Page 72 of To the Chase

I stood behind her at her door while she unlocked it, and when she asked me if I wanted to come in, I didn’t hesitate to accept.

I should have gone home, but I wasn’t ready to part from her.

Would I ever be?

I liked my alone time, but I could have that with her. Actually, that sounded more than enticing. A quiet room, a book, Bea by my side? Yes, I would enjoy that.

I looked around Bea’s living room, taking in her space. It was tidy in a near-fastidious way. The surfaces were bare except for a stack of books on her coffee table. She had colorful pillows on her couch arranged neatly in the corners and an afghan folded in a perfect rectangle. Above her couch was a black-and-white landscape photo of the Rockies, and there were a few other pieces of art scattered along the pale-gray walls.

I didn’t know exactly what I’d expected, but it wasn’t this calm, peaceful setting. Bea was a burst of color and action, but her home was serene and restful. I could easily spend time here.

A gray ball of fur barreled into the room from nowhere, toenails scrambling on the hardwood as he made a dismal attempt to stop himself from crashing into us. Heruffedand snorted, throwing his entire body weight into Bea’s shins. Laughing, she stumbled into me, and I caught her by the elbow, keeping her upright as she teetered on her heels.

“Hi, big boy,” she said, leaning down to scratch his massive head. “We weren’t gone that long.”

The second I stepped out from behind Bea, the dog turned his attention to me. His nose twitched and eyebrows wobbled as he looked me over, sniffing the air around me. Once satisfied, he sat with a thump and stared up at me expectantly.

“I don’t have anything for you.” I opened my hands, showing him they were empty.

His tail happily swept the ground.

Bea took my hand to steady herself as she kicked off her shoes. “Just scratch his head and he’ll love you forever. He’s a simple guy.”

My fingers flexed. “I haven’t been around many dogs.”

“I think you can handle it, Salvatore.” She gave my hand a tug. “You protect all the computers in the state—”

“That isn’t actually what Nox does.”

Shehmphed.“Like I said, you protect all the computers in the state, so I think you can handle my sweet dog. He doesn’t bite, and he’s very polite about not licking strangers.”

Sensing this was probably a deal-breaker, I reached out and gave Benjamin a perfunctory pat on the head. One and done.

Except he leaned into it, and I had to admit, he wasn’t unpleasant to touch. His short fur was almost velvety.

“He’s soft,” I murmured.

“Right?” Bea leaned into me the way her dog had. “I think he likes you too.”

Skeptical, I looked down at him. He peered back, and I almost swore he was smiling. I had seen him from afar and been fairly neutral, but up close, he was…cute. I saw the appeal.

Then he licked my hand, and Bea giggled into my arm.

“Uh-oh. He loves you. You’re his now,” she said.

“Didn’t you say he doesn’t lick strangers?”

“You’re not a stranger. I’ve told him all about you. You’re a friend.”

It was ridiculous, but I was immensely pleased she’d talked to her dog about me. It made me wonder who else she’d spoken to and what she’d said.

Benjamin let out a huff and, without warning, flopped over on my feet.

I turned to Bea. “He’s malfunctioning.”

“This is how he bonds,” she corrected. “And you started it. You petted him. That was your first mistake.”

Benjamin settled in, using my shoe as a pillow.