blew out a raspberry, totally unaffected. “Oh,pfft. This sweet little angel baby could never have enough stuff.”

“Yeah, well, thatangel babyspent most of yesterday using my rugs as a toilet, so excuse me for thinking he might not deserve everything the pet store has on the dog aisle.”

She waved me off like it was nothing as she scooped up the bags and carried them to my bed. “He’s just a baby. He’ll learn soon enough.”

He wasn’t, really. Owen had put his age at roughly a year, but telling my mother that would have been pointless. I let out a snort and rolled my eyes as I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m pretty sure he knows what he’s doing is wrong, but he just doesn’t give a damn.”

Mom bent at the waist, giving my defiant pup another pat. “Aw, he’s just strong-willed. That’s the sign of a good guard dog.”

The supposed guard dog in question rolled onto his back, presenting his belly for rubs. “Yeah, that’s all kind of ferocious right there,” I deadpanned.

My mother started the process of unpacking two new collars, a crocheted dog sweater with Triumph’s name across the back, and about a bazillion toys, all with squeakers that Triumph lovedto go nuts on. All of this, of course, to add to theotherpiles of crap she’d already bought him.

“What dog needssevencollars?” I squeaked in bewilderment.

“One for every day of the week,” she stated proudly. “You wouldn’t expect to wear the same pair of underwear every single day. Keeping him in one collar is basically the same thing.”

“It’s not.” I shook my head, baffled at how my mother’s brain worked. “It’ssonot.”

She finally turned from the dog and looked at me for the first time, smiling sweetly as she said, “Well don’t you look nice.”

I appreciated the compliment, but I’d been hoping for a bit stronger reaction than that. “Just nice?” I asked, turning back to the mirror for another once over.

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