Page 2 of Perfectly Leashed
“Just the leashes, cariño.” Luca’s lopsided grin rearranged the rhythm of Darcy’s pulse. He couldn’t understand how someone he’d just met had cast some kind of spell over him.
Handing over the leashes, Darcy tore his eyes away from Luca’s. “Careful. You got a squirrel fanatic, a leash-tying expert, and a set of sharp teeth that likes to make everything a chew toy.” He chucked a thumb at Jimbo. “And he needs to learn to stop going along with the chaos.”
Luca untangled the leashes like he and Princess Consuela were kindred spirits. Darcy had never seen anyone unravel knots so fast. “You’re dealing with a pack of dogs, Darcy.”
“Okay, Captain Obvious. Thanks for clearing that up for me. I thought they were wild buffalo.” Did he think Darcy was dim-witted?
His mouth twitched at the corner, dark gray eyes sparkling in the early-morning sun. “You have to be their leader, or you’ll never get the buffalo to respect you.”
Oh, Darcy liked his sense of humor. A lot of people got pissed at his directness, but Luca seemed to find it funny. Nice.
“If you hadn’t noticed, I was leading them.” Wherever they wanted to pull me.
“You’re gripping those leashes like you’re expecting a mutiny.”
Darcy raised an eyebrow. “It’s less mutiny, more full-scale rebellion. I’ve tried treats, lectures, and even bribery, but nothing seems to work.”
“You tried to bribe dogs?” Luca looked at him like Darcy needed his head examined.
“Right? Meatball refused to take the five bucks.” His lips twitched at the puzzled look on Luca’s face. “I think he’s sweet on Consuela. But I draw the line at being a doggy pimp.”
His quick, crooked grin pulled Darcy’s entire focus toward him. “Might make cute puppies.”
Sweet hell. Darcy felt his face catch fire, making him glance down at Meatball, who was watching them with his tongue hanging out and to the side.
Swear to god the pit bull looked hopeful.
“It’s your energy.” Luca guided Meatball back in formation with nothing more than a click of his tongue. “They sense your tension, and if they can’t trust you’ve got their backs, they’ll just look at you as another member of their pack, not the leader.”
“My energy’s usually spent figuring out survival strategies. Don’t get dragged, don’t lose limbs, definitely don’t murder bystanders.”
“Good strategy.” Luca nodded. “If you weren’t walking dogs.”
Luca laughed, a rough, easy sound that curled warm in Darcy’s chest. “You’re funny.”
“And you’re suspiciously good at this,” Darcy countered, eyes narrowed playfully. “Dog whisperer or something?”
“Something like that.” Luca tilted his head, eyes glinting oddly in the morning sun. A subtle edge lingered under his smile—just enough danger to spike Darcy’s pulse.
Okay, so now he was picturing Luca in leather, astride a motorcycle, calling him sweetheart. Damn his traitorous imagination.
“So…” Darcy cleared his throat, cheeks flushing beneath freckles he’d hated since middle school. “How long did it take you to master...energy management?”
Luca shrugged, casual enough, but his gray eyes tracked every restless shift Darcy made. “Learned young. I grew up around packs.”
Darcy arched a brow, his curiosity kicking into overdrive. “Packs, huh? As in biker packs, wolf packs, six-pack abs?”
A deep laugh broke free from Luca’s chest, genuine and pleased. “Definitely bikers. Abs, occasionally.”
Darcy grinned despite his pulse tripping faster. “Explains the vibe.”
“Vibe?” Luca’s voice turned huskier. “And what kind of vibe am I giving off, exactly?”
Darcy’s tongue froze briefly. Shit. How much flirting was too obvious before coffee?
“Oh, you know.” He gestured vaguely. “Calm, controlled...could-easily-kick-my-ass-but-would-look-good-doing-it?”
His chuckle slid smoothly into Darcy’s bones. “Not into ass-kicking. At least not before breakfast.”
