Hunt Me! (I Crave The Chase) - Page 169

“Now tell me what’s your pleasure,” Collin said in the most horrific Italian accent I had ever heard in all my life.

“Collin—” I said warningly, horrified.

“Ala carte?—”

“Collinnnnn.” This wasn’t part of the plan. He was just supposed to dress the part. Not act it! It was supposed to be the right amount of cheesy, not full-blown embarrassing.

“Oh.” Mutt said. I twisted to look at him. His eyes were wide and full of wonder, his mouth dropped open as he stared at Collin, then me, then the table, then Collin again. “Oh.”

He gets it.

He gets it!

I stared at Collin too—realizing suddenly that he’d been helping me out, rather than fucking with me. I could kiss him, I loved him so much right then.

“You!” Mutt gripped the table tight enough it creaked. He was practically vibrating in excitement. There was an awful tearing sound and then I heard the steady thump, thump of his tail—and I knew…fuck.

I knew I’d done good.

“I?” I grinned, wiggling back excitedly.

“You did not!” Mutt declared, slapping the table, his hair spiking up all over as a blinding smile broke across his face.

“I did!” I grinned back. And then because I could, I leaned across the table and tasted his smile. Careful of the candle, I couldn’t really make out with him—so I pulled back, way too soon, and took my seat again.

“Ew,” Collin said, grinning at the both of us. And then he placed a menu on the table just like the man in Lady and the Tramp had—it’d taken me for-fucking-ever to make that shit—and gestured at it. “Pick what you want—but don’t actually,” he dropped the accent as quickly as he’d picked it up, making it even more obvious that he’d only adopted it to help me in the first place. “Because you’re eating spaghetti and meatballs.”

I laughed, unable to help myself, covering my mouth as I stared at Mutt and his giddy excitement. He fingered the menu with his big, tan hands, sniffing it curiously, then beaming at me the second he seemed to realize I’d made it by hand.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Collin saluted me, then Mutt, then headed back down the hallway.

“He is your brother,” Mutt declared.

“He is,” I agreed, and claiming him came easy. “The little one I told you about. He’s a shit.”

“I have many shits for brothers,” Mutt smiled, eyes crinkling.

“Seems like it’s a requirement.”

He nodded, still vibrating happily. Thump, thump, thump went his tail. “You did this for me,” he said, and my head jerked, my cheeks hot. “Because I told you I loved the movie with the dogs who kiss.”

“Yeah!” I wiggled happily, so fucking glad that I’d gotten this right. “You like it?”

“Like it?!” Mutt slapped the table, and the candle rattled. “I love it!”

“Really?”

“Really!” He beamed at me, and I beamed right back. His tail kept thumping, and I was half-tempted to ditch my chair entirely and join him in his. But…I wasn’t so sure Blair’s tiny dinky chairs could handle our combined weight. I wished I had a tail, so I could wag back and he’d know just how fucking happy he made me.

When Collin returned with the food my stomach gurgled.

He sat the massive plate of spaghetti between us, piled high with meatballs and red sauce. Mutt licked his lips, staring at it eagerly, his eyes bright. He plucked at his collar again, tugging at it subconsciously, like he didn’t even notice he was doing it.

As sexy as he looked, he looked uncomfortable too.

We dug in. Mutt even tried to use a fork—which was fucking adorable honestly. He was very careful. Jabbing the meatballs like they were bombs about to go off, and someone had taken great pains to teach him. And every time he took a bite, he glanced down at his button-up, as if terrified he’d spilled on it.

“Hey,” I said, reaching across the table to close my hand over his. He was still gripping the table, his claws having popped free in his excitement. “Why don’t you take that off?”