I felt much better after spewing my guts.

Dale? Not as impressed. Nothing says “nice to see you” like barfing all over a man.

And it didn’t look or smell pretty. But good news, it didn’t have any blood or body parts in it. Bad news, his shirt soaked it up like a sponge.

I grabbed a bottle of water that I kept in the console cup holder, took a swig to wash out my mouth, then handed it to him.

As he poured it over his face to clear the spatter, I scrounged for some tissue.

During this all, he didn’t say a word, and I was struck dumb when he stripped off his shirt and threw it onto the curb.

“Litterbug,” I muttered.

The look he gave me stalled anything else I might have said.

“Move over,” he growled, hand on the rim of the driver side door. “I’m driving.”

Still feeling queasy, I decided it best not to argue.

Dale swung himself into the driver seat, wearing only jeans and his shoes. I rather liked the look, even if he also wore a scowl.

“Are you cold? Would you like my cardigan?” I offered it and got an evil side-eye, not to be confused with an evil, possessed side-eye that involved a full head rotation.

“Keep the sweater.” He started my truck, the big engine growling happily—the slut. Wouldn’t you know my truck, like its owner, enjoyed a man’s hands on her.

“Who’s truck is this?” he asked, pulling away from the curb.

“Mine.” Said with great pride.

I got a grunt in reply. Probably one of jealousy because men coveted my vehicle. It brought out something primitive inside. And when the cops pulled me over for supposed road rage, I knew how to flash some cleavage and smile to get out of a ticket.

Dale drove, not speaking to me, and it rubbed me raw.

“Are you going to mope all day because I barfed on you?” I certainly wouldn’t have if the roles had been reversed. I’d have offered to hold his hair. What a jerk. He never once offered to hold mine.

I glared at him.

Despite the obvious heat of my stare, he didn’t look at me as his hands tightened on the wheel. “I am not moping.”

“Then why do you look like your panties are in a twist?”

“Who says I wear any?”

The surprising reply brought a laugh to my lips. “I’ll be damned, Scooby, I didn’t take you for a man who goes commando. Have you ever had a zipper incident?”

“A man only has one of those in his life before he learns to be careful.”

I nodded. “During my natural phase”—where I grew out a bush to rival those of the seventies—“I learned real quick to wear underwear if I planned to throw on some jeans. Waxing is a lot less painful.”

“Don’t you have any boundaries?” he asked.

I didn’t even hesitate. “Nope. And to prove it, I am more than happy to tell you that I now get a Brazilian on a regular schedule.”

“Nothing wrong with a bit of bush.”

“Says the guy who turns hairy on the full moon.”

“The moon doesn’t have to be full for us to do it. Those with control can change anytime.”

“Do you ever change during sex?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because there’re laws against bestiality.”

“You’re still a man inside.”

“The answer is still no.”

“I think it’s cool you can become a wolfman anytime. Show me.” I eyed him with curiosity, the conversation distracting from my sore tummy.

“Not now. I’m driving.”

“Afraid you might get all slobbery excited over the traffic and chase cars. Gotcha,” I said, nodding my head then wishing I hadn’t.

“I chase skirts, not cars.”

He didn’t chase mine, though. Still, he’d come to my rescue. That had to count for something.

“How come you were able to come to me so quick?” I asked. Because he’d literally arrived like two minutes after my phone call. Unless I’d blacked out for longer than I thought.

“I happened to be in the area.”

“Why?”

“None of your business.”

“Booty call. Probably with a married lady since you won’t tell me.” Shame. Despite my tryst with Mike, I still had a thing for Dale.

“No, I was not seeing anyone, married or not. Let’s leave it at I was looking into something. A better question is, what were you doing there?”

“In case you’re wondering, it wasn’t a booty call either. I was working on a case, and apparently, the person I was talking to didn’t like my questions. I’m pretty sure she poisoned me.” My stomach still roiled.

