Page 4 of Dashing for Love

“How’s Sammie?” I ask Carmen about her schnauzer as I hand her a slice.

She beams. “He’s great! Much better now that I’ve got him on that special food.”

“Not feeding him leftovers from the restaurant is probably helping,” I say with a grin.

After we demolish the cake, Carmen comes back with a round of tequila shots. Reid begs off, so I drink his. I only turn thirty once, right?

I might have another shot—things get a little fuzzy after a bit.

Is Goldie looking at me a little longer than usual?

Nah. That’s wishful thinking.

Wait. Wishful? No. More like suicidal, because honestly, now that Willa’s dating a cop, she could just ask for him to have me offed. The guywasundercover with a drug cartel, after all. He knows things. Techniques.

I snort. I’mdrunk.

“Um, yeah, you are, big guy,” Willa laughs.

I swivel my head to her. “Yup.”

“I think that’s our cue,” Willa says, standing and waving for me to do the same. “Let’s get you home.”

“I’ll drive,” Reid says. “Allof you.”

Goldie makes a face. “I’m fine.”

“I’m a cop, Goldie. Do you really think I’m going to let you drive buzzed?” Reid gives her a look that might make a lesser person shrink.

Goldie is definitely not that person. Giggling, she concedes. “You’re right. Also, you’re funny when you’re growly.”

He grins at her indulgently. “Okay, buzzed girl. Let’s go.”

Goldie and I climb into the back of Reid’s F-150 and Willa takes the front. She turns to us as Reid pulls onto the road. “Goldie first, then you, yeah?”

I nod. At least, I think I do.

“Ooh, turn it up!” Goldie commands.

It’sOpen Armsby Journey. “Really?” Reid sighs.

Willa turns it up, and Goldie proceeds to belt the chorus at the top of her lungs.

All I can do is laugh, because Goldie may have a lot of amazing qualities, but being a good singer is not one of them.

She pokes me in the side and grins maniacally. “Join in!”

I shrug and join in, and I’m positive that Reid breaks the speed limit to get us home faster.

By the time I’m letting myself into my house, I’ve sobered up about five percent. Kitty, my German Shepherd, and Spot, my calico cat, greet me like they always do. My other cat, a grouchy orange tabby named Crush, stares at me in silent judgment from his perch on top of the couch as I walk past.

I give him a salute. He blinks and looks away.

I let Kitty out and feed and water all three, then check in on Hedgie, my hedgehog. He’s ridiculously cute, and happily munches on the dinner I drop into his habitat.

A little later, I flop onto the couch and grab my laptop. My head is still pleasantly fuzzy, so it’s the perfect time to create a profile on the app I’ve seen way too many advertisements for.

Blinding Love.

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