He shrugged. "Probably not missing much."
"And besides," I said, "it's Chucky like –" I hesitated. Honestly, I had no idea. And then, I heard myself blurt out, "Like my uncle." My uncle? Where on Earth hadthatcome from? I certainly didn't have an Uncle Chucky, and neither did the Parkers as far as I knew. "Um, so is he here?"
His mouth twitched. "Your uncle?"
I was cold, tired, and determined to skip the part of the script where I fell all over him, just because he was Lawton Rastor and, well, intoxicating. Luscious. Sexy beyond all reason. I gave myself a mental slap to the face. "No," I told him, very slowly, like speaking to an unruly toddler. "Chucky, my dog."
"Yeah. He's here." He stepped aside and flicked his head toward the interior of his house. "Come on in."
"Thank you," I muttered, following him inside.
My reaction to him was totally unlike me. But it didn't matter. Primitive attraction aside, the guy wasn't my type. Even if I were looking, which I wasn't, some gorgeous bad boy with a death wish wasn't on my life's shopping list.
I wasn't my Mom. I wasn't a one-night stand type of girl. I was a relationship kind of girl. And when I settled down – if I ever did settle down – it would be with someone safe. And stable. Someone exactly the opposite of Lawton Rastor.
I hadn't experienced a lot of safetyorstability as a kid, and I intended to make up for it in spades as an adult.
Inside, I pushed back the soaked hood from my equally soaked head. And that's when I saw them, two nearly identical blondes in tight black dresses, leaning against the open staircase. Their long hair was untouched by any rain, humidity, or, from what I could tell, any other force of man or nature.
They looked absolutely perfect. Perfect makeup, perfect clothing, perfect looks of contempt as they eyed me standing just inside the doorway, dripping water all over the marble floor.
Suddenly, I was very conscious of my wet hair and squishy tennis shoes. I looked down. My laces were still untied. Now they were muddy too.
"Your mutt ate our dinner," one of them said.
"And chewed up my purse," said the other one.
I resisted the urge to smile. Good boy.
Instead, I lifted my chin. "He's no mutt," I said with the pretended disdain of someone who might actually care about such things. "He's a purebred Yorkie. He has papers if you'd like to see them." I smiled. "Assuming you can read?"
I heard something like a chuckle. I glanced at Lawton Rastor. His mouth lifted at the corners as he eyed me with a curious look. Was he laughing with me? Or at me? Probably at me, I decided. I didn't need a mirror to see what he saw – a soggy girl with no fashion sense. He was probably wondering what rock I crawled out from under.
Maybe I should've taken more than thirty seconds to get ready, and brought an umbrella or a raincoat. I pointed vaguely toward the Parkers' house. "We share a fence."
"I know," he said.
He knew? How? I didn't even realize that fact myself until Chucky's great escape. Speaking of which, where was he? "You have my dog?" I said.
"I'm pretty sure your dog had me first," he said.
"Yeah," the first blonde broke in. "He chewed up Lawton's shirt."
I turned toward Lawton, making a conscious effort to not stare. But in working so hard to control my eyes, I lost control of my mouth. "So, you were actuallywearinga shirt?"
He rubbed the back of his neck. "Hey, it happens."
I suddenly occurred to me how rude I was being. I'd shown up uninvited, and apparently my dog, or rather the Parkers' dog, had eaten his dinner, and possibly his clothing. If I were the blushing type, I'd be blushing big-time right about now.
I shook my head. "Sorry. Rain makes me crabby." It wasn't true. I loved the rain. I just didn't like being out in it. "So," I cleared my throat. "I apologize." I blew out a breath. "For Chucky. And the shirt. And um, for my big mouth."
At this, his gaze briefly dipped to my lips. His own lips parted, like he was about to say something. But he never did. Instead, he studied me with a look that made my knees go weak and my mouth start running like it had a mind of its own.
"Of course," I continued, "it's none of my business what you wear, or don't wear around your own house. I mean, you could go naked, and it'd be no one's business, right?" Oh God. Shut up, Chloe. Shut up, shut up, shut up. I clamped my lips together and glanced away.
"Yeah?" he said with a crooked grin. "Good to know."
"So, uh, I'd better get going," I said.
