To Die For - Davidson King Page 0,10

and I drove through the streets of Haven Hart, the chilly autumn breeze numbing my fingers, I found that I sort of wished I could take the helmet off and breathe in the scent of his leather jacket. I already knew the man smelled amazing. But I’d never been this close before, aside from earlier at the bar, but there were too many scents mingling around us then. I shook those thoughts off, quickly remembering I didn’t want to be another lay. I wouldn’t be that person anymore.

I obviously wasn’t paying attention, so when the motorcycle stopped and shut off, I looked around. We were in front of my building.

“Oh wow, that was quick.” I pulled off the helmet and handed it to him.

“Not many people out at this hour. It’s kind of nice.” Max smiled. His cheeks were red from the wind, and I felt like shit for taking his helmet.

“Your face is bright red.” It was on the tip of my tongue to invite him up, but I stopped myself.

“No big, just the chill of the air. I’ll be fine.” He jerked his head toward my building. “This is a nice place. You must make a decent living.”

Hearing him say that made my heart twist painfully. “I do fine.”

“Can I ask what it is you do exactly?”

There was no point lying or hiding what I did, so I pointed to Ashley’s Haven across the street. “I own that studio, I teach dance.”

Max stared at the building, a small smile playing on his face. “That totally makes sense.”

“It does?” I mean, I danced well at the club, but a lot of people were great dancers there, and I knew for a fact many had other jobs—they were accountants, doctors, lawyers.

“Something about you, I dunno, it just makes sense is all.” He shrugged and put the helmet on, lifting the visor so I could see his eyes. “See ya later, Sparkles.”

I was surprised he didn’t ask me why it was called Ashley’s Haven, but I was finding Max to be almost like an enigma. Maybe not who I thought he was after all.

“Yeah, see ya.” A snarky comment didn’t even cross my mind. And when he waved as he pulled away from the curb, I briefly regretted not inviting him up.

I’d just opened the door to my apartment when I heard it. Teeny, tiny clacking. It got faster, louder, and suddenly my leg was being attacked with pathetic nibbles and a half barking, half chirping noise.

“Oh, you have to be kidding me, Tank, I wasn’t gone that long.” Tank was a teacup poodle I’d adopted a few months ago. I went to the pound looking for some big scary guard dog I could take walks with, and he’d keep the creepy people away. But as soon as I stepped into the pound, there was this wee little black ball of fuzz sitting in a basket on the counter.

The woman said he was just brought in, found in the gutter. My heart broke, and my sudden need to get a guard dog reversed when I realized this little guy needed protection.

I didn’t expect the battle that ensued over him, but I was relentless, and with a sizable donation to the pound and a background check that would make the FBI proud, I was the owner of that wee little pup. Tank would never get bigger than my hand, but he was perfect for me. And as he gnawed on my pants pathetically, I realized he tried to be a guard dog.

“I paid five hundred dollars for these.” I lifted him into my hand, and he began licking my face. “Yes, yes, I missed you too. Were you a good boy?” He wagged his tail and a second later, he peed all over me. “Dammit.” I should’ve known better. When he got super excited, he peed. “It’s okay, little guy. Let’s take you out after I wash my hands.”

I quickly washed my hands, changed my shirt with the pee on it, put my coat on, and grabbed the leash. Snapping it to Tank’s collar, I went outside so he could relieve himself for the night. He smelled everything and of course, wouldn’t do his business.

“You know once we go upstairs, that’s it for the night. None of this ‘I need to pee’ in a few hours.”

Tank looked at me with his teeny tiny eyes, and I could practically read his mind. “You’re my bitch, Daddy, you’ll stand in the rain for me.”