“I’ve never had a pet in my life.”
The only ones I’m familiar with are the dogs Jericho and his partners have, one a rescue from a crime scene, who gets away with murder, and the other an assistance dog who doesn’t stray far from her charge. Neither of them are like a lizard in any way.
The lizard in question isn’t in the living room or what looks like a study slash spare room. We finally find him in what has to be Matthew’s bedroom. It’s covered in a mismatch of warm brown, beige, and green. Atop the tallboy is a large glass lizard enclosure that’s hanging inches off the drawers on either side. Perfectly balanced and not heavy enough either side to tip over. Not exactly the safest place in the world, but without children in the house, it’s not as much of an issue. I wouldn’t dare put something like that in my house, for fear of Olivia running into it or knocking it off.
“Found the thing,” Miles remarks. “Matthew said something about a smaller enclosure to carry it in?” Except there isn’t anything in the immediate vicinity.
“Wardrobe?”
Miles nods and strides over as I make my way to the enclosure to see if I can spot the pet among the logs, rocks, and greeneryin the glass tank. He’s near a bowl of water, dozing on the fake grass. He lifts his head at my approach, blinks at me, and then bobs his head twice, his neck expanding and retracting. I don’t know what that means. Matthew said he doesn’t bite, but that doesn’t mean he won’t biteme. Animals can be picky in that way.
Miles makes a weird, choked noise, and I twist, heart climbing into my throat and my hand moving to the weapon at my side.
“What’s wrong? What is it?”
Miles holds up a small Hawaiian shirt that has to have come from a doll of some kind. “Does hedress upthe lizard?”
“I have no idea.” The answer is clearly yes, though I can’t fathom why. “Are there other clothes in there?” I ask curiously. Maybe the shirt came with him from the pet store.
“Hats. Jackets. More shirts. A scarf? A bandana. That’s a hoody. Those arebunny ears. A shark outfit.” Miles blinks. “Does he need a therapist?” From the tone of his voice,hemight need one after this.
“It might be for the kids,” I reason. “They’d get a kick out of dressing up a lizard.” If there’s something in there with a skull or a fairy on it, Olivia would be overjoyed.
“Right.” Miles still looks sceptical. I can’t blame him even if my explanation is more than plausible. “Do we take it with us?”
“Probably best just to grab everything.” To be safe. I’m not coming back here because we forgot a comb or something. Or… a specific outfit. Today has been interesting, to say the least.
Miles holds up a pair of wings with an elastic band that must be used to secure them in place around the lizard. He arches his eyebrows at me. I snatch it and throw it onto the bed.
“Just find a bag somewhere and pack it up.”
“I can’t look away from it. Did I mention there’s a leash?”
“Did you find the carrier for him?”
“Yeah, here,” he says, absently handing it over, still looking through Augustus’ wardrobe with a kind of morbid fascination.I leave him to it, carefully transferring the lizard from his tank. He’s docile in my grip and lets me deposit him with ease. He does a circle and then lowers his head, watching me.
Miles has found a duffel bag and is shoving lizard items into it as well as clothing that is more human sized. When he catches me looking, he says, “He’ll need a change of clothes.”
He’s not wrong. Matthew won’t be able to come back here until we’ve sorted out this mess. It will be easy enough to get someone to come in and clean out his fridge, but he’ll need toiletries and clothing. Maybe a few books from the bookstand in the bedroom.
Whatever we forget, we can purchase for him if it’s urgent. Who knows how long this is going to last.
Matthew
Ishouldn’tbehere.I shouldn’t be doing this. But oh my God, this man can kiss. I’ve had some nice kisses in my life, ones that I’d even consider top tier, but they have nothing on the way Xavier is destroying me from the inside out. Slow, deliberate, heart pounding. It’s better than sex, which shouldn’t be a thing. I’ve never had bad sex. Most sex is good if you know what to put where and how to reach the end.
This is something else.
A whole new experience. One that’s making my knees weak, and I suddenly understand the jelly-leg phenomenon. It’s not a myth. It’s real. They should put that on the news bulletin.
Xavier nudges my nose with his, coercing me to tilt my head further, and then he does something with his tongue that flips my stomach. I can see why Hunter married him. I’m sure he has other fine qualities, but this one has to be part of the equation, right? Has to be. If there was a list, this should be in the top five. His incredible face should be there too. And that seductive smile. It’s probably a long list.
Hunter.
Hunter.
“No, wait—” I gasp. “We can’t—I mean—what about Hunter?” This feels like one of those things that really needs to be talked about. Everything is moving so fast, and I don’t understand what’s going on, and this just feels like it could use some kind of rational conversation. That involves tongues, but in a different way. For the talking part, not making out.
