And now… Harper and James were clearly about to become co-parents to a dog.
A cute, shaggy little dog, whose breed was hard to determine and whose entire body was wiggling and vibrating with happiness.
She sighed. She didn’t really want to sleep with James Reynaud, but it was extremely hard to remember why sometimes.
Too young.
Too laid back.
Too irreverent.
Too young.
James was at least five years her junior, and more, he was hardly interested in the same things she was. She loved to cook and read and knit and stay in. He loved jazz—playing and listening to it—and the nightlife and going out. He ate out a lot, and she certainly didn’t know what he liked to read or even if he liked to read.
So, yes, he was younger than she was, but they were also so obviously mismatched, it was laughable.
But he was gorgeous.
And he was holding a dog.
She was only so strong.
“Where did the dog come from?” Harper asked, unable to resist reaching out to touch its head.
The dog pivoted quickly, swiping his tongue over her hand before she could touch his soft head. She smiled. He was a cutie.
“He brought himself to the fire station,” James said.
He’d worked for the past twenty-four hours and was just getting home. His hair was mussed, and he definitely looked tired, but he had an air of happiness around him that just seemed untouchable. Harper suspected it had to do with the love he had for his job. She knew how it felt to do something that just felt right, like you were made for it.
“He’s been hanging around for a few days, I guess,” he said.
“And, of course, as you were leaving, the guys all said that you should bring him home.”
He grinned at her, and, as always, her heart gave a little extra thump.
Which was ridiculous. She was thirty-two years old. She was intelligent, highly educated, fully independent. She’d lived in France, Canada, and now the United States. Had had short-term affairs with a Frenchman and with an Italian. Never had her heart thumped over a man. It was not just ridiculous. It was annoying. She was better than to fall for a pair of deep-brown eyes, or a slow Louisiana drawl, or a set of six-pack abs. Because, of course, he had all of those. He looked every bit the part of a walking, talking romance-novel hero.
The real problem with James Reynaud, however, was that she was getting to know him. And he didn’t just look the part. He definitely acted like a romance hero, too. Willing to rush into buildings, risking his life to save others? Check. Sweet with the elderly, vulnerable, and neglected? Check. Creative and talented? Check. Able to be self-deprecating and charming at the same time? Check.
And now he had a dog.
That was like a triple check mark.
“Do you like dogs?” he asked.
“Of course I like dogs.”
James leaned in and ruffled the top of the dog’s head with his nose in maybe the cutest gesture Harper had ever seen. “You’re in, buddy,” he told the pup.
The dog pivoted again and licked James’s chin.
Harper propped a hand on her hip. “But he’s going to have to live here full time, and you can come visit on your days off.”
James lifted a brow. “Why’s that?”
“Because he needs stability.” She did, too.
This guy was messing with her emotions. Maybe not intentionally, but he was getting to her. She knew these things—the trees and drunk girls—weren’t things he’d planned, so she couldn’t say he was wearing her down with all of this on purpose, but the fact he attracted and welcomed all of these needy creatures and then helped them get even better than when they’d first come to him, was making her feel things she didn’t want to feel.
So she couldn’t be a co-parent. She needed to have a dog that her neighbor sometimes played with. With his shirt on. She needed to start drawing some lines before he further sucked her in.
“He needs someone who’s here on a consistent schedule. Not being shuffled back and forth.” She reached out and took the dog from James.
They didn’t need to worry about the dog together or buy toys for the dog together or have Christmas with the dog together. Because of the together part of all that. The more time she spent with him, the more she figured out about him, the more she liked him. She was going to end up falling for him and then getting her heart broken. She did not want to find herself propped up against his front door with her mascara running down her cheeks.
He let it go, but he was watching her with a bewildered expression. “You want the dog full time?”
“Yes. And maybe sometimes on your days off you can take him to the dog park while I work. Sometimes.”
James's brows drew together slightly. “Sometimes.”
She lifted her chin. “Yes.”
He seemed to think about that for a moment then said, “I guess I’ll need a key to your place, then, too.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“So I can come over and get him when I’m off. When you’re in class. Unless you want me to wake you up early before I sack out after my shift.”
He was right. He left early, which meant he got off his shift and back to the apartment early—twenty-four hours later. He’d need a key to her place if they had a dog together. No, if he was dog sitting once in a while. She’d gotten the key to his place because of Henry.
“Fine,” she agreed. “I’ll have one made.”
“Great.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
He reached out and ruffled the dog’s head again. “Lucky guy,” he said. “Be sure to snuggle her good.” Then he gave Harper a wink and turned and sauntered off to his apartment.
Two nights ago…
Harper’s phone rang as she was leaving her classroom. She’d had a department meeting run late and then needed to finish up some paperwork and was now hurrying home. James had been off today, but he had plans with his friends tonight, and she didn’t want to leave Ami alone for too long tonight.
Okay, truthfully, she would just always rather be at home with the dog… and James… than pretty much anywhere else.
Her shaggy, devious, matchmaking dog.
She smiled as she reached into her jacket pocket for her phone. It really seemed that James also enjoyed being at home more when she and the dog were there, too. The dog he called Fred even though she’d officially named him Ami, which meant friend in French. He insisted on saying it Amy and claiming it was a girl’s name. Harper knew damned well that he knew French and knew how to pronounce it. But he didn’t know she knew that he knew French. Because he didn’t know she’d overheard him speaking French, fluently, to one of the tourists in the praline shop one afternoon or that she’d heard him swearing in French one day through his open apartment window or that she’d heard him talking on the phone to someone fully in French on the balcony another day.
Why he was pretending not to know the language, she wasn’t sure, but she was playing along for now. And rolling her eyes every time he called their dog Fred.
Yes, the dog was officially theirs in spite of her best efforts to not get even closer to James. Her arguments that they were confusing the poor thing by using two names didn’t hold water either. The mutt responded, happily, to both. He was smart and very much preferred when James and Harper were both with him. If he knew one was home but was in the other apartment, he whined and paced and lay by the door looking completely forlorn. It was how, over the past month, Harper and James had started spending more time together whenever they were both home.