Page 69 of How To Catch A Killer … And Date His Best Friend

She collapses onto the couch and Smooch immediately jumps up beside her, dropping his big head into her lap as she pulls the bag I’d gotten from the drug store onto the cushion beside her. Then as she snuggles back against the couch, she starts going through the array of makeup and toiletries I’d picked up, and judging by the way her eyes flash with silent laughter, I’ve more than fucked up. Which is confirmed only a moment later when she holds up a foundation stick and fixes me with a hard stare.

“Do you think I have the complexion of a ghost or did you select this shade based on an eenie-meenie-miny-moe system?”

“I, ummm . . . I don’t know,” I say, silently kicking myself. Hunter told me to research this shit, otherwise I was just going in blind, and honestly, he was right. He would have researched the shit out of it. He probably would have pulled up seventeen tutorials and somehow become an overnight expert. Unfortunately, while I’m very committed to the cause, I show that commitment in a different way.

Lyra just rolls her eyes and looks back at me over the couch. “You hungry? I could eat,” she asks while a yawn rips through her.

“I could eat,” I say, knowing damn well this woman is going to crash on the couch before I even get a chance to put an order in. “What do you want?”

She starts umming and ahhing, and as she contemplates, I make my way into the kitchen, scooping the new iPhone off the counter. “Here,” I say, handing it to her, watching the slow comprehension cross her face. “Figured you’d need this.”

“You . . . you bought me a new phone?”

“Of course,” I tell her. “I was responsible for yours being blown into a million little pieces. Why wouldn’t I get you a new one?”

“I just . . . This seems a bit much, don’t you think? You must have already spent a couple grand on all these clothes and makeup. I can’t accept this. Surely insurance is going to replace it all.”

“You built a dark room in your apartment. Hell, in a space that wasn’t actually part of your apartment, so no. Insurance isn’t going to do a thing. But it’s fine, Savage. I don’t want you having to worry about this stuff.”

She goes to argue and I shake my head, cutting her off. “Just accept it.”

She lets out a sigh. “Thank you. I will,” she finally says. “But for the record, I’m financially stable. Black Velvet does very well, so I don’t need you showering me with this kind of stuff. I can take care of myself.”

“I’m sure you can. But it doesn’t change a thing.”

I turn and walk away, not giving her a chance to argue the point further. I know she’s financially stable. That’s no secret. Anybody who’s dared to breathe near Black Velvet would be able to see how wildly successful she must be. To assume otherwise would be pure ignorance.

Before I can get far, headlights sweep through my home followed by the sound of Hunter’s Challenger pulling into my driveway and I pause, my back stiffening.

I haven’t exactly cleared this particular little hiccup with Lyra yet, and I have a solid idea of how it’s going to go.

Smooch and Lyra both turn at the sound, while I glance toward her, trying to gauge her reaction as she watches Hunter out the window. Her face scrunches up with irritation, but she keeps her mouth shut, that is until he reaches into the back of his car and pulls out an overnight bag, slinging it over his shoulder before striding up the pathway like he owns the place.

“No,” she breathes, understanding dawning on her.

Shit. “Yep.”

She turns to look at me, her eyes wide and begging. “No.”

I drag my hand down my face, wincing as the words tumble from my mouth. “He lost his home today, too,” I remind her.

She blows out her cheeks, not having a single comeback when Hunter pushes through the door, looking entirely too comfortable for a man who’s carrying all his worldly possessions in a small duffel bag.

His stare immediately falls on Lyra as Smooch launches off her lap and protectively hovers in front of her as though Hunter is the Grim Reaper come to snatch her soul out of her body. “Sup, roomie?”

Lyra clenches her jaw, rage bursting through her eyes before she huffs and turns to me. “How long is this clusterfuck supposed to last?”

I wince again, watching Lyra put a hand on Smooch’s back, instantly calming the dog.

“For the foreseeable future,” I admit.

“Fuck.” Lyra falls back against the cushion muttering to herself as she starts breaking her new phone out of the packaging. “What could possibly go wrong?”

That simple question has Hunter meeting my stare across the room, because she has a good fucking point. The three of us living under the same roof is bound to cause trouble. There’s no question about it. I just hope that whenever that trouble comes, my home manages to survive the wreckage.

Hunter disappears into my home, tossing his bag into the spare room and as Smooch follows him, softly growling, Lyra starts setting up her new phone, becoming consumed by the task.

I drop down on the couch opposite her and scroll through the endless takeout options when my phone chimes with a new notification on our group chat.