“Poison?” That earned me a skeptical gaze. “That would be pretty brazen considering you were parked out front.”

“Then maybe the milk she gave me for my coffee went bad. Something I ate didn’t agree with me.” My hand rested over my rumbly tummy. “I don’t usually puke unless I’ve had too many hot dogs and go on a whirly ride or try to do a reverse Jersey Turnpike after a few too many drinks.”

“I feel so lucky then.”

The sarcasm was strong with him. It was strong in me, too. “You’re welcome.”

He almost smiled. I saw it.

“What were you discussing with Mrs. Peabody?” he asked.

I tossed Dale a suspicious look through one squinted eye. “How do you know her name?” Because I’d certainly not mentioned it. Clarity hit a moment later, and I groaned. “Let me guess. Mike told you.”

“Wrong. Your friend Chloe told Pete about Mr. Peabody—”

“And Pete set his most trusted wolves on the case.” I jabbed a finger in his direction, two fingers for the two versions of him driving. “But you can stop right now. I am going to solve this mystery.”

“No, you’re not. Because, as of now, you’re off the case.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“You’re not the boss of me.” Childish taunts were still the best, especially when your guts were roiling. If he kept trying to piss me off, he might just get soaked again.

“In this, I am your boss, and I say you’re done. You’re out of your element, kitten. We are dealing with dangerous things here.”

“So what? I’m not afraid.” Much. One thing was for sure, I definitely didn’t suffer from boredom anymore.

“Don’t be stupid. I heard about what happened at the asylum.”

What a surprise, Mike had tattled. About which part, though? Then again, what were the chances Grumpy admitted he got to second base with me? Or was it third? I was never good at figuring out sports.

“What did you hear?” I asked, hedging my bets.

“That you almost got killed.”

“We don’t know for sure that Peabody would have hurt me.” Although that seemed rather likely had I continued to wear my clothes. An outfit now ruined beyond all repair. Would I have been destroyed, too, if I’d refused to take it off?

“You went to the asylum and deliberately antagonized him.”

“I went there to do my job. Not my fault Peabody went all crazy. I was just trying to get at the truth.”

“And in doing so, put yourself in danger. Just like you put yourself at risk going to his house.” For some reason, he sounded angry. But why? Why did he care what happened to me? “What were you thinking?” He shouted the words as he pulled up in front of my place. Low-rent, co-op apartment in the so-so part of town.

“I was thinking that I wanted to do something with my life, but as usual, I screwed up.” Best-laid plans once again fucked up by a girl who rushed in.

“You’re damned right you screwed up.”

For some reason, his words set me off. “Fuck off. I don’t care who the hell you think you are. I don’t need you pointing out my mistakes. You’re not my boss or my boyfriend. As a matter of fact, you’re nobody, which means I don’t have to listen to you at all.”

Clutching my purse in one hand, because it held a second set of keys, I poured myself out of the front seat. I hit the pavement hard and had to hold on to the door to keep myself upright. Before I could take a step, Dale was there, an arm around my waist supporting me.

I shoved at him, weakly, as if I’d just gone ten rounds with the flu and lost. “Go away. Leave me alone.”

“Why are you so damned stubborn?” he muttered.

“Meemaw says I’m assertive.” My lips turned down. “It’s why people don’t like me.” The depressing words didn’t sit well, and neither did the pity I was sure he had in his gaze.

Once again, I pushed away from him and made it one step, one wavering move where the building doubled, and I wondered how I’d make it all the way to my place.

I’d make it with sheer determination. I dragged another foot forward. The world worked against me and took that moment to tilt.

Before I could kiss the pavement, Dale swept me into his arms.

“Put me down.” Protested the girl who was quite content being held.

“Shut up.”

“Not possible. I never stop talking.”

“I’ve noticed.” He strode right into my building and eschewed the elevator for the stairs.

Show off.

He stopped at the sixth floor and strode down the hall, stopping exactly in front of my door.

