Page 139 of Hit Me With Your Best Shot

His ridiculous fur mohawk bristles, and he stares me down with his wide, slightly unhinged eyes.

“Gio?” Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

I shift on my feet, suddenly overcome with the urge to wrap her in a hug and squish her.

“I was on my way home from the airport and I’m hungry, so…” I say, holding up my protein bar wrapper. “I thought I’d stop by.”

“You stopped by because you’re hungry?”

“No. I stopped by because I’m worried about you,” I say,stepping inside the apartment. It’s warm, cozy, andthe last time I was here we played strip Connect Four and I gave her a lap dance.

Good times I’d love to repeat.

“So?” I say, tossing the protein bar wrapper into the trash. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or are we going to play another round of ‘Austin avoids my questions while your dog waits for an opportunity to strike.’”

Austin laughs. “He’s not going to bite you.”

I’m not so sure about that.

I follow her into the living room, taking a seat on the couch.

She joins me—and instead of sitting on the other side like I expect her to—she lays, her head resting in my lap.

My hands go to her hair.

Her hair is soft under my fingers, and I start running them through it without thinking. It’s a habit by now—something I do when she’s stressed, even if she pretends she doesn’t need it. Gio trots over, leaps up onto the armrest, beady eyes locking on me.

Fine.

Whatever.

Austin sighs, and for a second, it feels like the whole world slows down.

She doesn’t say anything, just stares up at me with those wide, tired eyes. It’s enough to make me forget how much my left shoulder still aches from getting slammed into the boards last night and how hungry I am.

I ignore the growling in my stomach.

“How do you feel?” she asks, resting her head against the back of the couch.

“Glad we won. Glad to be back.” Her long lashes flutter at me. “Couple of highlight saves. No big deal.”

Her lips twitch. “No big deal? That’s the most humble thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“Don’t get used to it,” I say with a shrug. “I’m just saying, it’s not every day you stonewall their best shooter in a breakaway with five seconds left on the clock.”

“Ah, there it is,” she teases, smirking. “The humility was fun while it lasted.”

“Come on, admit it—you’re impressed.”

She rolls her eyes, but her smirk softens into a smile. “I’m always impressed. I’d be more impressed if you weren’t still scared of my dog.”

“That’s different,” I argue, pointing at Gio, who yaps in protest. “He wants to bite me, I can see it in his eyes.”

The dog’s ears twitch.

She shakes her head, a small, tired smile on her face.

I brush a few loose strands out of her face, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

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