A Dreadful Meow-ment (MEOW FOR MURDER Book 2)

once he knows what I know, it will ultimately put him in danger.
I’ve spent the last twenty minutes espousing those same words—from the time it took us to get from Scooter Springs to a pizza place in Starry Falls, and believe you me, I hardly came up for air.
It’s as if Shep sank my feet into a pair of cement boots back at the Dirty Habit and now he’s ready to take me out on the lake and tip me over the boat. But being the stubborn mule of a man he is, he’s unrelenting in the shakedown that he’s about to pursue.
“Ooh, are we stopping in for pizza? Bowie like,” I tease. My plan is to load him up with carbs and roll him home so he can hibernate for the rest of the year. It might take me exactly that long to figure out what to do with this situation.
“We’re not.” He kills the engine and hops out. “I am. Don’t move.”
Shep’s not gone ten seconds before he’s back with a steaming box of pizza pie goodness that has me swooning far more than I have for any man.
Okay, so save for Shep, but I’m not interested in sharing that truth. There are just some secrets a girl has to take to the grave, and seeing that Shep has pried so far into my life that he’s unveiled my true identity, I think it’s only fair I keep a lid on the fact I might be crushing on him.
“I called it in,” he says as he lands it in the back seat. “Hope you like half pep, half sausage.”
“You called it in? When did you call it in?” I’m not sure why I’m taking umbrage with it, but it feels right, so I go with it.
“While you were busy espousing all the salty language known to man. I’m hungry, so I put in an order. I thought you might like pizza.”
“Oh?” I lean back to get a better look at him. “And why is that?”
He shrugs as we get back on the road. “Because you’re Italian.”
I suck in a quick breath. “You ordered me a pizza because I’m Italian? You do realize that’s an act of racism.”
“What?” He bites the air with the word. “I’m not a racist.”
“Sure you are. You racially profiled my dinner menu because you thought it would appease me on some level. Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate the effort, but that pizza back there? It’s basically a hate crime.”
He groans. “Are you always this difficult?”
“Only when I’m trying to impress a boy.” I scoff. “Look, I’m not the one that followed me to a dive bar in Scooter Springs and dragged me out of the establishment by the hair.”
“By the hand,” he corrects.
“And then you practically tied me to this seat.”
“I was helping you with your seatbelt. It’s the law and you were trying to—”
“Escape.”
“Does that mean you’re not coming to my place for a quick bite?”
“It depends what I’m biting.”
His eyes flit my way.
“Of course, I’m having a quick bite,” I say. “I have to know if this town has decent pizza. Tilly thinks I should add my own Italian flair to the menu at the café. And fair warning, I’m considering it. But FYI, I like a wide variety of food from many different countries. No need to pigeonhole me on a boot-shaped continent. What nationality do your people hail from? Maybe I can splash something on the menu for you.”
“The Emerald Isle.” He takes a moment to frown over at me. “I’m Irish.”
“Expect brisket and cabbage. In fact, I might just bake it like a calzone and call it a new twist on Shepherd pie. You’re welcome.”
“Okay, I get your point.” His cheeks flicker. “Just so you know, I like my brisket well-seasoned. The pie sounds like a nice touch.” He pulls into his driveway before his blue eyes flash my way with a sober air of getting down to business. “Are you ready to face the music?”
“Boy, you really know how to sweet talk a girl before you take her to your place. Pro tip: women don’t like to be threatened.”
“I’m not threatening you, Bowie. I’m asking if you’re ready to have a conversation with me. You don’t need to answer that. It’s already happening.”
A hard groan comes from me as I follow him—or more to the point, the scent of that pizza to his porch.
“Are you always this difficult?” I toss the question right back at him as he jiggles his key in his lock and swings the door open.
“Only when I’m trying to impress a girl.” His lips twitch with a smile as he holds a hand past me and into the house. “Ladies first.”
“Wow, I’ve gone from a girl to a lady in the very next sentence. I think that’s code for things are going to move fast once you get me inside.”
Not that I’d object.
Shep flicks on the lights and I’m treated to a mountain man wonder.
I’ve never actually been inside Shep’s cabin, seeing that I’ve never been invited.
It has a masculine appeal with its dark floors and dark furniture. Chocolate brown leather sofas sit in front of a rustic fireplace with round stones laid over it that reach the ceiling. This place is twice the size of my cabin and has butter yellow walls that give it a homey appeal. The slight hint of his cologne lingers in the air, warming the place, and it strangely gives me a false sense of safety.
“Nice love den,” I say.
“I try,” he says as he leads us to the sofa, and soon we’re gobbling down slices of pepperoni with extra cheese with the zest of two people who have never seen food before. He washes his down with a beer and I opt for a soda.
Shep leans back as he examines me with those icy eyes as if he’s looking for dessert. And believe me, I’d much rather give him a piece of me physically than anything