“How come you know where I live?” I asked as he held me securely with one arm, his knee propped under my ass as he jangled my keys to open the door.

“I know a lot of things about you, kitten.”

He made it sound so ominous.

The door opened, and he went inside, then kicked it shut before he set me down.

I leaned against the wall, my purse feeling heavy, way too weighty. Peeking out of it was that wretched bag of cookies. Like I’d eat any more of those.

I tossed them on the table by the entrance. I’d burn the fuckers later. Or put them out on my window ledge for those pigeons that liked to roost there and poop.

People might not know, but pigeon poop stank, which meant I kept my windows closed a lot and often thought about buying a BB gun.

Dale kept a hand on my elbow as I tottered to my bathroom. With the vile taste of barf coating my mouth, I was in dire need of a toothbrush.

First, I threw up again. Something about seeing my white porcelain toilet sent me to my knees, heaving up my guts.

But I felt immensely better after, especially once I scrubbed, spat, scrubbed again, gargled, and even flossed until my mouth tasted minty fresh.

Then I went straight to bed. Fuck Dale. My body screamed for sleep.

I passed out almost immediately and suffered through some truly messed-up dreams, one involving a giant cookie with teeth and red eyes chasing me.

When I woke, a gritty-eyed peek at my clock showed three hours had passed. I staggered into the bathroom, happy that my stomach didn’t appear to want to vacate my body anymore. I brushed my teeth and splashed my face, feeling eminently more human. I slipped out of my pretty blue dress for something more comfortable and bra-less. A T-shirt with a piñata that said I’d hit that and my track pants that said Sweet on the ass.

I exited my bathroom to find Dale still in my apartment.

Great.

With the luck I’d had today, he was probably waiting to start round two of his lecturing. Whatever. Didn’t mean I’d listen to it.

I made a beeline for my couch and flopped on it face-first.

“Are you all right? I didn’t hear you throwing up again.”

He’d heard me puking before? Lovely. Nothing screamed “aren’t I sexy?” like blowing chunks. Then again, I’d probably dropped out of any sexy category when I barfed on him at the Peabodys’.

“I’m fine.” I waved a hand. “You can go now.” I couldn’t believe he’d stayed while I slept.

“I don’t think so. You seemed pretty sick.”

“So sick you didn’t call an ambulance?”

“I would have had you shown signs of distress.”

“Well, as you can see, no distress. So, you can go now.” Leave so I could bang my head on a wall for permanently ruining any chance with Dale.

“I’ll go but only if you promise to stop investigating the Peabodys.”

“No.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“You’re not the boss of me.” Chloe was. And even then, I didn’t know if I’d listen. Even with my guts feeling as if someone had taken a knife to them, I couldn’t quell my curiosity.

Why would Mrs. Peabody try and poison me? Or had her plan merely been to incapacitate me? Had Dale not come along, would I have awoken in her house, tethered to a bed?

Naked…

Who knew what that woman wanted from me.

“Don’t make me tie you up again.”

At the threat, I turned my head sideways and managed a lopsided smirk. “Have you ever heard that Rihanna song, the one about bondage being exciting?” I propped up my ass on the couch and purred. “Go ahead and spank me.”

I expected more grouchy warnings, maybe even a good smack—after all, we had precedence.

Instead, he pulled me off that couch and dragged me to my feet. His hands gripped my wrists tightly. So firmly.

He held me against him and glared down at me.

I smiled.

A low rumble vibrated from him. “You have got to be the most—”

“Sexy and vibrant woman you’ve ever met.” I helped him finish his sentence. I was helpful like that.

“I was going to say irritating, stubborn, and lacking in common sense sexy woman I’ve ever met.”

“You think I’m sexy?” Focusing on the one word meant my grin widened.

“That’s the part you chose to listen to?”

I shrugged. “You say the other things like they’re an insult, but my meemaw taught me to embrace my faults. They are part of what makes me, me.”

“You are driving me nuts.”

