Page 4 of Once Upon a Boyband
Adam laughs. “I’m inclined to agree. And Ringo has a really sweet personality. He’s a snuggler.”
An image of Adam lounging on his couch with Ringo asleep on his chest pops into my mind. If snuggling with the puppy meant snuggling with the man, I’d sign the adoption papers this minute.
“Don’t tempt me,” I say. “I’m afraid my work schedule would leave this little guy alone way too often.”
“True,” Percy says dryly. “And your father wouldneverlet you bring him to work with you.”
Dad’s bloodhound, Juniper, has been coming to work with him as long as she’s been alive, and she’s close to thirteen.
Adam gives me a knowing look. “Let me know if you change your mind. And you’re welcome to come out to the rescue anytime.”
I freeze and lift my eyes to his, the invitation catching me by surprise.
“To…visit the puppies?” he says slowly, and I give my head a quick shake.
“Right. Of course. That’s—I knew that’s what you meant.”
Percy clears his throat a little too loudly, and I keep my eyes down as I put Ringo on the scale.
“He’s been the biggest since the beginning,” Adam says, and I nod.
“He’s a good size,” I agree. “Three-fourteen.”
Percy holds Ringo while I administer a couple of vaccines, then he hands the squirming puppy back to Adam while I retrieve another from the wagon. “So, are you into music, then?” I ask. “Is that what inspired the names?”
“I could ask the same thing of you,” Adam says. “The Beatles was a softball, but not everyone would pick up on the first names of the Supremes.”
“TheoriginalSupremes,” I say. “There were more than just those four.”
Adam holds my gaze. “Right again. You know your Motown.”
“She knowseverything,” Percy says. “She’s like the Wikipedia of American music.”
Adam cocks an eyebrow, his gaze sparking with a new interest. “Do you play anything?”
“Oh, absolutely not,” I say. “I’m a dedicated listener, but I’m not musically inclined at all.”
“Do you sing?”
“About as well as a cat screeching her way through a flea bath.”
“I’ll vouch for that,” Percy says. “I’ve heard her try. Neverevertake this woman to karaoke.”
“Okay, listen,” I say, holding a finger out at Percy. “I never would have gotten up to sing if Mimi hadn’t guilted me into it. She’s very convincing.”
Adam chuckles. “Mimi?”
“My grandmother,” Percy explains. “It was karaoke night at her assisted living facility, and she wouldn’t rest until Laney agreed to sing.”
“It was painful,” I say.
“So painful,” Percy agrees.
“But I’d do it again for Mimi.” I look at Adam. “What about you? Do you sing? Or play any instruments?”
Adam shrugs noncommittally, almost like the question makes him uncomfortable. “Uh, maybe a little piano andguitar,” he finally answers. “But I mostly just mess around. I’m more of a listener, too.”
Something about the way he answers the question makes me think this isn’t the entire truth, but I’m so happy to be getting this much undivided attention, I’m not about to push for more. We’ve been through at least a dozen appointments just like this one, but Adam has never looked at me like he’s looking at me now. In fact, I’ve never heard him say this many non-dog-related sentences togetherever.
