Page 77 of Don't Go Faking My Heart

"That's okay, Pookie," Ash says. "You're too cute to use a doggy door in a thunderstorm, aren't you? Who's a good girl? Who's a good girl?"

My dog is in raptures.

"Bad girl," I say, still rubbing her belly, although that's mostly because my hand keeps bumping into Ash's, and it shoots a thrill up my arm every time.

A shivering Ash glares at me. "Watch your mouth."

"I'd rather watch yours."

She laughs and keeps petting my spunky brown and white Chi-a-Pap. Chihuahua/Papillon mix. Her huge, hairy ears are bigger than her body. "I love her crazy ear hair."

Ash shivers again, and I jump up. "I have towels in the hall closet. Give me a sec," I say. When I'm back, Ash stands. I wrap the biggest one I have around her. I rub her arms, our faces not even a foot apart, and she smiles as Prairie jumps at our feet.

"This is a surprisingly fluffy towel for a bachelor."

"Guys can appreciate comfortable towels."

"Do you take bubble baths?"

"No."

Her glasses are spotted with rain. I wipe them with an edge of my own towel. Her eyes are big and disbelieving.

"Liar! You do. I bet you have a robe."

"Only because I take ice baths, and it warms me up."

"Why are you ashamed to admit you love luxuriating in snuggly things?" she asks.

"I'm not ashamed and I don't."

"I saw your judgy eyes with Teddy's frosted tips and Philip's manicure."

"It's an actual manicure?"

"I guarantee Sonny has had a manicure."

"That's different. I like Sonny."

She laughs. "Hey, you're trying to make me change the subject! Where were we? Oh right, we were talking about how you're a big hypocrite because you use eucalyptus mint bubble bath yet you judge other men for their self-care."

"No, I use eucalyptus mint body wash, and my baths are therapeutic and include magnesium salt, not bubbles. As for Philip and Teddy, they need to care more about how they treat others and less about how their salons treat them."

"Baths are therapeutic," Ash says. Her shivering has calmed a little. "Especially when you light candles. Do you light candles?"

"I do not light candles."

"You should. I'm going to get you a candle. A manly one. It'll smell like spruce and cedar and sweat."

I look down at this beaming, beautiful woman and chuckle. "Then I guess I'll start taking baths with candles."

Her laugh tinkles. "I own you."

Yes you do.

She glances at the staircase. "Do you mind if I shower and borrow some clothes?"

"Not at all," I say. "I have clothes in the dryer, so I'll shower and change in the spare bathroom down here and you can change in my room. Up the stairs and on the right."

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