Bad Things (Tristan & Danika #1)(41)

“Fuck, what was that?” he panted.

“That was crazy,” I gasped. “And stupid. Especially stupid.”

“If that was your first attempt at winning the teasing war, I’m not sure if you just won or lost it all with one try.”

In spite of myself, I giggled. “There is no teasing war. Get that out of your head. This is not a contest. This is a disaster that never needs to happen again.”

“Seriously, though, if I wake up to that again, I’m not sure what I’ll do, Danika.”

“It won’t happen again, so don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

“And what if I…accidentally start jerking myself off in my sleep?”

“Stop it. You’re incorrigible.”

“And you are the queen of all teases. You know I’ll never get that picture out of my head…Fuuuuck. Do you have any idea how much this messes with me?”

I sighed. “I think I have a pretty good idea, Tristan. Can we just…never mention this again?”

“I can try, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be thinking about it.”

“Yeah, I know.” There was no way I’d ever forget the look on his face as he’d helped me get myself off.

“Just let me ask you one thing, before I drop the subject forever.”

I blew my breath out in a noisy sigh. “Go for it.”

“What started that?”

“I was having a…sex dream. I think I can feel some sympathy for the wet dream thing guys have now.”

“Was it about anyone specific?” he sounded more than idly curious.

“No,” I lied through my teeth. “And that was more than one question.”

“One more, I swear, and then I’m done. What was the dream about?”

“I was getting oral on a floatie in the pool.”

He cursed fluently, and he didn’t ask me any more questions.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The next ‘stupid’ incident started with an unexpected package, a chicken murdering hound, and the dog chase from hell.

Ivan was at the table, working on his daily journal entry, and Mat was busy scribbling in one of his coloring books.

It was raining out, a summertime Vegas flash flood, but it was still hot as hell. I wore a thin white tank top, and my favorite sassy pants shorts.

I was just correcting Ivan’s spelling when the doorbell rang. I shot an annoyed look at Jerry’s closed office door. He and Tristan had been in there for hours, discussing supposed ‘band’ things, but it was the closest room to the front door, and I was right in the middle of lessons, so it seemed to me that one of them should answer it.

As though they’d read my mind, the office door opened, and both men stepped out, serious looks on their faces, as though they really had been discussing ‘important business’.

Tristan opened the front door, greeting the UPS guy. UPS guy needed a signature, so Tristan stepped back, opening the door wider. Jerry moved in to sign.

My last thought right before all hell broke loose was how strange it was that no dogs had crowded at the front entrance as soon as they’d heard the doorbell.

One lone bastard of a dog shot straight from the hallway and out the front as though he’d been planning for just this moment.

“Coffeecup!” I shouted, pointing like a crazy woman.

Everyone just turned and stared at me, instead of at the dog I’d been yelling about. Perfect.

I grabbed a leash off its hook in the hallway by the kitchen, shoving my feet into a pair of Bev’s running shoes. I was following that crazy dog out the door in less than thirty seconds.

Please let the chickens be locked up tight, please let the chickens be locked up tight, was a mantra in my head as I booked it across the neighborhood.

I was a fast runner. I went to great pains to stay in good shape, and jogged outside whenever the weather allowed. Which was why I was surprised when Tristan was suddenly running beside me, and then passing me.

I wasn’t sure when he’d left the house, but I was sure it’d been after I had.

I saw a flash of spotted brown fur at the corner of my vision, and turned on my heel. We were still several house rows away from the stables, which meant we actually had a shot at saving some chickens.

Coffeecup hesitated at one house, sniffing out something, and I pounced, diving for him. The rain had already made his coat slick and wet, and he wriggled out of my arms before I could get the leash on his collar.

I screamed curses at him as I scrambled back to my feet, resuming the chase.

I nearly cheered as Tristan intercepted him in the muddy ditch that led up and directly into the stables. He gripped the dog’s collar, hooting with laughter. We were sharing rather smug smiles as I approached, when Coffeecup pulled a ninja dog move and slipped out of his collar, darting for the stables.

Tristan tackled him, grabbing him around the chest to hold him back.

I dug into the mud for his collar, glaring at the stupid dog while I tightened it around his neck, one rung tighter than the last time, since it had apparently been loose enough for him to slip out of. I clipped the leash on, still catching my breath.

“You look like you couldn’t decide whether you wanted to mud wrestle, or be in a wet T-shirt contest,” Tristan said with a laugh, having to shout to be heard over the downpour.