Finally, I walked around to the driver's side and got in. Through the windshield, I gave Chloe one last look. She was staring straight at me now. I sucked in a breath. I knew she couldn't see more than my shadow, if that. But I could see her just fine. Those eyes. Those lips. I felt myself swallow.
It had never been this way, not with any other girl. What was it about her? It wasn't just her looks. It was something more, something better. I wanted to wrap her up and carry her away. I wanted to make her mine and spoil the snot out of her. Not with money. The way it looked, she had plenty of her own.
No. To win this girl, I'd need to bring something else. But what?
She was still looking. And so was I.
A hand on my knee broke the spell. I turned to look. It was Brittney. She gave my knee a squeeze. Her voice was breathless as she said, "You are such a bad-ass."
I brushed aside the hand and reached for the key in the ignition. Whatever Brittney said next was drowned out by the rumble of the engine, followed by the squeal of tires as I roared out of the lot. I glanced in the rear-view mirror, but didn't see what I was looking for – Chloe.
She was gone.
Again.
Chapter 17
I woke early the next morning, alone by choice. I'd gone to bed alone too. Again, by choice. After the scene outside the restaurant, I'd driven the girls straight to Amber's place, some swanky condo in mid-town.
I'd left them there, sulking in their skimpy dresses. The way it looked, they'd been expecting a sleepover. Things were getting out of hand.
Amber and I had an agreement. She was firmly in the friend zone. She knew that. Or at least, she used to know that, until Brittney came along.
The way it looked, I'd be losing a friend either way.
I was mulling all this over while I sat alone in my study, reviewing the next round of security checks for the Vegas thing. After this, I had to hit the office, meet some promo people, and stop by a fundraiser later on.
I shook my head. A fundraiser. In a million years, I'd have never seen that coming.
Today, I wasn't in the mood for any of it. It was just after eight. I wanted to hang out here and catch Chloe the next time she walked by. The dog seemed to like me, so that made us friends, right?
Hey, it was a start.
I shook my head. Maybe it was already finished, thanks to that whole fight scene in the parking lot.
Sitting at my desk, I glanced out the window. No Chloe. No dog. The sidewalk was empty, just like it had been the other hundred other times I'd checked.
Screw it. I pushed back my chair and grabbed my stuff. Better to work in my office downtown, where I might actually get something done. Five minutes later, I was pulling out of my front gate, driving the same car as the previous night.
I'd just hit the highway when I spotted something that changed everything. It was a small silver I.D. tag in the shape of a classic dog-bone. The thing was just sitting there on the passenger-side seat. I reached for it and read the engraved name. Chucky. I felt myself smile.
A half-hour later, I was standing on Chloe's front doorstep. By now, I had a plan. I'd tell her that I'd seen her at the restaurant. I'd explain what happened. I'd tell her the reason for the fight and the reason I'd been out with two girls. I'd make it clear that Brittney and Amber were just friends.
And then, I'd take it from there.
Maybe I'd make a joke of it, tell her I was here for steak and eggs. I'd been teasing her about that just last night. She liked to laugh. She'd get it.
Standing on her doorstep, I rang the bell. From somewhere inside, Chucky started going nuts, barking like his life depended on it. I waited. Other than the barking, nothing happened for a long time.
Not wanting to leave, I waited some more.
Finally, maybe five minutes later, the door finally flew open, and there she was – once again, looking nothing like I remembered.
Her hair was a wild mess, like she'd fallen asleep while it was still wet. She was holding a pink hairbrush in one hand and a small paper bag in the other. She wore an oversized gray T-shirt and pink pajama bottoms dotted with some sort of black-and-white pattern. I glanced down for a closer look. Tuxedoes? No. Penguins. Ninja penguins.
I felt myself smile. She was so adorable I could hardly stand it. I looked up, catching her eye. That's when I noticed something else, the dark circles under her eyes.
I froze as a horrible thought occurred to me. She'd been sleeping, obviously.
