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His badass tattoos.
And his filthy mouth.
Especially his filthy mouth.
I’d always been turned off by men who thought dirty talk would impress me.
Dereck Hamilton, aka Professor Hamilton, had tried it once. He’d failed epically, but he’d taken his shot.
He’d smacked my ass with his perfectly manicured hand and told me he wanted to fuck me.
It was a hard no.
And by hard, I wasn’t referring to the professor’s penis. He took a while to warm up, and then once he was ready, everything was fast and uneventful on my end.
But River Pierce was a whole different story.
The man got me going the minute I saw him, and the bastard took me to euphoria on steroids in less than sixty seconds. Hell, I couldn’t even get myself there that quickly.
I hadn’t seen him since I left his office a few days ago, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I was disappointed every day that he didn’t stop by the bar.
I’d never been big on flirty banter, but everything was different with him.
I walked the short distance to the Golden Goose because Demi and Peyton had me on some sort of group text that they’d added Saylor Woodson to, and we were meeting for lunch.
I pulled the door open to the diner, and when Midge looked up, I saw the panic when her gaze locked with mine.
Apparently, the dog-snatching devil had a conscience, and I was a reminder of what she’d done.
I raised a brow. “Midge.”
“Ruby,” she said, grabbing a menu. “The others are already here. They said they were expecting you.”
“I heard you got a new dog,” I said from behind her because when I’d gone to the Daily Market yesterday, Oscar had told me his dog was missing, and he was certain Midge had snatched him, as she lived two houses down from him.
“I have a rescue dog,” she snapped over her shoulder.
When she paused in front of the table, Demi, Peyton, and Saylor all stopped talking at the same time and looked up at her.
“It’s interesting that Oscar’s dog, Boone, went missing, and you suddenly have a rescue dog that’s the same breed as his? Does this not strike you as a bit too coincidental?”
She cleared her throat. “My dog was sitting on my front porch when I came home. He claimed me.”
“Or you lured him into your yard with beef sticks.” I raised a brow. “Just know that Oscar is pursuing legal action. It’s a felony to steal someone’s dog. And Boone has a chip in him, so if animal control comes to your house and checks the chip on that dog and it’s Boone, you’re going away for a very long time, Midge.”
This was complete bullshit. Oscar hadn’t considered legal action as far as I knew, and I highly doubted Boone was microchipped, but the look on her face was priceless.
If Casper had a cousin, her name would be Midge Longhorn, dog snatcher extraordinaire.
All the color had left her face.
The three women at the table were looking back and forth between us, and I was enjoying myself.
Stealing someone’s fur baby was evil. I wasn’t going to stand for it.
“Is that so?” She lifted her chin.
I leaned forward. “You do know that you can just go to the pound and adopt a dog, right? So do the right thing. Put Boone back in his yard and go get your own damn dog.”
