He hesitates, scratching the back of his neck as his eyes fix on the pavement. “I might’ve… looked it up.”
“YouGoogledmy star sign?”
“Don’t make it weird.”
Something warm floods my chest. For a second, I forget we’re on a public street, forget anyone could drive by and see the way he’s looking at me.
I lunge at him before I can stop myself, looping my arms around his neck and pulling myself up until only my toes touch the ground and Dusty darts around us in circles.
“Poooookie.You googled my star sign,” I murmur into the soft skin under his jaw.
“Yeah, yeah.” His hands slide down to my hips, holding me there. “You done climbing me?”
“Depends.” I smirk. “You gonna let go?”
He looks at me like it’s the dumbest question he’s ever heard. “Not unless I have to.”
“Then don’t.” I close my eyes and breathe him in.
He doesn’t buy the whole star sign thing, but he still listens anyway, still tucks the information somewhere behind that gruff exterior. Keeps the pieces of me I leave lying around and hands them back when I forget they’re there. Never the guy belittling me, always the one playing along and making me feel seen.
Fuck, I love him so much.
I take another breath, then ease myself down to put distance between us. “You sure about this? About us?”
He huffs out a laugh. “Pretty sure I told you last night I loved you. Kinda hard to walk that back.”
“Good,” I say, biting my lip. “Because you’re definitely not the only one who’s fucked.”
He laughs, tugging gently on Dusty’s leash. “But right now? Neighbors. We’re just neighbors walking the dog.”
“Right,” I mumble, trying not to smile as we start walking again. “Totally normal neighbor behavior.”
“Completely innocent,” he agrees.
By the time we reach Eli and Tamara’s and let ourselves in, voices spill from the dining room—Zoe’s laugh, Hutchy’s low drawl, and Meadow’s running commentary.
Dusty trots ahead, his tail wagging. Miso, on the other hand, lets out a banshee screech from inside the room before we’ve even crossed the threshold.
“Sound the alarm,” Logan mutters under his breath. “Your demon niece dog knows I’m here.”
“She’s not a demon.”
“She wants blood.”
“She likes you,” I say, following him in. “She’s just particular.”
He shoots me a look. “So’s Satan.”
We step into the kitchen, and it’s every bit the circus I expect. Tamara’s at the stove flipping pancakes with Eli beside her, spatula in one fist and the expression of a man who’s accepted defeat.
Jake’s leaned back in his chair sipping coffee in one hand and Theo in the other, while Charlie slices up pancakes for Meadow, and Noah quietly stacks blueberries into a tower.
Chase and Zoe are perched by the counter, arguing about whether it’s too early for mimosas. Reid’s in the corner nursing coffee and his will to live.
“Finally!” Tamara says, flipping another pancake onto the growing pile. “About time you two showed.”
She looks up and her eyes land on me, then travel to the giant hoodie drowning me. One brow arches to the ceiling and her mouth curves. “Cute outfit, Lu.”