For the first time, it hit me how rude this was. It was only nine o'clock. How late had she worked last night? I hadn't left the restaurant until nearly one in the morning. How long had she been there?
Shit.
In front of me, Chloe's gaze narrowed. The way it looked, I was about to get my ass chewed. I waited, figuring I might as well take it like a man. I owed her that much at least, along with an apology afterwards.
But then she smiled. The smile was wickedly big and filled with mischief. "Hi!" she gushed like a rabid fangirl. "I'm ever so glad you stopped by."
What?
As I stood there, she practically leaped out of the entryway and slammed the door behind her. When she spoke again, her voice was half Marilyn Monroe, half serial killer. "Steak and eggs, right?"
I took a half step backward. "Uh, did I wake you up?" Yeah, the question was stupid. Obviously, I had. But what else was I supposed to say?
She leaned closer. "Of course not," she gushed. "I've been waiting for hours and hours for you to show up. Look!" She lifted her hand and shoved the paper bag in my direction. "I made you breakfast and everything, just like you wanted." She lowered her voice. "Baby."
I eyed the bag. It was too small for a severed head. Wasn't it?
She shoved the bag closer. "Go on," she urged in that same breathy voice. "Take it. I made it just for you."
This, I had to see. Slowly, I opened the thing. I looked inside. In it, I spotted two whole eggs, along with a handful of what could only be doggie treats. Steak-flavored. I'd have bet my life on it.
It was fucking hilarious.
But laughing would be a mistake. She was obviously pissed. And for a good reason. Still, it was so cute that I could hardly help myself. Trying to keep a straight face, I looked up, meeting her gaze. "Really," I said, "you shouldn't have."
Her face froze. She looked down to the bag, still in my hands. She said nothing.
I reached into the bag and pulled out a doggie treat. I held it up and gave it a sniff. "I think I'll save this for later."
Chloe's eyes were still trained on the bag. She looked suddenly uneasy.
I didn't want her to be. This was my fault, not hers. I flicked my head to her pajama bottoms. "Penguins. Nice."
From the look on her face, she didn't think so. The morning was cool, but her face was looking suddenly warm, with a hint of pink creeping across her cheeks. She turned away. "I've gotta go."
"Wait," I said.
With obvious reluctance, she turned back to me.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the dog's tag. "I found this in my car." I held the tag out to her and waited.
She looked at the tag for a long moment. "Oh." Her voice was quiet. "So that's why you stopped by?"
Mostly, it was just my excuse. But she was obviously uncomfortable and maybe only half-awake. Hell, she wasn't even dressed, not in normal clothes anyway. Selfishly, I wanted to wait and see what played out.
I could work with this. The way it looked, she felt bad about her reaction. If she felt bad enough, maybe she'd invite me inside for coffee.
All I had to do was wait. I wanted to. But that would be a dick move on my part. She deserved better.
"It was one of the reasons," I said. Grinning, I held up the bag. "But hey, thanks for breakfast."
She gave the bag a worried look. "Uh, sorry about that." Her gaze shifted to the silver medallion, still waiting in my outstretched hand. She cleared her throat and slowly reached for it.
At t
he feel of her warm fingers on my palm, I felt myself swallow. When she pulled away, the morning felt ten degrees cooler and not half as nice.
She gave me a smile, a real smile this time. "And thanks."
"No problem." I glanced toward my car. "Anyway, I better head back. See you around?"
Silently, she nodded, looking cute as hell, even with that messed-up hair and no makeup.
Reluctantly, I left her there, standing on the porch, still holding the pink hairbrush. The way it looked, she didn't even realize it was there.
Once inside my car, I fired up the engine. I waited just long enough to make sure she hadn't gotten herself locked out. And then, I backed out of the driveway and headed downtown, feeling a stupid grin settle across my face.
She was full of surprises. I liked that. And now I had a secret weapon, doggie treats. Woo the dog, win the girl. It could work, right?
