Page 8 of Arsonist’s Match (Blaze and Badge #1)

Excitement overwhelmed the black and white furball when Athena bent down to pet her, her tongue slathering Athena’s hand in appreciation.

Flash had explained that, while Snuffles had passed her first birthday, because they lived longer than large dogs, she would remain a puppy until she was two—even if she wouldn’t grow anymore.

All at once, Snuffles lunged toward Athena’s face, white tail and pink tongue wagging.

Athena stretched out of reach and continued into her apartment, pulling off her heels, allowing her feet some blessed relief.

The dog had developed a new fascination with licking noses, and Athena didn’t care for having her nose licked—especially since she hadn’t washed off her makeup and didn’t know if it would make Snuffles sick.

“No licking noses,” she chided. “If anything was to happen to you while Flash is away, that would be it; I might as well board the next plane for Timbuktu, because your mother would kill me.”

Athena’s shadow trotted behind her to the bedroom, her feet a light “tippy-tap, tippy-tap” on the fake hardwood floor. “Yes, I’m sure you’d prefer the big house with the big yard, but I can’t fathom going there without Flash, who should be home any day now.”

Snuffles sprang on the bed to be closer to Athena’s level while she changed clothes and stared at her longingly, occasionally licking her lips. In shorts and a T-shirt, Athena sighed. “I know; I’m supposed to take you for walks.”

“Arf, arf, arf!” The dog flew off the bed like a furry trapeze artist shot from a cannon and raced for the door. When Athena wasn’t instantly there, she spun around barking, hopping with all four feet springing up and down in unison.

“All right, I’m coming,” Athena groaned. “Why do you have to be smart enough to understand people words?”

Snuffles replied with one more, “Arf,” before sitting nicely to have her leash and collar attached.

It was a pleasant night for a walk, and Athena had actually met other people from her building, pet owners who also walked their dogs in the mornings and evenings.

Out here, with a canine at the end of a leash, they weren’t doctors, engineers, executives, or law enforcement officers; they were dog people, a particularly friendly breed.

Athena found it odd, yet relaxing, to chat about training methods and preferred treat brands.

With Snuffles’ legs properly stretched and doggie socialization completed, Athena took her back up the elevator. Snuffles waited patiently for her bedtime treat before grabbing the chew between her tiny teeth and jumping onto the bed with it.

Athena smiled at her text message from Flash. Sometimes she called, but, if she thought it was too late for Athena to be up, she’d send a text message.

When I was a kid, I wanted to try skydiving. Of course, Mom and Dad said no. So, little daredevil me took a bedsheet up on the roof, grabbed the four corners, and jumped. Just knocked the wind out of me but taught me to wait until I had a real parachute. Love you lots!

Upon first deciding to give their relationship a try, Flash and Athena had shared one thing about themselves with the other every day, without fail. This revelation didn’t surprise Athena a bit. After a moment’s pondering, Athena typed a reply.

When I was thirteen, I sat down at the piano in front of a stuffy audience of important people to play the Moonlight Sonata at my class’s recital.

Despite practicing it for months, I drew a total blank and couldn’t get past the first line.

My parents were so embarrassed. Today, if I sat at a piano, I’ll bet I could play it without missing a note. Love you more!

Athena stared at her phone for five minutes while Snuffles finished her treat. Flash didn’t text back. She’s probably tired, could be in the shower, might be asleep. At least I know she’s safe.

After brushing her teeth, washing and moisturizing her face, and finishing all bathroom-related business, Athena climbed into bed, arranged her pillows, took one last glance at her phone, and turned out the light.

The next thing she knew, a warm, furry animal was digging a nest in her pillow right beside her head.

“No, Snuffles,” she scolded. “You sleep at the foot. You should be happy I even allow you to share my bed.” A stream of moonlight reflected off two sad eyes.

“I can’t help it if Flash spoils you; you may not sleep on my head.

” The puppy plopped her chin between her paws, guilt-tripping Athena with a mournful gaze.

Athena sat up, lifted Snuffles, and moved her beside her feet. “Look, you, it isn’t fair,” she explained. “What if I fall for you, and Flash leaves me? That’s double heartbreak, furball. Now, stay at the foot where it’s safe—for both our hearts.”

Settling back into her position, Athena closed her eyes, praying Flash wasn’t trying to let her down gently. When her alarm clock sounded at 6:30, Snuffles lay curled up on her pillow, nestled against her head, as if they were two peas in a pod.