The Negotiator (Harbor City 1)

She hustled past the panting dogs and their owners, who were seemingly oblivious to the serious weirdness of the moment as they talked amongst themselves, and slid into the booth beside Sawyer. “What’s going on?”

“Vito’s having a birthday party.”

“We were invited to a dog party?”

“No, I didn’t know it was happening, but when I showed up as Donna was closing up she said we could stay,” he said, before taking a bite of an extra salty fry. “The thing is, we have to share a booth with Vito.”

She stole one of his fries and had it halfway to her mouth when Vito let out a low growl. The dog had its own plate of fries in front of it. Wait. She looked closer. Nope. They were fry-shaped dog biscuits. Vito didn’t seem interested though as he watched her purloined fry as if she’d snagged it from his dish.

“I’ve never been to a dog’s birthday party before,” she said.

“What?” Sawyer asked in mock surprise. “The woman who milked snakes has never been to something as pedestrian as a canine celebration?”

“Smart-ass.” Ignoring the dirty look and lazy growl from Vito, she popped the fry into her mouth. “I don’t think he likes me.”

“Maybe because he is a she.” Sawyer slung his arm over the back of the booth and twisted a strand of her hair around his fingers.

Without thinking about it she relaxed back into his embrace, feeling like she belonged there in a way she didn’t want to delve too deeply into. In a few weeks she’d be on her way to Australia to help the endangered Rock Wallabies and he’d be off changing Singapore’s skyline. Their paths couldn’t be any more different. This was a fun diversion, a mini-adventure, nothing more—so analyzing it instead of just enjoying the moment while it lasted wouldn’t do a damn bit of good.

Vito picked that moment to emit another half-hearted growl.

“A girl, huh? That would explain it,” Clover said.

“What?” he asked.

“Even Vito is a candidate to be the next Mrs. Carlyle.” She stole another fry. “God help you if your mom finds out.”

“If I buy you an extra-large pineapple shake and an order of your own fries, will you keep your mouth shut about it?” he asked before feeding her a fry.

“Bahaya,” she mumbled.

Vito cocked her head to one side.

Sawyer chuckled. “What does that mean?”

It meant danger because that’s the exact zone she was flying into without a parachute, but she wasn’t about to admit that.

So she lied. “Consider me bribed.”

The fry in her mouth turned to sawdust.

…

“You’d better not be eating all the popcorn,” Sawyer demanded two days later as he walked into the living room with two cold beers after successfully hiding another pair of hiking boots. If he didn’t learn to control that urge, he was going to end up paying for a dozen pairs that were stuffed into one secret place or another in his penthouse.

Clover froze, a handful of popcorn halfway to her mouth. “The bowl was extra full, it would have spilled everywhere and ruined your couch.”

“Likely story,” he said, sitting down next to her. He put the beers on the coffee table and grabbed the remote before she picked something horrible for movie night.

She snuggled up next to him, moving into the same position they ended up in whenever they were in one of her HGTV marathons. “So you’re really not willing to play rock, paper, scissors for the right to pick the movie?”

“Hell no.” Clover was hot. She rocked his world. But he could not take another mini-marathon of Flea Market Flip. “You’ve suckered me into fixing up that stupid bar cart.”

She snorted. “Talk all you want, I know you had fun.”

“It was total misery, which is why I get to pick the movie.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Stuffikins.”