Page 159 of Can't Get Enough

I lean into his neck, breathing in the clean smell of him, and chuckle.

“When have I ever turned down a gift?”

“This one carries some responsibility,” he says, pulling back to peer into my face. “For real. If you decide you don’t want this, I’ll find another home for it.”

“It needs ahome?” My brows draw together, but my smile stays fixed in place. “I think you’re taking ‘diamonds are a girl’s best friend’ too literally.”

“Not diamonds this time.” He laughs, reaching down to caress the unicorn ankle bracelet I can’t seem to make myself remove even if I’m lounging at home in cutoffs and a ratty T-shirt. “You want to see?”

I link our fingers on his chest and nod. “Gimme.”

“Okay.” He leans forward and grabs his phone, typing out a text. “It’s outside.”

“It’s outside?” I slide off his lap and stand. “You better not have gotten me a car, Mav.”

“Oh, you’d turn down a Bentley?”

“Hell, no.” I toss my head back and laugh. “You know I wouldn’t.”

“Well, this is not that.” He takes my hand and leads me out of the office and up the hall. “It’s even better. I mean, if you want to keep it.”

“Why do you keep thinking I won’t want to keep it?”

Before he can answer, a sharp bark pierces the air. I stop, keeping his hand and pulling him up short. He grins over his shoulder at me.

“You didn’t,” I gasp, not sure how I feel about what that bark portends.

“Remember.” He steps close and kisses my forehead. “You don’t have to keep her.”

“Her?”

I walk around him and rush ahead. A guy holding a tiny dog stands in the living room beside a grinning Aunt Geneva.

“Mr. Bell,” he says, stroking the dog’s head. “Got your message to come on in.”

“Thank you.” Maverick walks over and takes the little dog into his arms.

“He’s the cutest thing,” Aunt Geneva purrs, looking lovesick already.

“She,” Maverick and I correct in unison.

Maverick walks closer, not making any move to hand over the Yorkshire terrier.

“You did once tell me a dog would be the closest you’d come to a maternal instinct,” he teases, but watches me closely with lifted brows. “What do you think?”

“I’m not sure yet.” I reach out a tentative hand and rub her silky head. The fur is trimmed short, a rich caramel color streaked with dark chocolate. She peers at me over Maverick’s arm, giving me a look that must epitomize what they mean by puppy-dog eyes. My heart turns to a glob and I reach for her.

“You’re the prettiest girl,” I coo, holding her loosely against my chest. Her little paws tap my arm over and over like she hears some rhythm in her head. “You playing the drums for me?”

I laugh when her light taps continue, accompanied by staccato yelps.

“My little drummer girl,” I say with a laugh.

“Yours if you want,” Maverick interjects. “She comes housebroken and with some basic training, but if you decide you don’t want her—”

“I do.” I bury my nose in her clean-smelling fur. “I want her. Thank you, Mav.”

I kiss his cheek and blink away tears. Maverick has given me so many gifts, but this one, a tiny life I’m responsible for, moves me the most. It shows how well he knows me. I love taking care of people. My friends, my family. I have so much love to give, and it would be easy to assume that because I don’t want children, I don’t want the responsibility of caretaking. There’s nothing further from the truth. The chance to be an auntie to Soledad’s and Yasmen’s kids is an honor I’m so grateful for. Being there for my friends however they need me—one of my greatest joys. And being free to devote so muchtime to take care of my mother in this final stretch of her journey—

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