I look down to where the puppy still has his big paws in the air and his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. My heart softens. ‘But what if Ma really won’t let me?’
‘Then he can live with me, but be yours,’ he offers easily. ‘You know I live on my own.’
‘He’s a Ridgeback,’ Dr Aimee says, with a question to her tone. ‘He’ll be a big boy.’
‘Even better.’ Ryker smiles widely. ‘Chihuahuas are mean. Small dog syndrome is a real thing.’
‘Do you want the day to think about it?’ Dr Aimee offers.
‘Yes,’ I say as Ryker assures her, ‘No.’
He turns to look at me. ‘It’s alright. Trust me. This guy’s gonna be the best friend ever, I can tell.’ He turns back to Dr Aimee. ‘I’ll sign the papers.’
‘I’ll still need to monitor him tonight,’ Dr Aimee says. ‘He was very dehydrated. You can pick him up tomorrow.’
‘That’s fine,’ Ryker says.
‘I’ll get the paperwork ready.’ Dr Aimee adjusts her glasses before turning away.
‘I can’t believe this,’ I mutter. Ma is absolutely going to kill me. But when I look down at the puppy’s big paws and brown eyes, I know she’ll fall in love with him too. Like Ryker said, she’ll come around.I hope.
‘What should we name him?’ I ask Ryker, watching as he revs up the pup.
He looks the puppy over and pokes at his pod belly. ‘He’s a bit chunky. What about that?’
‘Chunky?’ I frown. ‘You can’t name a dog Chunky.’
I don’t know why I even asked, given his new nickname formeisn’t any good.
‘Chuckie then?’
I’m about to shrug his suggestion off, then stop. ‘That’s perfect.’
After giving Chuckie another squeeze, I put him back in the kennel and Dr Aimee hooks him up for more fluids. Ryker signs all the paperwork and pays the adoption fee.
We leave, the door jingling behind us. The smile still lingers on my face until we see the Camino. My jaw nearly hits the ground at the green paint splashed across the windscreen and hood. A commotion behind us makes me turn. I see the Empire City boys from yesterday hanging out the windows of an Aston Martin.
‘Booker Bay trash!’ they bellow with laughter.
Ryker’s hands become fists as he rushes after them, but their vehicle pulls away with a smoky trail. He turns to me with worry shining in the depths of his eyes.
‘Why are you on Erik Lasso’s shit list?’ Ryker’s voice turns serious.
My eyes widen.Damn it. ‘Is that who that is?’
Everyone knows Erik Lasso’s reputation, but not because he’s ECU’s star point guard and not because his dad played in the NBA, but because he plays dirty. I know The Prank isn’t exactly clean … but throwing toilet paper on a building is a lot different to breaking a defenseman’s nose. Erik’s the type of guy you cross the street to avoid. I didn’t know what Erik looked like, but even if I did, I would still have stopped him and his friends from hurting Chuckie.
‘We were acquainted yesterday morning, when they were attacking Chuckie,’ I explain.
Ryker’s nostrils flare. ‘We’ll deal with him later.’ He frowns at the paint. ‘We’d better get this shit off before it dries and does damage. Keys.’
He holds out his hands, and I toss him the keys. He opens the door for me before climbing into the driver’s seat. We take a left and drive to the self-service car wash. Jumping out of the vehicle, Ryker hands me a few dollar bills.
‘Can you turn the machine on, Little Suspect?’
Heat rushes to my cheeks at the nickname rolling so easily off his tongue now. At the machine, I fiddle with the options until I hear a spray of water hitting the truck. I turn and can’t help my eyes from travelling down Ryker’s body. His black t-shirt rides up with his movements, revealing his toned abs and a deep V that leads …Oh my god. Again? Get it together, Gia.
My throat goes dry and I fight between the opposing urges to look and to look away.
