Wow.
Now I couldn’t grab a few pieces of lingerie? What in the fuck was my problem.
I pushed myself, even pulling a lace bra into my fingers, holding it in midair. When I brought it to my nose, catching a sweet lingering hint of her perfume, the thought of being a voyeur hit me.
Next came the fact that she was far too gorgeous to be wearing cheap shit, which including every piece of clothing and her intimate apparel. She’d hate me even more for thinking that way, but she deserved better than cheap big box items or crapshe ordered off the internet. I made a mental note to change that.
But they’d do for now.
As I was getting ready to close the dresser drawer, something unusual caught my eye. Tugging it free, I realized it was a harness of some kind.
For Indiana.
There was writing on the side.
It took me a few seconds to realize what it said.
Emotional Support Animal.
I glanced down at Indiana, shaking my head. What the fuck?
CHAPTER 14
Sinclair
Woof.
By the time I’d pulled into my driveway, I’d become firmly convinced dogs were smarter than people. Or maybe they simply knew how to train their humans. Not that I belonged to him. Or vice versa.
Or what-the-hell-ever.
Yet during the drive, where Indiana had remained panting and paying attention to every turn in the road, I’d felt like I’d bonded with him. As much as a man like me could. I’d talked to him the entire time, not only questioning his mom’s motives but my own.
As well as trying to assimilate the reason the gunman had just happened to attack her store after I’d visited. Now, either after seeing me with Josette in the park or at the vet’s office, he’d laid out a plan that made absolutely no sense.
The moment I pulled up to the house, I experienced an even more powerful wave of anger.
Enzo’s car was missing.
What the fuck?
I’d explicitly told him to stay with Josette, uncertain I could trust anyone else with her. Yes, he’d called in reinforcements, two of my most trusted men, but that was beside the point. I wasn’t in the mood for anyone to disobey me.
The hard pound on the steering wheel with my fist did little to calm the rage. Indiana’s whine from beside me was a reminder that I had another unwanted guest soon to be staying at my house. The interruption would be detrimental, the break in routine nothing I should want.
Yet here we were.
“Alright, Indiana. This is your home for a little while. Do you think you can handle it?” At least I’d found a house in the Garden District with two acres of land, which allowed me privacy. The iron fence surrounding the property would prove helpful when allowing the pup to roam the property without fear.
He peered out the windshield at the front of the house. As he’d done when I’d packed up his mother’s things, he was sitting so silently without blinking I was worried he wasn’t breathing.
“I guess I’ll take that as a yes.” Thankfully, he huffed. But as soon as I opened the driver’s door, he wasn’t interested in waiting for a proper introduction, jumping over me and onto the aggregate.
If there was one thing about the dog, he could be some kind of comic relief. Climbing out, I scanned the entire front of thehouse as I did every time I returned home. While there was a detached four-car garage, I rarely parked inside. Too confining.
Indiana was currently sniffing every area of the property and I caught him more than once lifting his leg on every shrub and tree. Marking his territory.
Almost as I’d done with his mom.
