Page 29 of How To Catch A Killer … And Date His Best Friend

“Savage,” I warn before catching a glimpse of those big green eyes again and sucker punching myself right in the gut. I let out a sigh and adjust myself to give her a better view of my tattoo. Without hesitation, she’s got her camera out and ready.

Barely even a second later Never Gonna Give You Up by Rick Astley booms through her speakers, and she sucks in a gasp, looking up at me in horror. “Maddox Blake, did I just get Rick-rolled by your tattoo?”

I laugh and hook her helmet over the handlebar. “I tried to warn you,” I tell her. “But this is what happens when you turn twenty-one and all your friends are bad influences on you.”

She just smiles at me, a real genuine smile, and it blows me the fuck away. “You’re an idiot.”

“I’m more than aware,” I tell her, dropping my hand to her lower back. “Come on, let me take you inside.”

She starts to walk before quickly hesitating, and I can’t help but wonder if she feels something real just like I do, if her heart is racing the way mine is. Maybe she got bad vibes and is worried I’m about to start slicing and dicing the second I get her alone.

“Why’d you bring me here?” she asks, looking up at me with those breathtaking eyes.

“Because it’s after five in the morning and everywhere in this city is closed,” I explain. “You needed an escape from whatever the fuck is going on with you, and I have that escape right here. Plus, there’s Cookies ’n Cream ice cream in the freezer, and I figured we couldn’t go wrong with that.”

Her face beams with happiness, and she starts moving again, allowing me to lead her right to the door, only when I slide my key into the lock, I pause and glance at her. “You’re not allergic to dogs are you?”

Her eyes widen with excitement. “You have a dog?”

“Yeah,” I say before cringing, knowing most women tend to shy away from big breeds that look like they could tear you limb from limb. “He’s . . . He’s an attack dog. I rescued him from a dog fighting ring when he was still just a pup. He’s kinda terrifying, but he’s really just a sweet baby who loves cuddles.”

“He’s not gonna bite my face off or anything?”

“Only if I tell him to.”

Her eyes widen again, only this time they fill with fear, and I quickly jump in, shaking my head. “Fuck, Savage. That was a joke. He’s trained, but he’s not vicious. Just a big puppy. If you love him, he’ll love you.”

She lets out a breath. “Okay. Big puppy I can deal with.”

I turn the lock in the door before pausing and glancing at her. “Oh, umm . . . You better brace yourself,” I say, giving her just enough warning before swinging the door open just in time to watch a hundred pounds of pure black furry muscle rush toward her. The sound of his nails on the floorboards is enough to make anyone’s heart stall.

“Jesus—”

Lyra sucks in a breath, attempting to brace herself, and I put my hand out, ready to catch Smooch before he completely bowls her over, but he comes to a screeching halt and looks up at Lyra, as though he’s seeing an angel right from Heaven.

He moves in closer and starts to sniff her, but that quickly morphs into full-blown obsession. He rubs himself against her legs, whimpering as though he can’t possibly get enough of her attention. And honestly, same.

He presses his side protectively against her, and she drops to her knees, fully enamored with him. She scratches and rubs him all over, and I become overly jealous of my dog.

With Lyra on her knees, Smooch is easily able to cover her face with sloppy kisses. She immediately begins to coo at him, head over heels in love with my baby. “Who’s a good boy? Oh, you are such a sweety. I love you already. Yes, I do. Yes, I do.”

Smooch eats it up just as I knew he would, and when I reach down to pet his head, he ducks away, not giving a single flying shit about me.

I let out a huff and glare at Smooch. “Traitor.”

Lyra glances up, beaming from ear to ear. “What’s his name?”

“Smooch.”

Her brow arches and she gapes at me. “Smooch?”

“Yeah, well . . . It’s actually Bingo Baby Smoochy Bum, but it’s a bit of a mouthful, so it’s Smooch for short.”

“I, umm . . . I don’t know how to respond to that.”

I laugh and stride deeper into my home, flipping on a few lights. “Nobody ever does,” I say, leaning against the back of the couch as I watch Lyra love on Smooch. “Hmmm. Interesting.”

She glances up again. “What’s interesting?”