Chapter 25
“Oh, shit,” Dash muttered.
I crouched low, holding out my hand. “It’s okay, puppy.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Dash said, moving closer to me.
The second he did, the dog snarled again, and Dash froze.
“Hell,” he mumbled, pulling out his phone and shooting off a text.
“Don’t make any sudden movements,” I said.
The dog was beautiful. He was the largest husky I’d ever seen, with bewitching hazel eyes and a shiny coat that was a mix of colors. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”
Footsteps thundered across the lawn, and I caught sight of Ronan and Trace running toward us. I held up a hand, motioning for them to slow. “Don’t. He’s scared. You’ll spook him.”
They skidded to a stop about ten feet away.
Concern creased both their features. Ronan took one step forward. “Leighton, back up slowly and head to the house.”
I shook my head and stretched my hand out a little further. “Come here, boy. I won’t hurt you.”
The dog took a couple steps forward as he eyed the rest of the guys warily. Then a few more. I smiled as he licked my hand.
“Oh, fuck,” Trace muttered.
I scratched under the dog’s chin, ignoring Trace’s comment. “That’s it.”
The dog sat, then rolled on its side. I laughed as I scratched his belly. “You just wanted a little love, didn’t you?”
“What a cock block,” Dash muttered.
I looked up at Ronan and Trace. “Do you know if he belongs to someone around here? He’s not wearing any tags.”
Trace started laughing, and Ronan jabbed him hard in the gut with his elbow, then cleared his throat. “I’ve seen him around before, but I’m not sure where he lives.”
The dog gave a light nip to my hand as if he were annoyed I was paying attention to anyone but him.
“Hey,” I admonished. “None of that.”
The dog licked my hand instead, and I kept rubbing his belly. “That’s better.”
I glanced at Dash. “Will you take his picture with your phone?”
“Why?” he asked, suspicion lacing his tone.
“Because I want to make up some found dog posters. We need to find his owners. He’s obviously well-fed and cared for. They’re probably going out of their minds with worry.”
Trace snorted. “Or they’re relieved to have a few minutes of peace.”
I scowled at him. “Some people actually have a heart.”
Something passed over Trace’s face so quickly, I didn’t have a chance to identify it. Then the cocky expression was back. “Having a heart just makes you weak.”
“Whatever,” I muttered.
Ronan lifted his phone. “Here. I’ll do it, and then I can help you with the flyers. We’ll have security deliver them around the neighborhood.”
I beamed at him. “Thank you.”
The shutter sounded, and Ronan shoved his phone back in his pocket. “Come on. Let’s get these posters made.”
I gave the dog one last rub. “I’ll be right back. Be good.”
The dog let out a low, plaintive whine.
“That’s just pathetic,” Trace mumbled.
I glared at him as I got to my feet. The more glimpses of Trace I got, the more I realized he saw every emotion as a weakness.
But the truth was, letting yourself care deeply meant you were stronger than those who didn’t because you fully experienced pain of every kind.
But that also meant you fully experienced every kind of joy, too.
The dog sent a mournful look in my direction, and my heart clenched. “I won’t be long. You just wait here.”
Trace snickered, but I ignored him, following Ronan into the house.
He led me up the stairs and a couple of doors down from my room. “We can use my laptop.”
I was suddenly nervous at the idea of entering Ronan’s space. My fingers laced together in a series of intricate knots. “Thanks.”
“Of course.” He pressed his thumb to some sort of lock on his door and pulled it open.
My brows rose at the high-tech device.
He shrugged. “I’ve got a thing for security.”
A heaviness settled over me at that because this property was the most secure place I’d ever entered. The fact that Ronan still felt like he needed added protection told me he’d been through something that had marked him.
We moved into his room. It was similar to mine in size and had a sitting area that held bean bags and a couch. His bed was massive with a gray comforter and industrial frame. But it was the photography on the walls that stole my breath.
Massive black and white works of art. Dark, storming waves that crashed against the beach. The close-up of a face as a tear slid down a woman’s cheek. A broken bicycle that had been discarded along a road. Every single one evoked emotion in me that pulled and twisted.
“These are amazing,” I whispered. “Who’s the photographer?”
It wasn’t like I’d be able to afford a piece, but maybe one day.
Ronan didn’t answer, and I finally tore myself away from the art and turned to face him. He studied me intently.
“You don’t want to tell me?” Maybe he wanted to be the only one who had the powerful works on his walls.
Ronan shifted his weight and squeezed the back of his neck. “I took them.”
My jaw went slack. “Are you for real?”
He shrugged. “I was just messing around.”
“That’s bull,” I snapped, anger heating my blood. “You’re beyond talented, and downplaying that is just ridiculous. You should be selling these in galleries.”
The corner of Ronan’s mouth kicked up. “You know, you can be a firecracker when you’re heated. Didn’t expect that.”
I huffed out a breath. “I don’t like seeing talent wasted or downplayed.”
Tenderness filled Ronan’s expression. “Fair enough. Come on, let’s make this flyer.”
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent the photo to his computer. Only the picture wasn’t just of the dog. I was in the frame, too. My red hair fell in loose waves across my face as I smiled down at the canine.
“You can cut me out of it,” I murmured.
“That’s a waste, but okay.”
Within a matter of minutes, he’d put together a flyer to help us find the dog’s owners. “I’ll send it to security, and they can get it printed and distributed.”
I looked up at Ronan. “Thanks for helping me.”
Those amber eyes sparked with gold flecks. “Pretty sure I’d do anything for you.”
My stomach dipped and rolled. Something was wrong with me. I’d had maybe one or two crushes in my entire life, and now, all of a sudden, I was feeling pulled toward a different guy every moment.
I forced my gaze to my feet. “Thanks.”
Ronan chuckled. “You’re cute when you blush, Firecracker.”
Before I could respond, he took my hand and led me out of his room. He didn’t let go on the stairs or as we wove our way through the house. Not even when we stepped outside.
My gaze scanned the backyard. Trace and Dash stood in a heated discussion, but the dog was nowhere to be found.
I tugged my hand out of Ronan’s and started running. “Where is he?”
Trace’s and Dash’s heads snapped up.
Dash winced. “He, uh, kinda took off.”
“What? He could be hurt out here by himself.”
“He’d deserve it,” Trace said under his breath.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I snapped.
“Hey, guys,” Colt called, jogging up.
I whirled around. “Did you see a dog? A massive husky?”
“Yeah, Colt,” Trace ground out. “See any dogs while you were on your run? Leighton, here, is worried this one is lost.”
Colt coughed, trying to clear his throat, and it was then I noticed he was only wearing running shorts and sneakers. I gulped as I took in the tanned skin pulled taut over defined muscles.
“Yeah, I saw him. His owner from across the street called him home.”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
Ronan came up behind me and squeezed my shoulder. “See, Firecracker? Nothing to worry about.” He paused, pinning Colt with his stare. “Some dog owners just need to be a hell of a lot more responsible.”