Such was the hazard of sharing his life with a US Deputy Marshal.
He’d made a vow to himself long ago he’d never use Griff’s job or badge unless there was a solid, valid reason. Someone he’d known for a few years all of a sudden annoying him online was not solid or valid in Clint’s mind. Clint kept reminding himself Dylan was lonely and had no family. He was merely one of those people who didn’t get the concept of boundaries. That didn’t make him a criminal, just socially awkward.
Clint nearly jumped out of his skin when someone’s strong arm snaked around his waist and pulled him back against a firm body. Warm breath blew in his ear along with the words, “You left the door unlocked again. I could be the neighborhood whack job here to bludgeon you to death after defiling you.”
“You scared the crap out of me!” Clint yelped, trying to squirm away, but it was useless. “You’re the guy on this street with all the big guns.”
Behind him Griff chuckled and used one finger to move Clint’s hair away from his neck. He pressed a soft kiss to the spot. Clint glared down at the dogs. “And you two! You need watchdog lessons.”
Griff let go of Clint, turned him, and shook him by the shoulders for a second. “Lock the goddamn doors. Even if someone smashes through the storm door, you’ll at least hear them.” He raised his eyebrows and leaned away from Clint, letting him go. “For me. Please.”
“What you really don’t want is some moron busting up the storm door since you’d have to help me replace it,” Clint muttered.
Griff pointed up. “Hey, I happen to have a deep appreciation for that door. Notice I’m tactfully not mentioning how delightful you are when you work on a construction project?”
Clint burst out laughing. Griff’s blue-gray eyes twinkled, and the corners crinkled in the way Clint loved when Griff smiled. “Sorry I’m late,” Griff said, leaning down to pet the dogs.
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