Page 59 of Puppy Kisses

Adam nodded. “There you go. Ten percent off will save you four hundred and fifty-six bucks. Not bad, considering the puppy’s state when she was brought in. The antibiotics alone set you back several thousand. Will that be cash or check?”

“Now, see here—”

“We also offer payment plans, but you’ll need to provide us with your social security number so we can do a credit check first.”

Adam felt Murphy draw close. It was a move designed to intimidate, he was sure, a puffed-up chest pressing near to his own, but Adam pretended not to notice.

“We also provide high-nutrient puppy food that you can purchase directly from us, or you can make your own arrangements with the feed store in town. Either way, we’ll need you to sign the contract stating your intentions to continue her care plan.”

“Antibiotics? Payment plan? Contract?” The man’s breath was warm and sour and filled with flecks of his spittle, but Adam didn’t back down. “I didn’t ask nobody for any of that.”

“Youmay not have, but my good friend Harold Jenkins at the County Sheriff’s Department did.” The game was up, Adam now determined to end this. As much fun as it was to taunt a man who clearly didn’t know a bluff when it stood up to him, making sure Dawn and Gigi were safe was the real focus here. “If you want your puppy back, you can either cover the full cost of her treatment, or you can take it up with him. Those are your options.”

“But I didn’t… You can’t do this—”

“I can and I have,” Adam said, his jaw tight. “I don’t have any cards on me, and we both know how useless my associate here is, but if you have a pen, you can take down my name and address for the payment. It’s Adam Dearborn of Dearborn Ranch. We’re located at—”

“I’m not giving you five thousand dollars for my own fucking dog!”

“You’re right. You aren’t. You’re going to turn around, get back in your truck, and drive back to whatever miserable hole it is you crawled out of.” He could feel Dawn straighten next to him, her stance echoing his own. “You won’t stalk this woman, and you won’t make any attempts to see or touch that puppy ever again. Men like you don’t deserve to be anywhere near animals. Or women, for that matter.”

“You fucking bastard. You have no idea who you’re dealing with, do you?” The spittle flew with renewed vigor, but Adam didn’t back down. He withdrew a handkerchief from his back pocket and carefully wiped his mouth instead.

“Yes, I do. I took your measure the second that puppy was placed in my arms. Anyone who treats a vulnerable animal like that is both a fool and a coward.” He allowed a slow smile to spread across his face. “The real question is, do you have any idea whoyou’redealing with?”

The answer to that was an obviousno. Murphy had clearly stepped out of his truck expecting to intimidate the pair of them, to leverage their fear into getting his own way. But that was his first mistake. Adam Dearborn wasn’t someone who intimidated easily.

Neither was Dawn Vasquez.

“I’m not really as dumb as I let on,” she said as if to prove it. “I know where you live, Murphy Jones. I know you carry illegal firearms. I know you haven’t paid your taxes in years, and we both know that Sheriff Jenkins would love any excuse he can find to haul you in.”

Murphy’s only response to that was a glib “fuck you.”

“No, my friend. Fuck you.” She touched Adam’s arm. “Come on, Adam. Let’s go. I don’t want to waste another minute of my life on this scumbag.”

He gave a curt nod and made a move to return to the passenger seat. He had no idea how much of what she’d just said was true, but she sounded convincing enough to him. It would take a much stronger man than he—and, he was guessing, Murphy Jones—to stand up to the fire in that woman’s voice.

But she wasn’t done. Before she made it very far, she halted and added, “Oh. And if I ever drive by your house to find another animal being abused, you’d better pray that I decide to call in the authorities rather than take matters into my own hands again.”

Murphy heaved an inarticulate grunt. “I ain’t scared of you.”

“You should be,” Dawn said simply. There was no sign of emotion in her voice, no tremor of nerves as she confronted a man who had to be at least twice her size. “I make a mean Molotov cocktail, and my aim is impeccable. Good day, Mr. Jones. I hope I never have cause to meet you again.”

There was nothing Adam could say or do to top that, so he didn’t even try. All he did was raise his hand in a cheerful farewell and slide back into the car. The sound of the truck roaring to life behind them was followed by a screech of tires and a honk of several horns as Murphy presumably pulled back onto the road.

Dawn wasn’t long in joining him. However, she didn’t, as he expected, get behind the wheel. No sooner did he register the passenger door being opened than he felt the warm press of her body pouncing onto his lap.

“What the—?” he began.

The door slammed shut, shaking the small car and trapping them both in place. With a finesse that had to be practiced, Dawn reached down and pulled the lever that moved the seat back as far as it could go. The extra legroom was nice, but it hardly mattered when she began ruthlessly kissing him.

Dawn was always a passionate woman, but the way her lips moved over his went beyond anything they’d shared before. She didn’t swoop in with her tongue, the way she did when it had been a long time since their last meeting. Nor did she nibble playfully at his lips, the way she preferred when trying to rouse him to action only minutes after he’d already climaxed. This was a soft, warm, heavy planting. Her lips pressed down on his as though she were breathing life into him—or possibly breathing life out of him. He couldn’t tell which, and to be perfectly honest, he didn’t care. If she was a succubus sent to destroy him, to pull the very air out of his lungs and the life out of his chest, then so be it.

Adam couldn’t think of a better way to go.

But she pulled back just as his senses were starting to grow dizzy, her hands pressed against his cheeks to hold him in place. He was pinned and trapped at every turn. She straddled him with thighs bare and hot from the summer sun, the full weight of her body on top of his. She was looking at him too, he knew. There was no other reason for her to hold him like that, so quiet and yet so alive. Her pulse thrummed against his leg, her breath coming hard and fast, her heat intoxicating.

But still she didn’t move.