by Lauren Layne
Chapter Eighteen
“You only get one, Ri.”
She scowled. “Says who?”
“Me. Everyone who knows you. Your landlord.”
Riley looked down at the adorable puppies, knowing she’d never be able to choose between the one with the black tail and the one with the two black front paws.
She’d just as soon choose one breast to keep. (The left one. The right one had developed a right, downward slope sometime after twenty-five.)
“You can’t just decide to get a dog on a whim, you know,” he said.
“Sure I can. And it’s not a whim. I’ve always wanted one. It just happened to be today that Grace called and said her mother’s friend had a litter of my very favorite dog breed of all time right when I’m finally in a pet-friendly apartment.”
“You don’t even have a leash. Or food. Or toys. Or flea medicine, or a brush.”
“Don’t worry. There are these crazy, faddish new shops called pet stores that might be able to hook me up.”
“You’re so irresponsible,” he muttered, reaching down to pet one of the tiny dogs, his big finger dwarfing it, and her brain went gooey.
And she was definitely no closer to picking just one.
“You pick,” she said, giving a woe-is-me sigh.
“No way. I’m here for moral support. And to make sure you don’t walk out of here with an entire pack.”
The way Sam gingerly scooped up the one with the black tail and scratched it behind the ears like a legit dog lover belied his motives.
It also hit on the other reason she was here.
Riley really did want a dog. She’d been yammering about it for months, and despite what Sam thought, she did have a few supplies. There was an adorable Tiffany collar, a handcrafted food and water bowl set, and though she’d never let the poor creature wear it in public, a fuzzy pink sweater.
Basically, the essentials.
She even had the name: Pippy.
But Pippy would need a friend. And that was the other reason she was here. It was time to topple Sam’s self-imposed loner status. The man clearly had commitment issues and worthiness issues and who knew what else thanks to his shrew of a mother, and what better way to help him heal than regular sex, and the unconditional love that only a dog could give?
“I guess I’ll take this little lady,” she said, lifting the black-pawed puppy who was trying her best to sink her tiny teeth into the heel of Riley’s new boots.
A small line appeared between Sam’s eyebrows as he looked down at black tail. “But this guy has so much personality.”
“When it comes to males, personality is a euphemism for stubborn ass,” she said, climbing to her feet. “I don’t need another one of those guys in my life.”
She snuck a glance out of the corner of her eye, assessing whether her gut had been right. One glance at his sappy blue eyes told her there was plenty of room to push the envelope here.
“You know, your place has plenty of room for a dog. The distillery is huge, and—”
“Riley,” Sam interrupted in a warning tone.
His eyes still hadn’t left the puppy whose little tail was wagging so hard his whole butt shook.
“Okay,” Riley said with a shrug as she headed toward the owner of the puppies’ mother. “I’ll just pay for her and we can head out.”
The middle-aged woman smiled in delight when she saw Riley carrying one of her “babies.” “I’m so glad to see her go to a good home. We just weren’t expecting Georgiana to have another litter, and while we’re partial to Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, four is about our limit.”
Not for lack of space, Riley mused as she pulled out her checkbook. The house was huge, especially by New York standards.
Not that she was surprised. Grace’s parents were filthy rich. Of course their “dog breeder friend” would actually be a semi-bored aging socialite with impeccable purebreds.
But pedigree wasn’t the reason Riley wanted the dog. She’d always been a sucker for the big-eyed sweetness of the Cavaliers.
They reminded her of a certain stubborn male still canoodling with a puppy.
“You’re taking two?” Donna Marymore asked with a confused glance down at the generous amount on the check.
Riley gave a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure Sam was out of earshot. “Yup. This girl and the little boy there that the man in the jeans is holding.”
“Oh yes, that’s a good one.” Donna’s eyes went a little dreamy and Riley wasn’t entirely sure it was due to the male puppy who’d been identified as the “pick of the litter” when they’d arrived.
The older woman’s eyes dropped to Sam’s backside.
Yup, definitely nothing to do with the dog. Time to go.
“Thanks so much. Your dogs are lovely,” Riley said.
“Send a Christmas card! We always like to see the extended family,” Donna called before turning her attention to the uniformed teen who’d just entered the enormous “dog room.”
From the way the teen’s eyes rolled, it was evident she was part of said extended family and not entirely thrilled about it. Such was a teenager’s lot in life, Riley supposed. God knew she’d spent part of her teen years hating her sisters, avoiding her parents, and mooning over her brother’s best friend.
The very same best friend who was about to become a hopefully proud dog owner.
“You ready?” she asked, hiding her smile at his wistful expression.
Sam didn’t move.
Riley shifted the fussing puppy to her other arm. “I want to get to the pet store before it closes.”
He shifted as though to put the boy puppy on the floor but couldn’t seem to bring himself to do it. “You sure you want the girl? I think this guy here’s where it’s at.”
“I’m sure he’s going to be a great dog when he grows up.”
“He’s a great dog now,” Sam said with a glare in her direction. The “great dog” was gnawing on Sam’s knuckle like it was rawhide.
