Page 68 of Never Kiss the Bad Boy

“Light’s good. Let me grab the wire and I’ll fix the fence too,” Kyle tells Maggie. To me, he offers, “Wanna meet the rest of the dogs?”

Maggie takes the two puppies from me, throwing Kyle a quick nod, which feels like a stamp of approval. As much as I tested Kyle, I recognize him doing it right back. As we walk to the yard, I ask, “So, did I pass the test?”

He ducks his head, looking up at me through a flop of his hair. “I didn’t consciously mean for this to be a test. I needed to get the pups and wanted to spend more time with you. And who wouldn’t want to spend the day with puppies?” He spreads his arms out innocently but admits, “But yeah, it most definitely was a test. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize for that. Maggie’s important to you, and you value her judgment. But you’re making me nervous by not answering the question. Did I pass or fail?” I grin, already knowing the answer but wanting him to say it. Not because I need head pats and reassurance, but because it feels like a big deal for us both.

He pauses at the gate, his eyes steady on mine. “You’re getting closer and deeper to the ugly stuff inside me, and I’m scared shitless you’re gonna come to your senses and realize I’m not one of the strays worth your time and effort. After all, nobody else has ever thought I was. Until Maggie.”

He doesn’t give me a chance to respond, instead leaving me shocked with my jaw hanging wide as he opens the gate. I let him pull me inside, and he closes it behind us with a clang of metal as we’re immediately swarmed by dogs of all sizes. They greet us with sniffs and licks for a second, and I hold my hands out, letting them get used to me, but also blocking them from getting too close because Peanut Butter’s not the only one with an affinity for crotch sniffing.

They pretty quickly lose interest in me, though, because they’re bouncing around Kyle like they’re waiting for his command. He finds the spot in the fence that needs attention and does some quick wire-tying trick to secure it before handing me the roll of wire. “Watch this,” he says, and then louder, he shouts, “Let’s go, dogs!”

He takes off, running fast with dogs on his left and right and on his heels. In a blink, there are some in front of him too and he’s in the middle of the pack.

Bark! Bark! Bark!

It’s chaos in its most fun form as he runs for the side fence, then makes a sharp turn, heading along the back fence to make a loop. Meanwhile, I’m laughing wildly at Kyle’s interactions with the dogs as he reaches out and touches one on the head, then another. “Boop, you’re out. Boop, you too. I’m winning!”

He gives it his best, but two legs are never gonna be faster than four, and soon, he’s panting and slowing down. The dogs do too, choosing staying at his side over winning, which I think they could easily do. Kyle jogs back toward me in the middle of the yard, and I can feel the huge smile on my face. “You’re a wild man,” I tell him, and he beams before letting loose a howl more reminiscent of a wolf than a dog. But the dogs join in anyway, accepting him as a member of their pack.

I don’t know what happens, but suddenly, Kyle is stumbling over his feet or the dogs’ paws, I’m not sure which. He pitches forward, stumbling and fumbling to catch himself, but in the end, he goes tumbling to the grass. He tucks and rolls and is quickly swallowed up by a pile of dogs who seem to think this is a new addition to the running game.

“No! Get offa me, Miles! Move, Gonzo! Stop licking inside my mouth!” Kyle spits that last bit out along with some dog fur, but despite the friendly attack, he’s laughing at the dogs as he pushes them away and tries to get to his hands and knees to stand up.

“Do you need help?” I ask, not sure if it’s safe for me to join the melee after Maggie’s warning.

A sharp whistle sounds out and all of us—me, Kyle, and the dogs—straighten right up and turn toward the sound. It’s Maggie, of course, managing her pack, even the non-canine members.

Kyle’s arm reaches up through the pile of dogs still covering him, throwing her a thumbs-up of appreciation. “Thanks, Mags!” Once they settle down at her warning whistle, he can finally get up.

I’m laughing at the whole thing until I see his face, and then my smile instantly falls. “Ooh, you’ve got a pretty good scratch on your cheek.” I touch his face gently, testing it, but he doesn’t wince like he’s in pain even as blood starts to ooze slowly and thickly. “We should clean that up, make sure you didn’t get dog spit in it or something worse.”

He balks, even as he walks toward the house. “Takes more than a little dirt to get me down,” he says, acting tough, but he does go inside. I hope it’s to do a quick soap and water wash of his face.

When he comes back, I’m glad to see the tell-tale orange splash of iodine on his cheek, and he strikes a pose worthy of Zoolander, making Maggie and me both laugh. “Amps up my bad boy look a little, don’tcha think?”

I won’t tell him that it actually does because I don’t think his ego needs any more boosting, but the fact that the scratch makes him look a little extra rough partnered with his getting it by roughhousing with beloved dogs is a deadly combo for any doubts I might still have.

Maggie ignores his question too, instead continuing our goodbyes that started when Kyle went inside. “It was really nice to meet you, Dani. Remember what I said about that boy, though—he’s good, even if he doesn’t always like to show it.” I nod, and she turns her attention to Kyle. “Thanks for getting the pups for me. Whiskey already fed the little guy while you were playing WrestleMania in the yard, so I think I’ll try to sneak another in for the next round.”

“Good, glad that at least one of the pups was fed successfully, and hopefully, the other three will go well too.” He glances to the yard, calling out, “Peanut Butter!” The dog’s tan head pops up from a group of dogs still wrestling and playing. “Come on, we’ve got to get home. Dani and I have plans.”

“Oh, you do?” Maggie says politely. “What else are you up to today?”

He doesn’t say it outright, but Kyle gives Maggie a comically large wink and she grins, catching on quick. “Well, you two have fun, then. I remember those days.”

“Kyle!” If I knew his full government name, I’d use it—middle name and all—but since I don’t, I put the entirety of my ‘what the fuck’ into the one drawn-out syllable of his first name before rushing to explain to Maggie, “He’s kidding.”

The way she’s pressing her lips together and fighting a smile says she doesn’t believe that at all.

Kyle opens the passenger door, both front and back, so that Peanut Butter can hop in and I can climb in too. I cross my arms over my chest, spitting fire at Kyle with my eyes as he walks around the front of the truck. When he gets in, I lay into him fast and hard. “I cannot believe you said that! Maggie is so sweet and you’re like, ‘gotta go fuck, bye,’ as if that’s a perfectly normal thing to do.”

He has the unmitigated audacity to flash that cocky smirk of his. “Technically, I didn’t say anything. I winked. And Maggie’s chill. She doesn’t care about my dick, though she does seem particularly concerned about my heart and the damage you might do to it.”

“Well, I told her I wouldn’t hurt your heart. Your dick, on the other hand? It’s heading for dangerous territory.”

He takes his eyes off the road long enough to give me a heated look, which I return, but it’s not the same kind of heat. Mine threatens body dismemberment. His promises bodily bliss.

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