Across the street, Maryann slipped out of the door next to the ice cream shop and hurried toward her ancient Honda parked on the street. She was leaving early today. Molly watched her go, holding back a growl when she saw Maryann get in her car and pull away from the curb. There went her chance to talk to the bail-jumper’s sister.

“You’re such a happy dog, aren’t you?” John cooed. “Not all crabby like your owner.”

Molly rolled her eyes hard enough that she was surprised they didn’t spin right out of her skull. “I’m not crabby.” She hesitated, honesty pushing her to add, “Well, not to most people.”

With a snort, John gave Warrant a final belly scratch before straightening to his full—and significant—height. Crossing over, he took the spot next to her on the bench, and Molly fought the urge to shift to give him more room. He was just so darn huge, with biceps as big as her head and thighs like muscled tree trunks. His ridiculously enormous body took up almost the entire bench. “I’m special, then?”

“Special’s one word for it,” she muttered. Aggravating was another. So were flirty, distracting, and confusing, although she wasn’t about to admit to any of the last three. Forcing her brain back to the job at hand, she snuck another quick glance across the street. Even though Maryann had left, Molly kept a furtive eye on the shops as she pretended to watch the kids playing on the jungle gym. She hoped that her unwelcome companion would wander away if she ignored him.

“So…how’ve you been?”

Of course he didn’t wander away. She should’ve known better. John Carmondy was as hard to get rid of as head lice—and twice as irksome. The fact that her pulse did a weird skittery hop of excitement every time she saw him just annoyed her more. Shooting an irritated glance his way, she saw he was gazing across the street at the ice cream shop, the corner of his mouth tucked in as if he was trying to hold back a grin. He wasn’t fooling anyone, though. The deep crease of his dimple gave him away.

Her sigh sounded more like a groan. “Did you want something, or do you have some kind of daily annoyance quota you need to fill?”

When he laughed, she couldn’t help but dart another quick look in his direction. The harsh lines of his face—the square jaw and dark, intense eyes and bumpy nose that had obviously been the target of a fist or two in the past—were softened by his full lips, the lush sweep of his long eyelashes, and that stupidly appealing dimple. Someone that attractive shouldn’t be so incredibly irritating, but that was John Carmondy in a nutshell: ridiculously pretty and just as ridiculously obnoxious.

“Oh, Pax…such a jokester.” He continued before she could protest that she was completely serious. “What’s happening in your life? It’s been a while since we last got together, and I want to know everything. That’s what good friends do. They share thoughts and ideas and feelings with each other. So share, my good friend. Whatcha up to?” He turned toward her, slinging his arm over the back of the bench so that his enormous hand rested behind her. Although she tried to ignore it, she couldn’t help but shiver. She tried to tell herself it was her imagination, but it felt like the heat from his arm was burning the skin of her back like a brand.