“Well, you’ll have lots of time to convince me of how great he is,” she said, muffling her words against the puppy’s soft fur.
Sam froze. “What was that?”
“Um.”
“Riley. What the hell did you do?”
“Oh come on, Sam. You can’t leave him. Look at that face. Also … because I kind of already paid for him,” she said, words coming out in a rush.
“Well unpay for him.”
Riley was already moving toward the door. “You’ll thank me later. Women love guys with dogs.”
“Riley!”
He caught up with her on the sidewalk. The good news? He was still carrying the boy dog. Bad news?
He looked pissssssed.
“Riley, you can’t just go buying people dogs they don’t want.”
She pointed at the puppy. “But you do want it.”
He rubbed his eyes with his free hand. “This is over the top, Riley.”
It was. It really was. But …
She lifted her chin and pointed a finger at him. “Thanksgiving, two years ago. Megan and Brian were contemplating adopting a dog. And you said you’d always wanted a dog but didn’t have room in your current place.”
“I was in a studio.”
“Well, you’re not in a studio now.”
His eyes narrowed on her. “That was two years ago. People can change their minds.”
“Fair enough. Have you?”
He glanced down at the dog then, and she knew there was no way the puppy was going back. “Look, Sam. I know I overstepped. Majorly. And I’ll take the little guy back if you want me to. But I think he’d be good for you.”
“Good for me?”
“You know. A buddy.”
“I have a buddy. Liam.”
“Yeah. Because he’s cuddly.”
“I have you for that.”
But how long are you going to keep me?
She kissed her own puppy on the head before moving toward Sam and
giving the boy puppy a matching kiss. She was rewarded by a gentle lap on the chin, and the sweetly instinctive gesture had her eyes watering.
Sam noticed. “Easy there, softie, you’ve got your own.”
Her eyes flicked up. “You’re keeping him?”
He ran a big hand over the tiny puppy as he studied her. “Tell me something, McKenna. That Thanksgiving two years ago … Why’d you remember my dog comment?”
Little alarm bells went off in Riley’s head.
“I don’t know,” she said with a careless shrug.
He didn’t release her gaze. “I think you do.”
She pursed her lips and focused on a spot beyond his shoulder while she considered her response. “My birthday four years ago … you got me concert tickets. Why?”
Sam shifted his weight, immediately wary. “Because you always liked obnoxious poppy boy bands.”
“No, I liked that boy band. Only. Back when I was nineteen.”
“Too old to be liking boy bands, by the way.”
“My point is,” she said with exaggerated patience, “I didn’t even know that they’d gotten back together for an anniversary tour, and yet you knew and bought me tickets.”
“So?”
“So you remembered my favorite band from years before. And sought out tickets. Want to talk about why?”
His jaw clenched. “Not really.”
“And I don’t want to talk about how I remember the dog thing.”
They stared at each other for a long minute in mutual understanding. In mutual fear.
“I’m no good at things like this,” he said as she started walking again and he trailed along beside her, staring in confusion at his new furry companion.
“At what?”
“Taking care of things.”
Sure you are. “Give it a shot. If you screw it up, we’ll find another home for him.”
Sam gave a reluctant nod.
Riley pretended not to see when he very slowly, very subtly brought the puppy close to his face and pressed his lips against its tiny head.
Not good at taking care of things, my ass.
* * *
“How long until the puppies go to sleep?”
Riley paused in the process of tossing a stuffed squirrel for the two dogs. “They’re not toddlers, Sam. I don’t think we get to establish a bedtime.”
He held up the iPad that he’d been studying carefully for the past twenty minutes. “Says right here. The most effective crate-training technique involves consistency. We’re supposed to put them in their crates at the same time every evening, take them out at the same time every morning.”
Riley pouted and glared at the twin crates Sam had insisted they buy. “But what if they want to play after we put them in there?”
Sam gave her a look. “What if I want to play?”
Riley scrambled to her feet. “Okay, puppies! Bedtime!”
But first there was outdoor puppy business to attend to.
“Well, I think we can rule out Dauntless as a name,” Riley mused as they watched the boy dog attempt to move past the big, bad, scary dragonfly to the grassy area where Riley’s dog had already done her business and was now furiously chasing her own tail.
“He’s just cautious,” Sam said, crossing his arms. “Your wild woman out there’s going to be a handful when she gets older.”
“Nah. My dog is just getting it out of her system now. Your dog will go through a rebellious stage, getting all sassy in his teens.”
They both watched as he opted to poop on the porch rather than deal with the scary bugs. “Or maybe not,” Riley amended. “Maybe he’ll always be timid.”
“Mellow. Mellow is the word you’re looking for.”
Riley’s dog came bounding over and head butted her brother, who went scampering behind Sam’s legs.
“Have you considered Kamikaze for a name?” Sam asked, watching as the girl dog turned its attention toward Sam’s shoelaces. “Or maybe Armageddon?”
Riley scooped up the puppy. “I was thinking Pippy. Or Lady.”
“Yeah, I’m going to go with no on the second one,” he said. “She’s already peed—twice—on my bath mat and eaten both of their food portions.”
