Page 62 of Infinite

I chuckle. “Dogs?” I ask. “I’m only offering Samson the Mighty here a place to live.”

She lifts her head. “Hale,” she says, her smile content. “You can’t keep these two apart. Not after what they went through.”

My fingers thread through her hair and I pull her closer for another kiss, passing my lips over hers so tenderly I barely feel them skim over mine. “You’re right,” I say, my voice as soft as my gaze as it melts into hers. “Some souls were always meant to be together.”

Chapter Fourteen

Hale

I woke up smiling today. My business is in ruins. I have the feds trying to make a case out of shit that ain’t there. Oh, and Sean has some kind of rash on his ass he was more than happy to go into detail about. Again. I can’t help my smile and it’s all due to Becca.

From the foot of the bed, two dogs wag their tails at me. “Y’all ready to go out?”

More tail wagging followed by an excited sneeze from Sam. Becca decided to name her dog Rosie, ’cause that’s how the little thing makes her feel. Personally, I think she should have left it Anarchy, but that’s me.

I pull on a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved gray shirt, stretching as I walk toward the bathroom and, yeah, thinking about Becca. It was after midnight when she made it back to Charlotte. We talked on the phone as she drove, laughing about things I haven’t thought about in years and talking about making more memories. It was a sweet call. Almost as sweet as our kisses on the terrace and the one I gave her before she slipped into her car.

Yesterday, we didn’t speak as much. She had meetings to attend and a shit ton of people to placate. But she still called and I still heard her voice and her laughter. It’s enough for now, but I’m still counting the minutes until she returns.

I open the sliding doors that lead out to the beach, allowing the dogs to race ahead of me. I get a good stretch in and start my run, kicking up sand and sending it to ghost in the air. The dogs chase after me, jumping up to play before falling into a steady pace beside me. I don’t know if there’s a leash law or a license these dogs are supposed to wear around their necks. I’m not even entirely sure they won’t run away. But they seem smart enough to stay beside me.

I chuckle as I run. From the day we returned to Kiawah, I started moving full speed ahead with Becca. I haven’t been down here ten days and here we are, making out like real lovers should, adopting dogs, and talking about having a future together. I won’t complain, although at times, it feels too good to be true.

The dogs and I are out of breath when we decide to turn around to head back. Sam keeps up just fine, but the run was too much for Rosie’s little legs. I scoop her up, carrying her all the way back to the house.

I feed them more chicken and fill the Tupperware bowls I scrounged up with more water. I’m just starting on making breakfast when the phone rings and Becca’s face lights up the screen.

I answer the phone and turn up the volume. “Well, hey,” I say.

“Good morning, baby,” she says.

“Mornin’,” I reply. “You all right? You seem tired.”

“I was up late,” she says. “How’re Sam and my precious Rosie doing?”

“They’re missing their momma,” I say.

She laughs. “I miss them, too. They’re cute. Oh, how did we end up with them again?”

“We really didn’t. We were actually accused of kidnapping.”

She pauses. “Are you serious?”

“Yup. Turns out you’re a wanted woman, Becca. Miss Silvie was out with Trin and the grandbabies all day yesterday. She didn’t get your message until late and had to track down the shelter owner to assure her that, no, we hadn’t eaten the big one and sent the little one to kick ass in the dog fighting ring.”

“Oh, no. What a mess!”

“Expect wanted posters with your face on them upon your return.”

She laughs. “Just make sure it’s one of my windblown shots. Those are my favorite.”

“They’re mine, too,” I murmur. “But them nudies are a close second.”

“Mm,” she groans. “I wish I was there with you.”

“Same,” I say. I toss Sam a slice of bacon he’s more than happy to catch. The little one shuffles over to me, evidently still tired, but not too tired to scratch at my ankle and remind me I forgot to feed her. I hand her a strip, watching her floppy ears bounce as she returns to her spot on the floor.

“When are you headed back?” I ask. I wash my hands and pop in a piece of bread into the toaster, pausing when Becca doesn’t answer right away.

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