Page 28 of Dolls & Daggers
Did I say that out loud?
She pulls back slightly, gaze drifting downward.
To my lap.
Where I’m hard as granite, seconds from pulling her onto me, despite the open door and the very real risk of someone walking by and seeing us.
“I don’t think Junior here gets the memo.”
Two hours later,I’m pacing the downstairs lobby, checking my watch every few seconds. I called the groomer earlier to ask when Fang would be ready—apparently, they bring him back to Dove. Talk about good customer service. That gives me the perfectopportunity to intercept them and return him to his mother myself.
“You must be Wrenley!” a chipper voice calls from behind me.
I turn, and the sight that greets me feels like a punch to the gut. Fang’s once-pristine white fur isn’tjustpink—it’s an explosion of color. His head, ears, paws, and tail are dyed in bright swirls of pink, purple, green, yellow, and orange. The poor rat looks like he was dragged straight out of a ‘90s rainbow art fever dream.
“Oh, fuck. She’s going to kill me.”
The girl freezes, eyeing me suspiciously.
“Sorry,” I recover quickly. “Yes, hi. I’m Wrenley. Come here, little dude.”
Fang wriggles furiously, his little tail wagging like a propeller as he squirms free of her grasp and launches himself at me.
I don’t know what I did to deserve his approval, but I’m grateful for it at this particular moment.
The girl’s frown melts into a smile. “You know, Dove’s been bringing Fang in since he was a pup. She’s never asked for creative coloring, so we went with a semi-permanent dye—just in case.”
“I don’t know what any of that means, but I trust your judgment. Thanks again for your discretion.”
Fang licks my cheek, stretching his tiny neck as ifhe can’t get close enough. I’ve never wanted a pet before, but I can’t deny that the warm familiarity of the rat’s affection makes me think it wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
As I step off on our floor, Joe catches another elevator. His eyes widen comically when he sees Fang, and just before the doors close, he asks, utterly deadpan, “Oh, Wrenley. What did you do?”
“About to get myself into a whole lot of trouble,” I mutter, heading for Dove’s office.
The tension between us earlier while reviewing my article had been thick enough to cut with a knife. Now, standing outside her door with this damn neon-colored dog in my arms, I regret every decision that led me here.
What we’ve been doing so far? Foreplay.
But this?Thisis the start of a war.
I attempt to tuck Fang inside my suit jacket, but the closer we get, the more determined he is to pop his head out. I hear Dove’s voice drifting through the hall, bright and bubbly as she laughs about something that happened at a restaurant during a work lunch.
Her gaze meets mine briefly when I step inside and immediately turn to shut the door behind me. The office walls are almost soundproof—but not quite. And I have a feeling they’ll be tested in the next few seconds.
“I have to call you back,” she says slowly.
I hear the soft click of the phone settling into the cradle of the receiver and I inhale deeply before turning around.
Fang yips, scrambling to free himself from my arms and into hers. I brace for impact—for the explosion of fiery, razor-sharp words I know she’s about to unleash.
I expect her to yell.
I expect her to tear me apart, her pretty pink lips forming the kind of scathing retort that’ll haunt me for weeks.
I expect her to make me think of that angry little chick meme—because she’s so short and I’m constantly reminded of it when we stand next to each other.
What Idon’texpect is for her eyes to go glassy as she reaches for her dog, cradling him to her chest like he’s been wounded.
