Eat Crow (Cheap Thrills 6)

“Shut up,” I growled, placing the plate down in front of him. His weird smile turned to confusion. “Now, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s just that it looks… Well, edible?”

I had to agree. Nothing was burned, the meat hadn’t just collapsed into a pile of ground beef, it’d cooked all the way through, and it smelled good instead of like crap.

Still, he waited for me to put the first forkful in my mouth, watching my reaction the whole time.

I couldn’t remember what Tony had added to it, but I was grateful that he’d left me step-by-step instructions on how to do it again. In fact, step-by-step wasn’t the best way to describe them. More like a dummies guide, to a dummies guide, to a dummies guide of making the meatloaf.

“Damn, it’s good.”

His hand only shook slightly as he put his own in his mouth, but all of the panic changed the minute he tasted it properly.

“Well shit, maybe he’s a miracle worker? This might be the best meatloaf I’ve ever had.” He shoved another forkful in. “Don’t tell Mom.”

Snickering, I enjoyed my own food. Even the potatoes were cooked and not hard in the middle. I couldn’t tell you where I went wrong with cooking, it was like it had a vendetta against me whenever I did it, but I followed every step and the timings I was told to when I tried to do it on my own. Maybe I could get Tony to help me cure the problem?

Through it, he spoke about how hectic his day had been, describing what it was like working with the guys from Palmerstown P.D. I remembered Kapono from high school and the issues the two of them had with each other, so the two of them having to work together was hilarious.

After dinner, I put the leftovers away—a new novelty for me, having leftovers that were edible and not just because the food was too disgusting to consume—and we cleaned up the kitchen.

“I bought Doyle another huge bone with extra marrow in the middle. It was in the bag with the other stuff I brought home,” he said as he tossed down the dishcloth. “I’m going to give it to him and see if he likes me after it.”

Following behind him, I watched him walk over to Doyle, who didn’t even blink as he unwrapped it in front of him.

“I don’t think he needs you to go to those lengths to prove it isn’t poisoned,” I pointed out, enjoying the show he was putting on.

“I dunno. If he brought me food, I’d assume he’d poisoned it. It’s all about gaining his trust.”

“This something you read online, too?”

His back was to me, so he didn’t see the sarcastic smile I added. Instead, he nodded and put the wrapper on the floor beside him before holding it out to Doyle for him to sniff. He took his time doing it, like he was torturing Logan for even deigning to get close to him, but eventually, he lifted his head and stuck his nose on it, taking loud whiffs of the bone.

But he didn’t take it. Oh no, Pops had raised him to be the ultimate asshole. Instead, he put his head back down and closed his eyes like he was going back to sleep.

“Damn,” he sighed, standing up with it still in his hand. “Guess I’ll just put it in the trash if you don’t want it. Maybe I’ll find another little boy who needs a bone to chew on?”

He only got one step away from him when Doyle started growling and sat up straight, still in his bed.

Shooting me a smug grin, Logan looked back at him. “You want it?”

Doyle’s head tilted to the side like he was thinking about it, but then he got out of his bed and jumped over to stand next to Logan, butting his head against him and making a quiet whining noise.

“I see you, but you haven’t said if you want it,” Logan pressed, watching the dog expectantly.

Doyle sat down and raised a paw, something I didn’t even know he could do.

“Well, would you look at that,” I breathed wide-eyed. “The little shit head has tricks and hid them from me.”

Shaking the paw, Logan said, “Say please.”

My new name for Doyle was going to be the bone whore, because he barked and sat up on his hind legs.

“Well, hell. I didn’t expect that,” he snickered, crouching down again. “Okay, you can have it, but I want a kiss.”

“I think you’re pressing your luck,” I warned, watching the dog warily. They didn’t go from an enemy to your best friend in seconds, it took t—

That little pecker head did precisely what he asked, bumping him under the chin and then licking him from jaw to forehead.