Page 45 of Chalk Outline

He smirks and makes a signal with his hand.

A gorgeous black Cane Corso sprints into the backyard, joyfully lapping it up and flapping his ears in happiness and satisfaction before he runs to sniff at my legs.

“No way. I think my heart just leaped out of my chest from excitement.” I squeal.

He’s big and muscular, with a strong and intimidating stance, but he has the goofiest face I’ve ever seen. He’s so adorable. His curiosity shines in his big brown eyes.

I crouch down, and he swipes his tongue across my cheek.

Another animal that marks me as his.

I look up and catch my bodyguard’s stolen glance before he looks away.

“Aww, you are so cute.” I rub the dog’s fur and scratch behind his ears. “What is your name?”

“Titan. He is fully trained. But we’ll work with him together,” he says, amused as ever. He must be so proud of himself. “I saw an opportunity, so I took it,” he adds.

I giggle as Titan trots in the other direction, disappearing around the corner.

I guess it’s time to explore.

Shaking my head, I laugh to myself. The man just found a loophole to be present, whether he stays or not. “You will do anything to make guys run the other way when they see me.”

“I will do anything to protect you,” he corrects, raking me with his eyes as I straighten up.

“Promise?” I advance in his direction.

He nods, gazing down at me. The tension he harbors in those blue eyes is unparalleled.

How can such a simple act mesmerize me?

“I have a present for you, too,” I say with a grin as I grab his hand—the one with the scar on his palm—and pull him into the house. Anxious but eager to show him the moth I sketched for him. With his birthday coming up, I want to do something special, like getting matching shirts with my design.

We share a weird, mutual fondness for moths. I like drawing them, and he’s drawn to them—even his phone’s screensaver features a large moth.

He leans against the doorframe with all his might. Glorious as usual.

“Come here,” I urge, walking to my desk before I turn to face him.

He sighs and slowly, step by step, closes the gap between us until he towers over me. His eyes sweep across my desk, pausing on Grandma’s lighter, the one with a moth—I knew he liked them.

“Where did you get this from?” he asks, furrowing his brows.

“Grandma.”

He examines it a bit longer before turning his attention to me. “What did you want to show me?”

I pick up my sketchbook, open it roughly in the middle, and hand it to him. With his intense eyes still fixed on me, he takes it and slowly drops his gaze to the design I made for him. Something in his expression shifts — a mix of calmness and wonder. His features soften and brighten as he offers a beautiful smile.

“Do you like it?” I ask sheepishly. “I was thinking of making a T-shirt with this design for your birthday. If you want.”

He nods. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

I exhale a breath of relief. “What color T-shirt do you want?”

“Either black or white is fine.”

A wide grin captures my entire face. “Okay.”