“Hi.” Brilliant conversation, Emerson. Way to be articulate.
Should she move? She should move.
Caleb brushed the hair back from her face, lighting little fires where his fingers skimmed over her cheek. “Sleep okay?”
“I…uh…” How could she think with him so close? What was this look on his face? This wasn’t easy, friendly, funny Caleb. This was…something else. Something had shifted between them, and Emerson didn’t know what the hell to do with it.
“Why did you stay?” Oh, great. Just blurt it out, why don’t you? But she needed to know.
“Because you asked me to.”
Oh God.
Heat flooded her cheeks. After all his kindness last night, after the mess he’d walked in on, she’d asked him to stay?
Needing some distance, she started to shove up and away, but he just pulled her back, until she was sprawled fully atop him, chest to chest, his hands laced at the small of her back.
“And because I wanted to.”
From her position, it was very obvious he meant it. Blatant interest shone in his eyes, which was befuddling and flattering and…so ridiculous. He was twenty-eight years old and in his absolute prime. She was in her mid-thirties, just realizing that she wasn’t going to get back the life she’d put on hold to raise a child. There was no rewind, no do-over button.
“It was late. You were probably exhausted after your shift.” In a bit of a panic, she pushed away, narrowly avoiding unmanning him as he let her go. This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t. It was just Paisley’s stupid suggestion worming its way into her stupid skull.
Caleb straightened, and she chanced a look in his direction. No sign of offense or disappointment on his face. Those beautiful, sensual lips were twisted in…amusement. Damn him. And now she was looking at his mouth.
Jerking her gaze away, she smoothed down her tank top. There was no way she could make it through offering him coffee. She was mildly hung over, her hair was probably a mess, she had morning breath, and whatever she’d thought she’d seen simply wasn’t a thing. He had to go. She needed space to breathe. And think. And breathe. She’d be able to do that once he was gone.
“I should get rolling. I’ve got a full morning of recording slated.” There wasn’t a chance in hell she could record with the sandpaper lining her throat, but he didn’t need to know that. She headed toward the back door in a clear signal he should leave. He didn’t deserve the bum’s rush after last night, but embarrassment was stronger than manners.
Caleb slipped on his shoes. “I’ve got a few things to do myself. But when you break this afternoon, I’ve got somewhere to take you.”
Already off balance, she whipped around and nearly plowed into him. “What? Where? Why?”
Neatly sidestepping, he opened the door himself. “Can’t tell you where. I promised Fiona.”
“Promised her what, exactly?”
“Can’t tell you that either. I have to show you.”
She didn’t have the brainpower to figure out what the hell her child had talked him into. If she agreed, he’d leave, and then she could shower and get her head on straight. By this afternoon, she’d be back to normal and able to look him in the eye. Then she could figure out whether it was worth trying to ground a college freshman.
“Fine. I should be done around two.”
He flashed that easy, familiar smile and her insides went molten. “See you then.”
Emerson waited until he’d shut the door and the sound of his footsteps off the deck faded, then she collapsed back against the nearest wall.
What the hell had just happened?
The dog was clearly the result of an unholy union between the cat from Shrek and a pit bull. It looked up at them from the corner of the kennel with big, liquid eyes that made Caleb want to say, “Take my money!” if only to bring him home and shower him with every dog toy known to man.
The moment Emerson laid eyes on him, she sighed. “Damn it.”
Caleb was glad he wasn’t the only one.
“I wasn’t going to let you talk me into this.”
“Fiona thought you’d be lonely without someone to take care of. I wasn’t gonna disabuse her of that notion. I just promised to bring you down here to look.”
“There’s a reason I’ve never had a dog. They bark. Barking is bad when you make your living recording stuff.”
The high-school-aged volunteer piped up, “Actually, I’ve never heard him bark.”
Caleb had noticed that. While practically every other dog in the place was making bids to be noticed, this one hadn’t made a peep.
Emerson eyed the boy as if she didn’t quite trust him. “Really?”
“He’s a funny little dude. Loves to curl up in boxes, like a big cat. The prevailing theory is that he was maybe raised with them.”
She hummed a noncommittal note and turned her focus back to the dog.
Caleb couldn’t help poking at her, just a little. “Seriously, Em, how can you say no to that face?”
“Plenty of people have,” the kid informed them. “He’s been here for three months.”
“Monsters.” Emerson crouched down, curling her fingers through the chain link and making cooing noises.
The dog’s little stump of a tail gave a hesitant wag.
“A lot of people are terrified of pit mixes,” the volunteer continued.
“Worst smear campaign ever. There’s no such thing as bad dogs. Just bad owners,” Emerson continued in a sing-song voice.
Caleb and the kid exchanged knowing glances as the dog belly crawled over to sniff her fingers.
“You’re just scared and lonely, aren’t you, baby? All you want is somebody to love. Isn’t that right?”
“We think he’s about two. He’s heartworm negative, house-trained, and has really good leash manners.”
The dog licked her hand, and Emerson scratched his chin in praise. “Can I go in?”
“Sure.” The guy opened the kennel for her.
Slowly, Emerson edged inside, moving to the opposite side of the kennel and sitting. She held out a hand and waited, murmuring to the dog in a low voice. Caleb knew from experience how soothing her voice could be. He had a collection of her audiobooks on his phone to listen to on his way to sleep or during downtime at the fire station. The dog was no different. He rose partway to his feet and inched forward, pink-and-black-spotted nose twitching. When he settled his head gently on her knee, Emerson stroked his brown and white ears. The dog let out a sigh, his whole body relaxing.
She swore softly. “Bring me the paperwork.”
Two hours later, after an enormously expensive trip to PetSmart, where they’d both been compelled to buy every non-squeaking dog toy on offer, in addition to the essentials, they arrived home with the dog, who still had no name. Emerson took him straight through the house to the backyard, while Caleb hauled in the supplies.
She was leaning against the porch rail, grinning, when Caleb came out to join her. “I think he likes it.”
Down below, the dog ran zoomies around the perimeter.
“I’d say so.” After last night’s tears, he hadn’t expected to see that smile so soon. Score one for Fi.