Page 120 of Caught from Behind

“Woof!”

We turn to see an indignant Steve standing on the other side of the door, slobbering all over the glass panel.

“Watch out,” she teases, “my protector has teeth.”

“Which one?” I ask lightly.

A smirk. “I don’t think you want to hear about all the ways Lake uses his teeth.”

“Oh, I definitely do,” I say, looping my arm through hers and guiding her back inside, bending down and giving the goodest boy there ever was his requisite scratches (and getting Steve’s obligatory snorts and sniffs and sneezes in return). “Because then I can tell you all about the ways Riggs uses his tongue.”

She looks at me, mouth agape, eyes dancing. “You’re the best kind of menace, you know that?”

I buff my knuckles on my shoulder. “Damn right, I am.”

CHAPTER FORTY

Riggs

“Your dad is going to stay here tonight,” Nova tells me as she deals the next hand of UNO.

I freeze, my beer halfway to my mouth, and stare at her.

Then Lake.

Then my dad.

What the actual fuck?

I push my chair back, stand, and meet my dad’s eyes. I tilt my head to the door. “Outside,” I growl.

“The deck’s sure getting a lot of use tonight,” Lake quips.

Nova smacks him on the chest but I ignore both of them as I march to the door, push it open, shaking my head at Ella when she starts to push up out of her chair, as if to follow.

My dad lumbers out in front of me, looking completely at ease despite my friend’s woman just declaring that they’re having a sleepover.

What’s next? Face masks and manicures?

I shut the door firmly. Okay, maybe it edges into a slam.

But…what the actual fuck is going on right now?

I lean back against the railing, cross my arms, and lift my brows, silently asking that question.

My dad answers without preamble. “She needs help lugging her gear up for a shoot.” A shrug. “Lake has a meeting with a prospective sponsor and I’d like to learn more about photography.”

“Like you want to learn about cosmetology?”

He’s gone into the salon at least once a day since Ella cut his hair almost a week ago. Hell, last night at dinner, he was discussing the merits of something called 40-volume over 20-volume.

Jesus.

I need to do more Googling.

My dad crosses his arm. “I like to learn new things, son.” A beat. “You know that.”

I inhale. I do know that. It’s what he did when I was a kid—dive into hockey, learn all of the small parts, help me put them together into something that means I’m now playing the sport professionally. Then moving on to the next subject that interests him—car engines and geocaching, painting and rowing.

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