Free Hard to Hold (True Romance) by Julie Leto Page A

into. If your hand inadvertently brushes over my ass, I promise to ask if you meant it before I sock you. Or kiss you.”
    The scant distance between them disappeared in an instant and Anne reveled in the soft, tentative feel of Mike’s mouth on hers again. He slid his fingers beneath the hem of her jacket and encircled her waist, his grip possessive and one-hundred percent steady.
    She speared her hands into his hair, invigorated to learn that his black curls were just as thick and soft as she’d anticipated. She sighed and parted her lips, experiencing an explosion of sensation when their tongues touched, twirled, and tangled.
    And then, he used his confident hold on her waist to break the kiss.
    “Is it hot in here or is it just me?”
    “Not just you,” she said. “But maybe I am bundled up like an Eskimo.”
    “Let’s get outside before you melt, then,” he suggested.
    Or before she lured him to her bed. Either way, leaving was probably a very good idea.
    There had been occasions in Mike’s life when he’d felt like he could take on the world. When he’d gotten into the college of his choice after struggling through high school. When he’d scored his dream job upon graduation. But none of those victories came close to the injection of elation that lightened his steps as he walked to the park with Sirus tugging at the end of her leash and Anne Miller strolling beside him. He’d already kissed her. Twice. And despite his anxiety over accidentally tugging her too hard on account of his Tourette’s, he’d taken her hand the moment they’d crossed the threshold out of their apartment building. Keeping himself from touching her was as impossible as warding off the cold during a frigid February.
    Though the reading on the thermometer mounted outside the bank on the corner near the park was in the teens, warmth flooded through his system—starting at the spot where his fingers tangled with Anne’s. They found a bench beneath a tree and let Sirus off her leash. He commanded the dog to sit, and then reminded her to stay where he could see her before sending her off with a wave of his hand.
    “Does she understand you?” Anne asked, her skepticism unhidden.
    “She never goes far,” Mike replied. “And she’ll come right back if I call her.”
    “She’s a smart girl,” she said.
    “I got lucky. Rescue dogs can be unpredictable, but she was easy to train and just wants to be loved. Did you have dogs growing up?”
    “No,” Anne said, her voice dripping with regret. “My parents worked a lot and we weren’t home much. It wasn’t fair to have a dog just to lock it up in a cage or a backyard. At least, that was my parents’ argument when my brother and I whined a lot.”
    “They were right,” Mike agreed. Since it was so cold, he scooted closer to Anne and shifted his jacket so that he could tuck his hand—and hers—into his pocket. He hadn’t imagined the gesture would be so intimate, but it was. Her eyes widened for a split second before she grinned and relaxed into the curved bench.
    “So you got Sirus when you were in Portland, right?”
    “Yeah,” he said, trying to remember the details, because at the moment, his brain was befuddled by the feel of Anne’s shoulder pressed against his. “My job there was really flexible. Most days, she actually came to the office with me. I can’t do that here. I’m going to have to find someone to help me with her.”
    At that moment, Sirus bounded out of a bush, startled, as if she’d sensed something that might require chasing should it appear in the next few seconds. With her front paws spaced out, her legs rigid and her head cocked, she looked every bit the hunting dog that Weimaraners had been bred to be.
    Anne leaned in so that her voice was a whisper. “She looks so serious.”
    Mike inhaled the heady scent of Anne’s shampoo. “To a dog, play is serious business.”
    With nothing to chase, Sirus spun and dashed back into the bushes, which