Chapter 18
A familiar male voice broke my concentration. "What are you doing?"
Sitting in my study, I looked up. It was Bishop, looking half-amused, half-annoyed. I hadn't heard him come in. Then again, I never did. The guy was silent as a shadow.
He strode in and claimed the seat opposite me. He glanced down at my desk. "What the hell is that?"
I looked down. Scattered across my desk were a dozen small piles of doggie treats – different brands, different flavors. I reached for the nearest pile and plucked a treat off the top. I held it up. "I'm trying to match this."
His eyebrows furrowed. "Match it how?"
It was a treat from Chloe's paper bag. "I want to know what brand it is."
"Why?"
"So I can buy more."
"Why?" he repeated.
I shrugged. "Just because."
"Lemme guess." He leaned back in his seat. "It's about the girl with terrier. Isn't it?"
"Maybe."
He flicked his gaze to the treat in my hand. "So that's the brand you're looking for?"
"Yeah."
"How'd you get that one?"
"She gave it to me."
His eyebrows lifted, inviting me to elaborate.
I gave the treat a closer look. "I think it's steak flavored."
"Yeah?" He laughed. "You taste it?"
"No."
"Right," he said.
I let the treat fall back to the pile. "I didn't," I told him.
It hadn't come to that. Not yet, anyway.
He made a forwarding motion with his hand. "Go on. Give it a taste. Let me know what you think."
"Listen, if you're not gonna help–"
"Just ask her," he said.
I gave him a look. "If you were me, would you ask her?"
"No," he said. "I'd slip into her house, check the cupboards."
I knew him. He wasn't kidding. "Forget it," I told him.
He stood. "Already forgotten."
"Hang on," I said. "Is there a reason you stopped by?"
"I came for the car," he said.
I didn't need to ask which car he meant. He meant the plain-Jane one that was practically bullet-proof. Invisible. Indestructible. Funny, the car sounded a lot like my half-brother – even if he could be a dick sometimes.
"If you need help," I said, "call me."
"I won't. But thanks." And then, he was gone.
I returned my attention to the treats. They all looked the same to me. Would they taste the same? I picked one up and gave it a sniff. Steak? It sure as hell didn't smell like it.
I tossed the thing back down. Screw it.
Two minutes later, I was striding through my back yard. The floodlights were off, and the yard was dark. Through the trees, I spotted the tall iron fence. Just beyond that fence was Chloe's house. I stopped at the fence and looked. Her back patio light was on, but the house was dark, and the blinds were shut.
The way it looked, no one was home.
A familiar male voice sounded behind me. "So you're actually gonna do it?"
With a muttered curse, I turned toward the sound. "No," I hissed. "And keep quiet, will ya?"
"Why? She's not home."
"How do you know?"
"Because I checked."
I froze. "Don't tell me you went in there."
"Alright."
I stepped closer and worked to keep my voice calm. "Did you?"
"No. I didn't have to." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a foil wrapper. "The way it looks, she buys 'em by the truck-load."
I stared at the thing. "You went through her trash?"
"Nah," he said. "The recycle bin."
I took the wrapper from his hand. It didn't look recyclable to me. Then again, I wasn't exactly an expert. Still, I gave Bishop a good, long look. "If you went inside…"
"I didn't."
Bishop did a lot of things, but lying wasn't one of them. I turned to gaze through the fence. Near Chloe's back patio, I spotted the familiar blue recycling bin next to her trash can.
"See?" Bishop said.
From here, it was hard to see anything. I turned back toward my own house. "I thought you were leaving."
"Yeah." As I walked, he fell in step beside me. "But I was betting you'd be out here."
"You bet yourself?" I said. "How much?"
"Does it matter?" He stopped walking. "I've got to ask you something."
Reluctantly, I stopped too. "What?"
"Were you really gonna hit the house?"
"No."
He was quiet a long moment. "Then what was your plan?"