“It’s a dog-eat-dog world, Compton,” she said, heading back inside. “Kill or be killed and all that.”
“You’re so scary,” Sam muttered as they both went to put their dogs in their respective crates.
Riley noticed the way he hesitated before putting the squirming puppy into the crate alone. She wasn’t having any better luck on her end, looking into those pleading brown eyes. Pet me! Play with me!
“Can’t they cuddle with us? Just for one night?” she asked.
He glanced over at her. “It’ll create bad habits.”
“But those are the best kind,” she said, stroking the dog’s silky ear.
Sam took a deep breath, put his dog into the crate, and locked the door. “I’ll make it up to you?”
She glanced at him through narrowed eyes. “It’d better be good. Really good.”
He gave her a hooded look. “Two years ago, March issue. Want to try it?”
Riley quickly went back through her mental catalog of previous issues. She remembered her own pieces pretty well, but she was surprised that he did. Must have been a doozy of an—
Her eyes widened as she remembered the one he was talking about. “Nighty night, Pippy!” she sang, quickly maneuvering the squirming dog into the crate and latching the door before launching herself at Sam.
But the problem became clear before their lips made contact.
The dogs obviously had no respect for the sacred March issue two years ago, nor for the dog experts’ crate-training advice.
Sam and Riley stared at each other as they listened to the angry set of high-pitched puppy barks. “You know, I’ve been keeping the distillery pretty warm—” he said hesitantly.
“Yes!” she said, already moving toward the crates.
Two seconds later they slid the sliding door closed, effectively shutting out the sound of two irate dogs.
Riley hesitated. “You don’t think they’ll be lonely?”
“They have each other,” he said, already reaching for her.
Riley led him toward the bed, scrambling to pull back the covers. She paused, running her hands along the soft gray bedding. “New sheets? They’re—”
“Forget the fucking sheets.”
He pulled her up onto her knees and pulled off her turtleneck in one motion. His hands framed her face, devouring her mouth as her hands wrestled with his belt and jeans.
“You’re getting better at that,” he said against her mouth as she pulled his jeans and boxers over his hips.
“A little practice. A lot of motivation.”
They pulled apart only long enough to shed their shoes and jeans, and then his hands found her once more, one arm banded firmly around her back as the other hand wrapped around the base of her neck.
Riley curled her own fingers in his hair, holding his head steady. Her tongue coaxed his into her mouth, where she sucked at it wantonly.
He pulled back and swore harshly before pressing a hand against her breastbone, another beneath her hip, and maneuvering her onto her back. Riley squirmed as he grabbed her hips and pulled her closer to the edge of the bed.
Sam skimmed a finger over the bow at her hip. “Red panties today. Nice.”
“You like? I just got them—”
Then Riley forgot all about the matching set of red lingerie she’d bought just because she knew it was his favorite color, because Sam was peeling them off and tossing them aside even as he dropped to his knees.
His eyes locked with hers for a split second before his hands found her thighs, pushing them apart. And then his head dipped to her, tasting her in slow, torturous strokes as she arched up into him, her fingers clawing helplessly.
She’d known about the act, of course. Hell, she’d written about it. But hearing other wome
n describing it and actually experiencing it? Not. The. Same. Thing.
He worked a finger inside her as his tongue moved faster, circling in exactly the place she needed it, and before she could register what was happening, she shattered against his mouth, confirming that she was, and likely always would be, a screamer.
Sam kissed his way up her body, nibbling her shoulder as she caught her breath.
“So?” he asked.
“Huh?” she asked sleepily.
“The March issue. You wrote about how some women liked that better than the actual sex.”
“Well …,” she said, pursing her lips and seriously considering.
His eyes smiled down into hers. “How about a little basis for comparison? Say—July of last year?”
“What, do you, like, study my articles before bed or something? Was that the reverse-cowgirl one?”
“Nope,” he said, moving to sit back against the pillows. “We can try that next time. Tonight I want to see your face when you come.”
Sweet Jesus. He grabbed her hips, maneuvering her over his lap as his tongue found her nipple and flicked it softly. His hands slid around to cup her ass, lifting her slightly until she was poised over him.
They’d gone girl-on-top before, but this was different. Intimate.
He lifted his head to meet her eyes before pushing her hair back from her face. “Beautiful,” he whispered.
Riley’s breath caught. He’d called her body beautiful before, but this was different.
He was looking at her.
Riley lowered onto him slowly. When he was finally all the way in, he closed his eyes and swore softly before his hands tangled in her hair and pulled her head back slightly, exposing her neck and chest for his exploring mouth.
The pace was slow, as though they were both holding on to the moment, making it last. Even when their breath came faster, their hands more desperate, Sam refused to let her speed up, keeping them on the brink as long as possible before finally, finally letting her go over the edge.
He followed her almost immediately, burying his face in her neck, and when he whispered her name quietly, reverently, Riley bit her lip to stop the words she longed to say.
Love me. Keep me. I’m yours.
Chapter Nineteen
“Dude. You got a dog?”
“Apparently,” Sam muttered, standing and putting a wrench in his back pocket as Skippy bounded over to Liam.