𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 [18+]

- 38 -

He's lapping up all of her attention like he owns her. My fucking dog. My Gunner. And she's giving him all of her softness. The kind of softness she hides from me, fights against when it comes to me.

Slamming the fridge shut, I run a hand through my hair and start grabbing the ingredients for pasta. The clatter of the pan against the stove drowns out her giggles, but not enough. I can still hear her talking to him in that sweet voice, her voice.

"Gunner, you're so cute when you're not trying to kill people."

Fucking hell. What about me, Zara?

I chop the garlic with way too much force, my grip on the knife tightening.

Behind me, she's still laughing, still giving him every ounce of her affection while he sits there like a fucking king, soaking it all up. The traitor.

I swear to God, if that damn dog wasn't my best friend, I'd throw his ass outside right now.

I clear my throat, trying to pull her attention back to me. "You're lucky he likes you," I say, my voice coming out rougher than I intended.

"Mm?" She finally looks up, her fingers still running through his fur.

I narrow my eyes at her. "He doesn't like people."

She tilts her head, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Well, he likes me."

My grip tightens around the spatula.

Half an hour later, I finish plating the pasta, making sure it's fucking perfect. Rich, creamy sauce, the right amount of seasoning, freshly grated parmesan on top—everything done to perfection. If food is the way to her heart, then so be it.

I set the plate down on the table, letting the aroma do the work.

"Come eat, baby girl," I call out, making sure my voice is smooth and deep. The kind that makes her react.

She barely looks up, still tangled up with Gunner. My fucking patience thins. Oh, hell no.

I grab a piece of chicken from the counter and toss it toward Gunner's bowl. "Here, buddy."

The second the treat lands, Gunner perks up, his head snapping toward the food. Instinct kicks in. He bolts for it, finally releasing her from his trance.

Zara frowns slightly. "Hey, I wasn't done with him."

I smirk, pulling out her chair. "But I'm done waiting for you."

Her eyes flick to the pasta, then to me. She hesitates, then sighs, standing up and making her way over. "You're cute when you beg for my attention."

I pull out her chair like the fucking gentleman I am. "You're even cuter when I make you beg for something else."