Page 39 of Double Pucked

“That is officially the coolest thing I’ve ever seen,” I say as I trot over to the pair.

“And my sister said I could never do it,” Trina says proudly, a little defiantly.

“Let me guess. Big sister?”

“Yup,” Trina says, then reaches into a pocket of her jeans and hands Nacho a dog treat. He chows down while a serious-looking dog trainer type pushes open the faraway gate, escorting a pair of Border Collies into the park. “It’s peanut butter. His favorite,” she adds.

“Mine too,” I say.

“Aww. Want a dog biscuit, Chase? You’ll have to jump through a hoop though,” she teases.

Ah, that’s an opening to the big thing on my mind, and I shouldn’t take it, but impulsively, I answer with, “We already cleared the orgasm hoop.”

I’m testing the waters probably sooner than I should, even though the other part of theusisn’t here. Ryker said he had to run some errands.

“With flying colors,” Trina says, then tilts her face, looking at me with curious green eyes, maybe waiting for me to say more.

I want to. God, how I want to. But I’ve got to play it safe, since I don’t know what Ryker wants. This morning, he took off ten minutes after Trina, saying he needed to let the contractors into his home. I haven’t seen him all day, so I don’t have a stinking clue if he’s been thinking nonstop about Trina too.

Just like I have.

Trouble is, I don’t want to have the “I can’t stop thinking about getting you naked again” talk withherwithout talking tohimfirst. Pact and all. What if he’s not thinking about her the same way? Maybe she’s out of his system, and then where does that leave me? Confused. I’m not normally confused after one-night stands.

This isn’t a one-night stand you dumbass. She’s now living with you.

But what the hellisthis?

My only choice for now is to skate around the problem, focusing on the dog in her arms. I scratch him under the chin and he leans forward and swipes his tongue across my face.

I grin like a fool. “That’s it. It’s official. He marked me, and I’m going to have to be his dog babysitter for the rest of time.”

With a laugh, Trina sets her hand on my cheek, wiping off the remnants of dog kiss. I let out a low rumble, meeting her gaze for a few delicious seconds that makes me want to haul her over my shoulder once more.

A shuddery breath seems to ghost across her lips, then she shakes it off. “I’m glad you like your temporary roommate,” Trina says, petting Nacho too. The little dude pants harder. “I think he’s tired though.”

I glance toward the gate. “Can I walk him on the way back?” I ask, sounding like an eager kid. And I kind of am.

“Sure. What’s the deal with you and dogs? You’re kind of obsessed. Like more than I am,” she says as we leave the park and she hands me his leash.

I sure am, and there’s one reason for it. I take the leash, keeping a tight grip on my new buddy, who takes the lead on the sidewalk. “My dad was a veterinarian. He loved all animals, but especially dogs, so we always had them growing up. But our last dog passed away shortly before my dad did.”

Trina looks my way with gentle eyes. “I’m sorry about your dad, Chase,” she says, sympathy flooding her tone. “That must have been so hard on you. And on your mom.”

“Yeah, it was,” I say, downplaying that terrible year, the damage to my heart, the way I changed. The way Ihadto change. “And after, she decided not to get another dog. She was too busy with my little brothers and raising them solo.”

“A dog would’ve just been more work for her, she probably figured, and she was probably grieving still, adjusting to a new life she never expected,” Trina says thoughtfully, understanding my family just like that.

Maybe that’s why it’s easy for me to keep talking when I don’t usually get into the nitty-gritty. “When I was younger, my dad and I would go on long walks together in the evening with Bandit, and I’d tell him about school and the team and practices, and well, just life and stuff while Bandit trotted ahead of us, sniffing everything. I liked those times.”

“I can tell. That’s a nice memory,” she says with obvious affection as we stroll past a thrift store with boxy army jackets in the window.

I let the fond memories roll past me for another few seconds, then say, “He was a cool one. Part Border Collie, part cheetah. Fastest dog ever. Dad loved him too and he kept us busy.”

“Sounds like you two had a lot of fun with him and got to spend some good times togetherbecauseof him,” she says as we turn onto California Street while twilight wraps its arms around the city.

“Yeah. We did. Someday, it’d be nice to have another Bandit, or a Nacho,” I say, wistful, then I shake that off too. “But it’s hard to have a dog since I’m on the road so much. That’s why I still try to volunteer as much as I can. It’s important to me, and it was to my dad too,” I say, and wow. Do I sound like I’m tooting my own horn or what? I shift my focus to her. “Why does your sister think you can’t handle a dog?”

Trina sighs, a little resigned. “She thinks I can’t handle anything. Like, say, life. But maybe she’s not wrong. I mean, I’ve lived in three places in the last month. My douchey ex’s, my bestie’s couch, and now with a guy I met…um, last night,” she says with a wince. “She might be right.”

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