Page 19 of Fragile Hearts

“Looks like he likes you,” I tease, smiling as Mochi lets out the cutest little yawn, a tiny squeak escaping when he does.

Owen rests a hand on Mochi, giving him a soft pat, and there goes my heart, hammering in my chest at how sweet he is. Most guys would take one look at Mochi and laugh—a foo-foo dog that could fit in a bag. Not manly at all.

“I hope he’s not the only one,” Owen murmurs, his words soft and comforting, leaving the door open for me to comment back.

“He’s got good taste,” I play back, swallowing hard, my stomach fluttering again.

Owen is a dream come true, and I know that, which is what makes this whole thing so damn hard. Sometimes it feels too good to be true.

“I’m gonna kick ass as a dog daddy,” Owen jokes, and I laugh at his use of the term ‘dog daddy’, finding it kind of sexy, actually. Not the daddy part because that just screams daddy issues, and I already have those all on my own, but the part where he wants to help take care of Mochi.

“You look pretty hot with my little dog over there on your lap,” I say, and I can’t believe I just said that. “You look hot almost all the time, Owen.”

What the fuck am I doing?

He doesn’t say anything back, and I can tell I’ve caught him off guard. I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, waiting for him to respond.

Maybe I’ve crossed that line I said I wasn’t going to cross.

“Oh, Sloane, don’t test me,” he now says, letting out a hard sigh as he drags a hand through his messy hair. “You know exactly what I think about you.”

She stares back at me, and I don’t know if I’ve pushed too far or not enough or what. A silence floats between us now, but it’s not uncomfortable. If anything, it feels laden with tension.

“I do know,” she eventually answers, her words low, barely audible, almost as though she’s afraid to say them out loud.

I hear them though, loud and fucking clear, and I can’t help but smile as my heart starts to pound in my chest at the possibility that this door that’s always been pretty firmly shut between us has just opened a tiny bit.

“Well, that’s good to know,” I say, patting Mochi again, my eyes never leaving Sloane. “You had dinner?” I now ask, changing the subject because even though I know that door has been opened, I still need to move slowly.

“Actually, I made something for both of us,” Sloane now says, and I swear a blush colors her cheeks.

“Oh?” I ask, grinning.

Sloane laughs, standing as she walks back inside to the kitchen. I hear her rummaging around inside, Mochi popping his head up as he checks to make sure she isn’t going far. Chuckling, I pat his little head in reassurance as I wait for her to come back out.

When she does, she’s carrying two beers and a massive charcuterie board that’s covered in cheeses, meats, crackers, dip, olives and more. I watch as she sets it down on the table in front of us before sitting back down.

“Wow, that looks great,” I tell her.

“It’s not exactly the healthiest of meals or whatever, but sometimes it’s nice to have.”

I smile, lifting Mochi up and putting him down on a spare chair beside me. “You won’t catch me complaining about cheese for dinner,” I say as I grab a beer and hold it up to her. “Here’s to Mochi moving in.”

Sloane laughs, and it’s music to my ears as she taps her bottle against mine and says, “To Mochi.”

Beside me, Mochi lets out an excited yelp as though he’s also happy about this.

The next morning, I’m woken by tiny barks beside my bed, and when I roll over, I see Mochi, his front paws up on the side of the mattress as he tries, and fails, desperately to jump up. It’s actually kind of funny watching him, knowing with those little legs that he doesn’t stand a chance, no matter how hard he tries.

“Hey, bud,” I say, taking pity on him as I lift him onto the bed.

He yelps again, running around in tiny circles until he gets himself settled and curls up beside me. I guess I hadn’t fully shut my door last night when I eventually came to bed, and Mochi has decided to explore the house a bit more.

Which probably means Sloane has left already. She’d said last night about having an early shift at the hotel today, and as I lie here in bed, staring up at the ceiling, her dog now snoring beside me, I wonder again about her response last night when I’d said she knew exactly how I felt about her.

I do know.

A part of me thinks she probably doesn’t know exactly how I feel because that’s something I’ve never admitted to anyone. But the truth is, while my initial attraction to her might have started out as a kind of lust-intrigue type of thing, there’s no doubt it has now morphed into something else entirely different. Something that is a lot more serious on my end.

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