Page 48 of The One Night Match
She must see the lust staring back at her when her eyes open and lock on mine, so she busies herself with her pancakes.
As much as I want to give her all the space she needs, I’m starting to realize the only way to make Riley see how serious I am about making our marriage work is if I keep her on her toes.
TWENTY-FIVE
RILEY
“What the fuck is that?” Cruz asks, his eyes locked on the ball of fluff in my arms.
I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from giggling. When Lexi mentioned this being the next phase of Operation Divorce, I knew it could go one of two ways, but I couldn’t help myself.
Unfortunately for me, I don’t get to keep the little guy I’m holding. One, because it’s Lexi’s friend’s dog, and two, because I don’t think Mr. Whiskers would appreciate a friend when he’s still getting used to me. But Cruz doesn’t need to know that.
“This is Kevin,” I beam. “Isn’t he so cute?”
“Cute?” Cruz mutters. “It looks like you put its fur through a shredder.”
I cough to smother the laugh that bursts from my chest, because that’s a pretty accurate description of the Chinese Crested breed as a whole. “That’s part of his charm!” I argue.
Cruz reaches for his tie and loosens it, making my core clench at the sight. There’s something about a man taking off a tie that gets me, and that’s only more the case with my husband. It’s the way his tattoos peek out the top of his collar when he unbuttons the top few buttons that makes it hard to think.
“Where did Kevin come from?”
“The pound,” I lie.
“And how long is Kevin staying?”
“Forever.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “Absolutely not.”
I pout. “You want me to take him back to the pound? What if no one adopts him!”
He sighs and brushes his hand down his face. “Asshole will eat that thing alive.”
“Mr. Whiskers…” I correct him with a glare. “Is a sweet boy who would do no such thing.”
“I’ve seen him beat up a Great Dane. I promise Kevin doesn’t stand a chance against that orange ball of evil.”
I huff out a sigh. “They’ll get used to each other! We’ll introduce them slowly.”
“No.”
“Cruz,” I whine.
He shoves the sleeves of his shirt up his tattooed arms, and I start to wonder which of us is closer to losing this argument, because the more he undresses without actually removing any clothing, the more I need a cold shower.
“Riley, we’re not keeping that dog.”
One of the few useful things I learned as a child growing up in the Mafia is how to cry on demand. Technically, it’s meant to be used if I’m ever kidnapped, a way to make my captor feel sorry for me and see me as a weak little girl until I can execute one of the many escape plans that have been drilled into me my whole life, but it’ll come in handy now.
My bottom lip wobbles as tears well in my eyes, and I watch as panic shoots across Cruz’s face. If there’s one thing men universally don’t know how to deal with, it’s a crying woman.
I bury my face in Kevin’s rough skin, allowing tears to fall into his fur. He nuzzles into my throat at the same time a rough sob tears from my chest.
“Fuck.” Cruz rushes toward me. “I’m sorry. Please don’t cry. You can keep the dog.”
“I…can?” I sniffle.
