Page 105 of Don't Go Faking My Heart

“Well, listening to audiobooks is reading," she says, grabbing my hands and making me look at her. "Do you think blind people don't read if their fingers are doing the work?"

"No. Of course they're reading."

"And you are, too." Her curls bounce with emphasis. "You're absorbing information. Who cares if it's through your fingers, ears, or eyes? One sense isn't better than the other. Arlo's asinine comment doesn't get to take up space in your mind. He didn't earn that privilege."

The conviction in her voice carries her words straight to my heart.

"What did I ever do to deserve someone like you in my life?"

She smiles. The balls of her cheeks raise her glasses. "What can I say? Guys who read are hot."

"Oh, are they?" I put my hands around her back, and she puts hers around my neck like we're dancing.

"They really, really are," she says. Her eyes jump to my lips, and the urge to kiss her is overwhelming. Uncontrollable.

Inevitable.

I lean down, and my cheek brushes the skin of hers. Her eyelids flutter closed, and mine follow a heartbeat after. Her breath is warm and shallow against my face, almost like she's holding it.

Or maybe I am.

My lips part as I close the distance?—

ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF

Pookie jumps at our feet, her little nails scraping against my jeans and Ash's legs. She jumps and spins and tries to get our attention, because heaven forbid we do something without her.

Ash laughs and leans down to scratch Pookie's ear. "Poor pup," she says. "You're feeling jealous, aren't you?"

"I should've left you in the ditch," I grumble.

Ash tsks and swats my leg, still squatting with Pookie. "Did Mommy and Daddy leave you out?"

"Mommy and Daddy?" My heart freezes … and then catches fire.

Ash doesn't look up, but I can imagine the blush on her face, and it's stupid how appealing the thought is.

"Hmm?" Ash says, pretending she doesn't know exactly what I'm talking about. Mommy and Daddy?

"I'm not her dad, I'm her owner," I say, but it's a reflex. "She's a farm dog, not a purse pet."

"She's a purse pet, and she's your purse pet," Ash says in the voice she only uses for Pookie.

"You mean our purse pet."

"If that's the case, do you mind if I borrow some of her poop?"

"Beg your pardon?"

"I'm trying to help Chick Hanks with a gopher problem."

I laugh. "She's your dog, too, Gorgeous. Do what you need to do."

Ash looks up with pure happiness stretched across her lips. For the last year, I thought I knew every smile, every quirk of her mouth, every pucker and pout. I was so wrong. It's like seeing the Mona Lisa a million times from a distance and finally getting to walk past the barrier and examine it up close. I can see brush strokes and layers, the subtle interplay of light and color, added nuance that I never imagined but that helps me appreciate and love this masterpiece even more.

The way I could kiss this woman …

The way I did.

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