One Hit Wonderful by Hannah Murray Page A

steady her, but the heel of his worn and muddy sneaker caught a puddle of spilled paint. His legs shot out, his arms shot up and he went skidding into both of them like a bowling ball aiming for the last two pins on the lane.
    Beau yipped, Lily screeched, and they all went down in a pile of arms and legs and paint roller and fur.
    “Fuck.” Nate’s head bounced off the tile and had him seeing stars. Beau whined and tried to get up, pushing the bulk of his considerable weight into Nate’s lower abdomen. He cursed again, groaning as the dog slipped and fell back into his lap, and in self-defense curled a hand into his collar.
    “Are you all right?” he heard Lily ask from the vicinity of his knees, and looked down.
    She was lying half under the dog and half over him, her neck arched over his shin and the top of her head resting on the floor. She had paint on her face. “Ah…fine,” he managed, and struggled up onto his elbows while keeping a vise grip on the dog. “How’re you?”
    “Oh fine. Just hanging around.”
    For a second neither of them said anything, the silence only broken by Aretha’s soulful voice crooning about Dr. Feelgood, then they both burst out laughing at the same time. Beau whined and tried to lick both their faces. Lily laughed harder, her whole body shaking with it.
    Nate finally managed to sit up and lever Beau off his lap. “Sit!” he commanded, pulling up with the hand on his collar, pushing his rump down with the other, and with an oddly human groan, Beau complied.
    Nate turned back to find Lily pushing herself up and quickly grasped her elbow, easing her into a sitting position.
    “Thanks,” she said, laughter warming her voice. Her brown eyes danced, sparkling in the light as she pushed her hair off her forehead. Her full lips were unpainted and curved in a smile he was sure she had no idea was as sexy as it was silly.
    It was the first and only time he could recall getting an erection with the smell of wet dog in his nostrils.
    Think of something else, he ordered himself, and sat up. “What happened?”
    She shrugged, a lock of paint-streaked hair falling over her forehead into her eyes. It made his fingers twitch to stroke it aside.
    “I don’t know,” she said, and held up her hands in a gesture of helplessness. “One minute I’m grooving along with Aretha and painting, the next I’ve got a hundred and fifty pounds of wet dog trying to climb into my lap.”
    He grimaced and eyed Beau, who had the grace to look sheepish. Jackass, he thought. Out loud he said, “I’m sorry, the storm spooked him and he got away from me in the park.”
    “Oh, poor baby,” she crooned, and reached out to scratch Beau behind the ears. “Were you afraid the thunder would get you?”
    “He’s lucky a Ford pickup didn’t get him,” Nate muttered. “I’m not sure how he got in the door downstairs though.”
    “Oh, that might be my fault,” she said, still petting the dog. “I came in with my arms full earlier and kicked it shut. It might not have been closed all the way.”
    “And the apartment door?”
    She grinned at him. “I left it open, so I could get the cross breeze from the window on the landing.”
    “Ah.” He grinned at her all of the sudden. “You know, you’re wearing a lot of paint.”
    She grinned back. “Yeah? So are you.” She reached out and stroked her fingers down the side of his neck, holding them out for him to see the streaks of purple on them.
    “Nice color,” he said, and glanced up at the wall she had half done. “It’ll look nice in here when it’s finished.”
    “I think so,” she said then laughed. “I didn’t get as far as I wanted with it.”
    He chuckled. “I guess not.” He got to his feet and held out a hand. “I could give you a hand with it tomorrow, if you like.”
    “I’d like that,” she said, and put her hand in his. She shivered as he pulled her to her feet.
    “Cold?” he asked with a frown. It was a warm night, even with