Page 26 of The Cul-de-Sac War

She was wearing black leggings and ratty house shoes that had seen better days. In one of her arms she gripped the take-out bag no doubt containing the missing Chinese food.

What if he was eating Chinese tonight? The thought, the desire, flicked in his thoughts in a heartbeat. An image of him sitting on the back stairs of the Barter with a box in his lap, watching her sit cross-legged on that top step holding chopsticks, that long, burnished red braid of hers carelessly draped over one shoulder. Laughing. Daring.

A dog barked.

He blinked.

Russell swung out of nowhere, his legs racing around her open driver-side door.

Where had he come from?

Bree screamed and threw herself back into the driver’s seat, slamming the door just as the dog pounced.

For a moment or two Russell just stood there, propped against Bree’s door like a six-foot Frankenstein monster with his paws pressed to the top of her window. Finally he dropped down.

And sat.

He watched Russell’s pouty face as the dog stared at her, his nose pressed against the window, his tail wagging ferociously.

Russell licked the window and left one long, steady saliva stream behind.

Chip laughed.

He leaned his forearms against the stoop’s rail and watched Bree climb over the gearshift to the passenger seat. With one arm she pushed the passenger door open. Only after one rather unladylike spill onto the safety of her own yard did he openly chuckle at her again.

Bree’s head whipped toward him as she scrambled to standing, the takeout swinging wildly on her wrist. She pulled a leaf from her sweater. Then her hair.

“Your dog is a menace,” she said, stalking toward him.

“Come now,” Chip said, putting his hand on his heart. “Don’t say that in front of him. You’ll hurt his feelings.”

“And that collar doesn’t work.”

“Nonsense. I’ve checked it every time you’ve asked me. Every. Single. Time. Which makes, like, fifteen.”

She frowned as she stalked up the stairs and stopped on the front porch beside him.

He felt the smile of his eyes crinkling more as he watched her fiery ones. And boy were they fiery. Another dead leaf stuck out from the top of her braid.

Tentatively, he pulled it out.

Bree stiffened.

The world around them went quiet.

His voice was soft. “C’mon. You act as though you’ve never had a fan before.”

Bree’s brow furrowed slightly, and he tipped his chin toward Russell.

“He just likes you.”

She pressed her lips together but didn’t put up much of a fight. “He wants to eat me alive.”

“He wants to smother you with kisses. Is that the worst thing in the world?”

There was another pause.

His eyes flickered to her lips, and he snapped them up when he realized what he’d done.