Page 49 of The Way We Were Always Meant To Be

You didn’t.

I’m aware of what it is—the date she won—but I’m still not its number one fan.

With a new sense of direction, I cross the street with Pickles and stride toward them.

I’m not jealous, not by a long shot, because Lucy has nothing on me in any department as far as I’m concerned.

It’s not that she isn’t pretty; she is. She’s just obnoxious and a pie stealer, which is why I have a problem with her. It’s not the first time I’ve had issues with Lucy and her innocent act where she poses like she’s simple-stupid, but she’s conniving and uses her so-called lack of smarts to get away with things.

She’s not fooling me, and she’s definitely not getting Dodger within her clutches, not that I’d think she’d be able to.

I would rather he not be associated with her in any capacity, but that’s not going to happen either when he’s the sheriff.

“Afternoon, town people,” I greet cheerily even though I want to take Lucy’s uneaten sub and slap her across the face with it. “Lucy, honey, I’m still waitin’ on that money you owe me for the pies.”

Dodger doesn’t bother to turn around to look up at me. He knows.

I’m trouble, and I already have a standing with Lucy and her idiocy.

“AK,” he warns. “Not today.”

Pickles nudges Dodger’s arm, forcing him to pay attention because he’s bonded with him, and I have no idea how. All Dodger has done is chase him with a hose, fed him, and bought him a leash, collar, and name tag.

Oh, and rescued him from the storm.

I’ve loved on him with cuddles, which Pickles doesn’t really appreciate, so I’ve backed off a bit, but still.

I’m the one who wanted to rescue him. But I don’t speak dog, so I have no way of passing that message along. Apparently, he’s into toxic energy and emotional distress.

“Adeline,” Lucy replies with a bit of irritation in her tone, her dark brown eyes shoot daggers at me. “I told ya, hun, I don’t know what you mean.”

We can play this game all day.

However, I’m fully aware I’ll never see the cash for the pies she half-ate. I’m just here because she’s actually eating lunch with my guy, and Dodger is playing into it by doing it.

Which is annoying, but, again, I understand why.

It doesn’t mean I can’t ruin it, though.

“I guess we’ll need to get cameras for the next time,” I allude, stepping closer to Dodger and lifting Pickle’s leash over his head so my dog can get on his left side. “That way, there’s no confusion, and we’ll have evidence in case we need to press charges.”

I gracefully sit in Dodger’s lap, able to get my thigh between his knee and the table before placing my butt on his.

But I’m not done yet.

Not by a long shot.

“This is a cute little setup,” I divulge like I care, looking up at the umbrella and the potted, pink geraniums. But really, I’m sliding my butt between Dodger’s legs and sitting right in the spot that has me feeling how hard his dick is getting.

I hear a small grunt from his lips when I finally get positioned exactly where I want and pick up his sub.

Steak and cheese.

Not my favorite, but I’ll eat.

Taking a bite of the toasted bread, tender meat, and melted cheese, I hum my appreciation for Mr. Nemo’s lunchtime favorite around here.

“So good,” I drawl as I cover my mouth with my hand. “What did ya get, Luc?”