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

were really no more than twigs this time of year. Once satisfied that nothing interesting lurked amid the brittle branches, she leaped out and charged down the lighted walkway to investigate the shadow and scent of a trash can.
    “Speaking of
serious
,” Anne said. “What’s up with her name? Is it a Harry Potter thing?”
    “That’s Sirius,” he said, referring to the infamous character, Sirius Black, otherwise known as the Prisoner of Azkaban. “She was originally named after Osiris, the Egyptian—”
    “God of the dead,” Anne filled in. “That’s morbid.”
    “Which is why I changed it,” Mike admitted. “I didn’t get her until long after she was named and apparently, she had a lot of health problems as a puppy. Call me superstitious, but I thought naming her after a god of death was a bad omen. And since Sirius is also the name of the brightest star in the night sky, I change it to just Sirus.”
    The dog’s scampering had started to slow and she was now sniffing the ground in search of a strategic location in which to do her business. Mike had a plastic bag in the opposite pocket of the one which he shared with Anne’s hand. He supposed picking up after his dog wasn’t the most romantic activity he could imagine, but Anne seemed to be getting to know the real him in all his complicated glory in one fell swoop. He’d told her about his Tourette’s, he’d acted on his compulsion to clean, and he was about to make sure his dog didn’t leave a deposit for some unsuspecting neighbor to step in. She was getting it all—good and bad—right from the start. He’d always been honest with the women he’d dated, but he couldn’t remember ever feeling quite so voluntarily exposed.
    But Anne certainly didn’t seem to mind.
    “So how old was she when you got her?”
    “She was eighteen months old. A rescue. For both of us.”
    “That’s the second time you’ve said that,” Anne pointed out.
    “Does it sound corny?”
    “No,” she replied, then laughed. “Okay, just a little. Still, it’s intriguing.”
    Mike watched Sirus jog over to a tree, sniffing at the roots with the intensity of a police dog rooting out drugs. He’d adopted Sirus at one of the lowest points in his life, but confessing as much to Anne seemed a bit like overkill. He’d already hit her with quite a bit tonight. The date. The Tourette’s. And yet, her openness was undeniable. And infectious.
    “It’s an old story that’s been told for generations,” he said, with a tad more drama than was warranted, just to drive the point home that his past, at this point, was nothing more than a distant tragedy that no longer drove his life. “A guy gets his heart stomped. He decides to fill the gap with a female who, thanks to careful breeding and training, does everything he says and never lets him down.”
    “I hope you don’t expect unwavering obedience from all the women in your life,” Anne said.
    Mike snorted. “If you met my mother or sisters, you’d never have to ask.”
    “Not exactly shrinking violets?”
    “They pretty much escaped the whole flower family. Except maybe belladonna,” he joked.
    “I like them already,” she concluded.
    “And they’d like you.”
    “How do you know?”
    “Because I like you.”
    And again, they were kissing. This time, Mike didn’t plan or strategize. Their bodies, leaned close against the cold, gravitated toward each other with a pull as natural as the moon and tides. Her chilly lips warmed under his, adding a layer of sweet, sensual awareness.
    He traced the edge of her mouth with his tongue and she instantly let him in, twisting so that he had full access. She tasted like mint and kissed with abandon. In his pocket, their hands tightened.
    And then, Sirus jumped across their laps on the bench.
    “Sirus! Bad dog!” he chided, half annoyed and half thankful that his pooch had interrupted a moment that could have gotten way more intense than he’d planned before their