Plight(11)

He sighed. "Yeah, I reckon it would be."

My eyes zeroed in on the picture and I blinked then blinked again, finding him standing there, beside his teammates. "Shit! I knew you looked familiar. You're Chris Mitchell."

"The one and only," he said with a cheesy grin, adding in a few extra punches to the boxing bag.

"Well, technically, there's probably millions of Chris Mitchell's in the world."

His grin dropped, as did his arms. "So, how do you know Dani?" he asked, his tone flat and serious.

Before I could answer, a skittering, scratching sound grew louder and louder until a four-legged, ball of ugly canine barrelled into me.

"DUDLEY! Get back here. I haven't dried your feet." Danielle rounded the corner and pulled to a stop, towel in hands, her nose as red as Rudolph's.

Lowering my hand to her overexcited pug's head, I inconspicuously held him and his wet paws away from my pants.

She winced. "Sorry. His feet are wet."

"Paws," I clarified.

"What?"

"Paws, not feet. Dogs have paws."

She glared at me. "You're early."

"Traffic was light." I picked up Pugly and held him out to her.

"Thanks," she said, collecting him within her towel. He licked her face, and she spat. "Damn it, Dudley. Why can't you eat roses?"

Chris opened his bar fridge, pulled out a beer, cracked it open, and offered it to me. I declined, so he swigged it himself and flopped into an enormous beanbag. "So, how do you two know each other?"

"We were neighbours when we were kids," Danielle answered, quickly, as if I would offer an alternative explanation.

She knew me well.

Chris looked between us both and nodded, a shit-eating grin on his face. Yeah, he's definitely not her boyfriend.

"So, how do you two know each other?" I asked, my grin just as shit-eating as his.

"We've been dating for years, if you must know," Danielle blurted.

Chris nearly spat his beer but had no time to recover when Danielle dropped Pugly into his lap. "Babe, can you dry Dudley's paws while I thank Elliot and show him out? Thanks."

Her fingers wrapped around my arm and she steered me toward the door just as Pugly licked Chris' face followed by his beer bottle.

"Jesus, Pugly. Fuck!"

Danielle laughed dismissively and kept ushering me out. "Chris doesn't mean to call Dudley that. He loves our fur baby just as much as I do."

"I do not," he murmured.

I bit back my laugh. The entire situation was hilarious. Danielle was hilarious.

Stopping at the door, she held out her hand. "I take it you have my phone?"

"I do." I reached into my pocket, pulled it out and placed it in her hand, my fingers lingering long enough to lightly caress hers.

"Th  …  thank you," she stuttered, raising her hand and phone to her chest. "I really do appreciate you bringing it to me."



       
         
       
        

"It was my pleasure."

We both reached for the door handle simultaneously, our faces brushing one another's, our eyes locking. She sucked in a short, sharp breath, and I licked my lips.

"Oh no you don't. Not again."

The cold of the night air slapped my face as she shoved me through the open door and onto the front landing, and I had just enough time to right my feet and turn around to laugh at her and say goodbye before she closed the door.

Yep. He's definitely not her boyfriend.





He smells so damn good. And his eyes, those lips  …  his hands  …  ARGH! Elliot was so bloody infuriating. I couldn't remember him ever being that infuriating. Why is he so infuriating?

Sighing, I slumped against the front door and closed my eyes.

"That was interesting."

My eyes shot open again, and I grasped my chest. "Shit, Chris! You scared me."

"You blindsiding me with the fact we are dating, scared me."

"Sorrrrrrrry," I groaned, rubbing the palms of my hands over my face. "If it's any consolation, I blindsided myself as well."

Chris pried my hands from my face and fired me a condemnatory smirk. "Are you gonna tell me what's going on with Mr Know-It-All?"

I furrowed my brow. "Mr Know-It-All?"

"Yeah. Mr 'Feet not Paws', and 'There's millions of Chris Mitchells in the world'."

I laughed, my head falling back against the door. "He said that to you?"

"Yeah. The fucking flog."

Giggling, I followed as Chris led me down the hallway to the living room where I flopped onto our beanbag. "Technically, he's right, you know." Technically? Goddamn it, I even sound like him now.