He sealed his lips together, making me more nervous.Shit, what else did he do?
“Okay, here’s what we willnotdo. We will not accuse a man of being a serial killer just because we don’t know him.” I eyed Langston with suspicion. “What else happened?”
He avoided my eyes. “While he was taking out his trash, I may or may not have made sure he saw me, and I did the whole eye-point thing to let him know I’m always watching.”
My lips in a tight line, all I could do was stare at my friend in utter exasperation. At least he didn’t tie the guy up so he couldn’t go out on the date at all.
He shook his head. “None of that matters, though, because he’s not her type, and nothing will happen between them.”
I scoffed. “So now you’re a stalkerandclairvoyant?”
“Careful,” he muttered with a dark look my way. The heat from earlier came roaring back to life, making my cock twitch beneath my boxer briefs. “Your Juno wouldn’t go for someone that weak.”
“My Juno?” I arched a brow.
“Are you denying it?”
“No,” I drawled. “It’s just….” I wanted to hear him say “our Juno,” but baby steps. He would get there. Eventually. Hopefully.
“She needs someone like you.” Langston shot a look at Dax. “And you need to get your fucking act together and make a move on Finley before it’s too late.”
“Whatever,” Dax grumbled. “I’ll handle my own shit; you handle yours. Fin and I have been friends for too long. Making that shift to more isn’t in the cards for us, and?—”
Whatever he was going to say next was cut off by his high-pitched screech as he leapt up and bolted around the coffee table. Eyes wide, Dax gaped at the couch.
“What the fuck was that?” he panted, the burst of adrenaline having made his heart race.
Brows pulled in tight, I tried to figure out what the hell just happened when a fluffy white tail whipped out from beneath the couch. With a loud laugh, I pointed to where the tip still peeked out.
“Ah, that would be GG.”
Dax looked at me in utter confusion. “What do you mean, GG?”
I could feel Langston’s stare burning into the side of my head.
Here was the thing with Langston. He wanted everyone to think he was this tatted-up hard-ass who didn’t give a shit about anyone but himself, but that wasn’t even remotely true. He cared about the people he considered family almost to the point of his own downfall. Most importantly, he didn’t want anyone to know that his weakness—other than cookie dough, Mattie, me, and I guess Juno now—was his precious GG.
His fucking prissy-ass, all-white Persian cat.
Her name was Gorgeous Girl, or GG for short, though mostly because I refused to call her by her full name—it just inflamedher ego. Anchor Bay’s notorious asshole Langston Allen gave the name to the entitled feline after his sister gifted him the cat.
And like her owner, GG had a massive attitude problem and didn’t like anyone, hence Dax screaming. She’d either bitten or swiped at his ankles while he sat on the couch.
Knowing Langston wanted to keep his favorite pussy a secret, I told the lie I had used before.
“My cat,” I sighed, hating my fucking life at the moment.
Langston’s shoulders dropped from around his ears.
“She’s yours?” Dax asked. I slowly nodded. “Why do you own a demon cat? Nope, scratch that. Why do you own a cat at all?”
I shrugged, not really having the energy to come up with some elaborate lie to help conceal Langston’s furry friend. Eyeing the stuffed pack on the kitchen counter, I headed toward it, curious to see what supplies he’d actually packed.
“Binoculars?” I chuckled as I pulled the heavy Army green item free and reached inside to find more. “A big-ass knife?—”
“Always be prepared,” Langston muttered, plopping back down in his chair. GG immediately slid out from beneath the couch and leapt up into his lap. Dax watched the white fluffball with suspicion, like it might attempt another attack.
I held up the roll of silver duct tape. “Seriously?”
