Drop Dead Gorgeous

“So I basically cyber stalked this Sebastian guy, and based on his videos, figured out that he meets clients at the dog park we’re going to,” I reveal. “I thought we could stop by, maybe set up a conversation. We can’t just confront him and ask about Yvette.”

“Ah, that’s where Chunky comes in, I guess? You’re not just trying to get in my pants.”

“Don’t need Chunky for that,” I boast, and Zoey giggles.

Unaware that’s he’s instrumental in a murder investigation, Chunky lets out a cute growl, and I look in the rear-view mirror to check on him. He’s staring at the back of Zoey’s head with puppy dog eyes, and I think I’ve been replaced in the big guy’s heart. Of course, she did promise him peanut butter-flavored treats, and the way to any guy’s heart is through his stomach.

* * *

Chunky growls again, pulling on his leash as we pass by an oak tree that has a squirrel running around the trunk. Too bad Chunky would never be able to catch it.

The dog park’s up ahead, and as soon as we get through the gate, I unhook Chunky, letting him run and make friends with the half-dozen or so dogs that are doing . . . dog stuff. I see three sniffing asses, one hiking his leg, and a few others chasing each other.

But I’m quickly distracted by Zoey. She looks so happy, a smile on her face and the sun shining on her face. She’s beautiful.

“You’ve got some fur on your shirt,” I note, wanting to reach up and brush the fuzz off her chest.

Zoey looks down and laughs softly. She brushes off her chest, smirking when she sees where my eyes are still going. “I see how you are.”

I shrug, not denying a damn thing. “Yup.”

I’m about to say more when, out of the corner of my eye, I see a woman approaching us. Going by the leash in her hand and graphic logo on her T-shirt, she’s obviously a ‘dog mom.’ “Hi, haven’t seen you guys around before. I’m Brianna.”

“Hi, I’m Blake, and this is Zoey. And that guy over there is Chunky.” I point to Chunky, who’s in the middle of a pack of playing dogs.

“Friends? Dating? Married?” Brianna asks boldly.

“Uhm, friends?” Zoey offers uncertainly.

“Just friends?” Brianna says, looking incredulous. “I though you two looked cute together. So, are you new to the area?”

“New to this dog park,” I reply. “Say, you—”

Before I can casually ask if Brianna knows anything about the social media famous dog trainer who visits this park, she starts yelling. “Boopie! Boopie, no!” Following Brianna’s eyes across the park, I see what looks like a schnauzer trying to get his freak on with a labradoodle, except other than the obvious height issue, I’m pretty sure the labradoodle is a boy, too.

“Rainbows in the dog park,” Zoey notes as Brianna hurries off with a huff. “Hope that didn’t offend her.”

“It was funny,” I retort. “But . . . friends?”

Zoey stumbles, trying to find words as she grows pinker and pinker. “Just, ahh, you know, to be a couple we . . . well, ah, God, I don’t mean that . . . you know, Blake?”

“If you’d go out with me, you could say we’re dating,” I point out, and Zoey turns even redder. “What is it?”

“Holly says I should go out with you,” Zoey says. “Says I should take a chance.”

Interesting, but . . . “And you? What do you say?”

I can see her trying to retreat behind her walls as she twists a toe in the grass. “I want to, but . . .”

Nope. No ifs, no buts, no candy or nuts. “Enough said. That you’re even thinking about it says those walls are tumbling down. I can’t wait to see you free and open.”

Zoey goes to protest, but before the doubt can be given words, I pull her to me, kissing her deeply. She kisses me back, her hands going around my neck and drawing me in deep too. The world disappears, and I only faintly hear Brianna come by, chuckling. “Just friends . . . Hmph.”

I smile against her lips and pull back, looking into Zoey’s eyes. She goes to open her mouth to say something, but before she can, one of the other dog parents calls across the park to someone. “Hey Sea-bass!” We both freeze, eyes going wide with hope.

I turn my head to see Sebastian, looking more like a fitness model than a dog trainer in his tight T-shirt and low-slung gray sweat pants. He waves to whoever greeted him and opens the gate.

“Our guy?” Zoey asks, going to look, but I cup her face, looking into her eyes.

“Don’t look.”

“Then how am I going to know where he is?”

I smile, cutting my eyes to the side. “He’s by the gate, petting the pair of Great Pyrs.”