I stopped at the door and lifted my hand his way when he turned back to me. “You’re Rix, I’m—”
“Know who you are,” he cut me off to say, then he ignored my hand and left the door open as he turned and walked away.
His gait on his prosthetics was triflingly ungainly.
His ass was everything.
I heard a screen door open, claws on floor, and then I saw Zeke.
I hadn’t stepped over the threshold before he ran to me, tail wagging, and stopped on Judge’s indoor mat, now with whole body wagging.
I crouched to give him a full head and neck rub, murmuring, “Hello, beautiful boy.”
He panted and lolled his tongue.
At least one male in this house welcomed me.
I saw movement, glanced up, and there was Judge.
Rix had a younger Frank Grillo vibe to him, big, built, tough, rough and ready.
Judge was sun and dirt and pine and moonlight and forest rains and gentle breezes.
He was beer on the deck and pepperoni and sausage on pizza and conversations that were entirely teases that were endearingly annoying and annoyingly endearing and strong hands with long fingers that were tailored to wrap around yours.
He was warm brown eyes and soft brown hair and that perfectly angled tilt of your head when you wore heels and you wanted his mouth on yours, then got it.
Rix could probably wrestle a bear.
Judge could walk through the forest and not startle a doe.
As I crouched there, petting his dog, gazing up at him, I wanted him so badly, I feared it was imprinted on my DNA.
And I had to find a way to get over it.
“Is she a vampire? Does she need an invitation to walk into a house?” Rix’s voice came from inside.
And suddenly, I remembered who I was.
With one more thorough sweep of Zeke’s ears, head and neck, I straightened, walked in and said to Judge, “Hello, Judge.”
“Chloe. You hit a River Rain store before you showed?” he asked, eyes traveling down my body.
Message clear.
My outfit was spectacular.
However, I already knew that.
Slim hiking pants in a deep gray-green, a long-sleeve, thin thermal in a muted bright yellow-green and a hooded featherless vest in olive.
Strapped over me was a medium size crossbody that had tucked inside a hat, gloves, my phone, license, a KIND bar, and some antibacterial wipes. And I carried a carnation pink Hydro Flask.
What could I say?
My new brothers and soon-to-be stepfather were nature lovers, and I loved them.
I was also Chloe Marilyn Pierce, so I didn’t do anything not kitted out to absolute perfection.
Therefore, when my life included Duncan, Sullivan and Gage, I’d purchased several items to create a limited wardrobe for this specific type of occasion.
And although I did this in a River Rain store (of course), I didn’t do it before I showed at Judge’s.
Therefore, I answered Judge coolly with a “No.” I then turned my attention to Rix. “And you said earlier when I introduced myself that you know who she is, that being me. So please, have my leave to use my name. It’s Chloe.”
Rix scowled at me.
And when he did, I had to admit to being slightly scared.
“Rix is gonna be our camera guy,” Judge shared.
I thought Judge was going to be our “camera guy.”
Therefore, we didn’t need a “camera guy.”
However, if Judge needed a buffer (why he would need this, I had no idea, he was fine with us not being anything), I wasn’t going to discuss that part.
I turned and looked up at him. “Did Rix get the memo that we were only together a minute and therefore there is utterly nothing for him to be a cad about?” I asked acidly.
At first, Judge’s head jerked.
Then his brows edged down.
After that, something openly dawned on him.
This led to his polite but impersonal gaze warming exponentially (alas).
And to end this conglomeration of fascinating emotiveness, he appeared in pain, the kind you had when you were trying very hard not to laugh.
The fourth one was difficult to withstand.
The last nearly impossible.
Even his deep voice was choked with humor when he asked, “Cad?”
“I could use a far less polite word,” I suggested drily.
“That’s all right, I think we got it,” Judge muttered amusedly.
I glared at him. Then I glared at Rix (who was still scowling at me, incidentally).
I then looked down at Zeke, who was sitting between me and Judge, and not scowling at all.
“Please tell me you’re coming too,” I said to Zeke.
“Of course he is,” Judge answered for Zeke.
“Thank God,” I said to the dog.
He licked his chops, noticed my sustained attention, and got to all fours to offer the body wag again, since all indications were it earned him pets.
He was right to go for it.
I bent to scratch his head.
But I did it tilting mine back to look at Judge (who was watching me…could it be? …affectionately. What on earth? No, I didn’t want to know) and demand, “Are we doing this?”