"I was gonna hit the trash."
He shook his head. "Shit."
"What?"'
"You be careful."
"What?" I almost laughed. "You see me getting caught?"
"No. But you're losing it."
Sure, I was. This, I had to hear. "What makes you say that?"
"Because," he said, "you're willing to dig through this chick's garbage just to find out what her dog eats."
Well, there was that.
"You want some advice?" he asked.
"Nope." I lifted the empty treat bag. "Shopping time."
His voice was deadpan. "Shopping time?"
"Yup." I turned and started walking.
He followed suit. "Just think about it," he said, turning toward the garage. "See you in a couple days." And then, he was gone – for real, this time.
As for me, I grabbed my car keys and hit the nearest grocery store, where I found Chucky's favorite brand in the pet aisle. I bought a dozen foil packets of deluxe doggie treats – savory steak, bacony bacon, and a couple other flavors, because even dogs like some variety, right?
Forget Bishop. I wasn't losing it. I was finding it. And the next time Chloe walked by, I'd be ready.
Chapter 19
The next day, I was dressed and ready at the crack of dawn. Sitting at the desk in my study, I had my eyes on the sidewalk and a packet of doggie treats in my pocket.
I wasn't taking any chances.
Technically, I was working from home. In reality, I was doing a piss-poor job of it. I'd cancelled half a dozen meetings to be here. I'd be paying for it later. But I had to see her.
I was watching two sets of windows – the ones overlooking the front yard and the ones that looked out the side. The side windows were my secret weapon. If I spotted her that way, I'd have time to catch her out front.
Or at least, that was the plan.
By noon, she still hadn't shown. When my cell phone rang, I pulled it out and took a look. It was Amber. We hadn't talked since the other night, after the fight in the parking lot.
I glanced out the front window, and then toward the side. Still no Chloe.
I hit the answer button. "Hey."
"Lawton?" She sounded surprised. "I thought I'd get your voicemail." She gave a nervous giggle. "This is you, isn't it?"
"Last time I checked." I glanced toward the front window. "What's up?"
"About the other night," she said, "I wanted to tell you that, um, I'm really super sor
ry about that."
I paused. "Why are you sorry?"
"I know you don't like Brittney."
Why deny it? "Yeah. And maybe you shouldn't either."
Amber had a good heart. But her taste in friends had sucked for as long as I could remember. It was ironic, really. I was her friend. And I was a dick half the time – proof enough she had shitty taste.
She spoke up. "But you don't really know her. She's like my best friend, and I know she'd do anything for me."
I glanced out the side windows. "Uh-huh."
"She would," Amber insisted.
"And you've been 'best friends' for how long?"
"I dunno. A few weeks."
Amber went through best friends the way hookers went through condoms. It always ended the same. One way or another, the friend would show their ass, and Amber would finally move on, only after getting hurt.
"Weeks?" I said. "That long, huh?"
"It's not like that. You'll see." Her voice picked up steam. "She and I, we're gonna make it up to you. Like a surprise, but only better."
In life, there wasn't a lot that scared me. But this was a truly terrifying prospect. "Forget it. There's nothing to make up."
"But I want to," she insisted. "And so does Brittney. She feels really bad about it."
I scanned the front sidewalk. "Uh-huh."
"The other night, we could tell you were mad." She hesitated. "And you hated that restaurant. We could tell."
It wasn't the restaurant that I hated. It was the way things played out. "Nah," I said. "That place was alright."
"And then, there was that fight outside." Amber's voice grew quiet. "And later, the other stuff."
I knew what she meant. At the end of the night, they'd gotten pissy when I kept them in the friend zone.
Listening, I was still watching the windows. In the shrubbery just outside the open front gate, I caught movement. I leaned forward. Damn it. Just a squirrel.
"I mean," Amber continued, "I know I got kind of clingy at the end. But I get it. Honest."
I shook my head. "You get what?"
"That you just don't think I'm pretty enough."
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