Dream Chaser (Dream Team, #2)(40)

He wasn’t an animal rights activist. Though he thought anyone who hurt them was a special kind of monster. He could not comprehend the concept of whaling, ditto making them and other sea mammals perform in small pools. He saw a documentary once about some hideous shit people did to bears that made him feel honest-to-Christ homicidal. He felt he could make an argument that the Tiger King was perhaps the most diabolically rancid individual who’d breathed in the last generation, and not only the way that sorry excuse for a human treated people, but mostly what he did to his animals. And Boone wanted a dog and a cat because he liked both.

He just knew in investigating Ryn after Evie had shared she had something in her life that made her need money enough to do lap dances, Ryn owned a wreck of a house that was sitting there, unused. He had no idea why. And she lived in an apartment that wasn’t as nice a place as she could afford with her income.

He knew this was because she was helping with her niece and nephew.

But buying a fur coat wouldn’t put her finances back on track.

She took him out of his thoughts by reaching up to kiss his jaw before she said, “Let me change. We’ll check out and then we’ll go.”

He nodded.

She bent to retrieve her hat before she strutted toward the dressing rooms.

That coat was over the top, but he was still going to fuck her on it.

This thought made him give himself a mental shake because every other thought about Ryn was about how he wanted to fuck her, and he hadn’t had sex on the brain this bad since he was fourteen.

“How’s things?”

This question, coming from Indy, took his attention.

“Uncertain,” he answered.

“Always are,” Shirleen muttered.

“Is Ryn safe?” Pepper asked.

“Absolutely,” Boone answered.

He noticed Pepper looked relieved.

He also noticed the veterans, Daisy, Indy, Shirleen and Roxie, exchanging knowing glances.

He ignored all this and looked to Evie.

“Mag meeting you here?” he asked.

Her eyes did that thing they did when she smiled, turning into upside-down crescent moons, it was cute, and then she said, “I told him where I was. He said he’d meet me at home.”

Boone bet he did.

“I think we need a list.” Hattie was talking to Daisy. “Add Cabaret. Britney Spears’s ‘Oops!…I Did It Again’ sequined catsuit. Anything from Queen Bey’s Coachella performance. Lizzo’s balloon tushy from the VMAs.”

“Stop, stop,” Daisy’s platinum head was bent to her phone, her fingers flying over the screen with ease regardless of the long talons she had that were painted overall blue with little silver stars on them, “I can’t go that fast. I’m still at ‘Oops.’”

Fortunately, it didn’t take long for Ryn to change.

She came out wearing a pair of cropped, khaki linen joggers, a skintight white tank and some high-heeled tan sandals with a lot of straps.

And Boone wanted to fuck her again.

She said good-bye to her girls, bought her shit, and Boone grabbed the bags, telling her they’d take his car to lunch, then they’d swing back by and get hers.

They were out in the corridor when she mumbled, “Never had a guy carry my shopping bags before.”

“Sounds to me like you never had a guy worth shit so that’s no surprise.”

He remained facing forward, looking where they were going, even if he felt her gaze on him.

“Dig your outfit,” he told the hall.

“Thanks,” she said softly.

Her tone made him glance down at her.

She was looking at her feet but lifting a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear.

Ryn, shy?

“Hey,” he called.

She tipped her eyes up to him.

And her next came even softer.

“Never had a guy tell me he liked my outfit before.”

He stopped dead.

Jesus, who were the losers she’d been spending time with?

She stopped with him and turned his way.

“You know you’re gorgeous,” he declared.

She had to, what she did for a living and how well she did financially doing it, even if she did give most of it away.

“I’m not hard on the eyes.”

“Kathryn, you’re a lot more than that. And you got style.” He grinned at her. “The fake fur is pushing it. You still work it.”

She leaned into him, just her upper body, putting her hand to his chest and tipping her head far back.

Now he wanted to kiss her.

“Have I told you I like you today?” she asked.

Now he really wanted to kiss her.

“No,” he answered.

“I like you, Boone. A lot.”

Fuck it, he was going to kiss her.

He did that, folding her deep in his arms, bumping her with the bags, and he didn’t care.

She didn’t either.

They went at it, but when they got a hoot and a catcall, he lifted his head.

But he kept his arms around her.

She had hers under his, hooked up his shoulder blades, her fingers in his shoulders.

“Brother’s for sandwiches?” he asked.

She nodded.

They pulled apart, and he adjusted the bags so he had a free hand. This meant he could hold hers as he walked her to the Charger. And he did.