“Then leave. Out of sight, out of mind.”

“Leaving won’t mean out of mind, though. You think I haven’t tried to forget you?”

Hold on a second. What? “You’ve been thinking of me?”

Dale reeled me in closer, and his head lowered so that our noses almost touched. “Every fucking day. Even when I sleep, I see you. You’re like some weird addiction I can’t shake.”

“Why, Dale, that was almost romantic.”

“I don’t want to be romantic. I want you.”

Swoon. The words any girl wanted to hear. But I just had to put my foot in it.

“I feel like I should probably mention that I kissed Mike today.”

“What?” He might have yelled the word.

“It happened after the Peabody incident. We ended up in his office, my mouth ended up on his, and next thing you know, he might have touched my va-jay-jay.”

“Touched your what?”

I arched a brow. “You know, my girly bits.” I hastened to add, “I don’t know if it will lead to anything, or even if it means anything. I’m still not entirely sure Mike even likes me, but given he’s like your best bud, I feel like I should tell you.”

His expression turned stormy. “Did you like it?”

No point in lying at this point. I nodded my head and added, “It was nice.” Nice in an explosive, my-body-would-have-enjoyed-seconds kind of way.

“Fuck nice. How does this feel?”

Dale then proceeded to kiss me.

He. Kissed. Me.

And what a kiss. He claimed my mouth. Dominated every inch, cell, and atom of it. Branded me with his embrace. Ignited my passion.

Was it any wonder we ended up on the couch? His heavy body atop mine, my legs parted to cradle him. His hips moved, grinding against me, pushing against my crotch in a way that had me panting and clawing at his bare back.

It was wonderful. And exciting. I wanted more.

When his hand reached under my shirt to cradle my breast, I moaned and arched into his grip. When he pulled back enough to nip at the tip through the fabric covering it, I gasped.

My legs wrapped around his waist, hugging him close as he sucked and nipped at my sensitive nipples. Playing with them. Exciting me so much that a mini orgasm rocked me.

And he knew it.

“That’s it, kitten. Wait until I sink my cock into you. I can’t wait to feel you clenching it. I want to make you come all over me.”

“Yes. Yes. Do it.” The dirty talk had me panting and groaning and…meowing?

Dale pulled away, and through heavy eyelids, I got a glimpse of his face, softer than I’d seen it before and yet, at the same time, fierce with passion.

And creased with annoyance.

“Fucking cockblocker.” Pulling away from me, Dale yanked a phone from his back pocket and answered it with a barked—human, not wolf—“What now?”

His face lost the sensual connection we’d shared, becoming stonier and harder with each word he heard.

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m coming.” And not in a creamy way, I’d wager. “Bye.” He shoved the phone away and stared at me.

“I get the impression we’re not going to keep making out.” Bummer. Two men and two orgasms in one day and yet not a single dick to truly put out the fire in my vagina.

For a moment, he looked pained as he ran his hand through his hair. “Sorry, kitten. I can’t stay. That was Mike on the phone.” His lips twisted. “I’m needed elsewhere.”

Yeah, in my pants, right now. But the mention of Mike kind of threw a bucket of icy water on my ardor. What was I thinking, making out with Mike’s best friend? What was Dale thinking, making a pass in the first place? “You should go.”

Rising from the couch, he grimaced down at his bare torso. “I don’t suppose you have a shirt I could borrow.”

I did. Not one he liked, but he put it on anyway.

At the door, he paused, and I thought for a moment he’d say fuck it and take me against the wall. Instead, he said, “Lock the door once I leave. And whatever you do, stay away from the Peabodys.”

I crossed my fingers behind my back. “I’ll be good.” When Hell freezes over.

“Speaking of good…” He stepped into the hall before turning around and giving me a panty-dropping smile. “How would you rate our make-out session?”

I couldn’t help myself. I was bad. So bad. Which was why I said, “It was nice,” before slamming the door shut.