He blinks. “She’s fine. Just let me set her down on the floor, so she won’t take a tumble, and?—”
“We can’t just set her down!” I bleat as I twist away, drawing my skirt back down to my knees. “We have to comfort her! Reassure her. Get her a treat or something.”
At the word “treat,” Nuggy’s adorable fox ears perk up.
“What?” Olly winces as he adjusts himself beneath his boxers, still apparently utterly confused. “Why?”
“To make amends. Obviously,” I huff, starting to doubt his moral compass. We were just caught humping in front of a preciousbabyfor goodness’ sake, where’s his sense of decency? “For scaring her and corrupting her innocence.”
“For what?” He laughs. I glare. He stops laughing. “You’re serious.” He blinks again before adding in a more cautious voice, “She’s a dog, love, not a nun.”
“She’s a child.”
“She’s not,” he counters firmly.
“She’s very close to a child,” I amend. “And I feel almost as terrible as I would if she were.” I reach for my zipper, my breasts pushing forward as I nudge it up. Olly’s gaze drops to my cleavage, and I stomp the tip of his shoe with my heel. “Stop staring at my boobs, give her a cuddle, and tell her it’s going to be all right!”
Oliver rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling as he insists, “She’s fine, woman! Seriously. Look at her.” He motions to the dog. “She’s already forgotten everything but that treat you mentioned.”
Nuggy yips and rises onto her stubby legs, silky tail wagging.
“Pick her up, Olly,” I say as I continue to do battle with my zipper. “Don’t let her jump off the bench. It’s too far, she’ll hurt herself. Corgi spines are delicate.”
“Why don’t I attend to your zipper, andyoucan attend to the not-at-all traumatizedadultcorgi, who had her first litter last year, and is fully aware of how babies are made?” He shifts behind me, his breath warm on my shoulder as he adds, “You nutter. Who knew I’d brought a dog fiend into my home?”
“I’m not a fiend, I’m an appreciator,” I say, smiling as Nuggy bounds eagerly into my arms once more. I cuddle her, kissing her silky head as I murmur, “Did you really have puppies, Princess? I bet they were the most beautiful puppies anyone has ever seen.”
“They were wickedly cute,” Oliver assures me. “But all claimed by Gretchen’s grandchildren and great-grandchildren before members of The Appreciation Society could throw their hats into the ring. Grandmother was terribly upset. Personally, I think things worked out for the best. Jasper and Jezebel areawful bullies. They wouldn’t have been good older siblings.” He finishes with my zipper and smooths my skirt. “There. Decent again, once more. Much to my dismay.”
I turn, grinning at his tragic expression. “Oh my, your face.”
He sighs, playing it up as he adds, “Indeed. I suffer, Darling. I really do.”
“It looks like it,” I tease, glancing down at his still throbbing sweater. “You’re especially tragic in the lime green glow of it all.”
He sniffs, lifting his nose in the air. “Yes, well, the fact that my partner in crime seems completely unaffected by the abrupt end of our passionate interlude might be adding to my despair.”
“Don’t despair,” I murmur, nudging my arm against his. “Your partner in crime isn’t unaffected.”
He arches a brow. “No?”
I shake my head. “No. She just thinks we should wait to pick up where we left off until we get home. Where there’s a bed and no dogs.”
“Home, bed, no dogs,” he murmurs. “That sounds good.” He glances down, lips curving as he asks, “What do you think, Princess?”
I follow his gaze to see Nuggy licking his gingerbread man’s googly eyeballs, and laugh. “I think she’s starving.”
“Indeed,” Olly agrees. “We’d better get this puppy a treat before she’s forced to feast on the toxic fibers of my Christmas jumper. Come on, you two. I know where Grandmother hides the best puppy treats.”
I follow him out of the solarium, thoughts of “home” tumbling around in my head. Oliver’s flat already feels homier than my studio in Queens ever has. I tell myself it’s the luxurious furniture, fine art on the walls, and fantastic view of the park. That it’s the elevator and the Egyptian cotton sheets and the bath outfitted with a spa-worthy jacuzzi and heated towel racks, but I know better.
It’s just…him.
This man, who I’m falling for faster than I believed possible.
But maybe love doesn’t play by the rules or slot neatly onto a list. Maybe love does what it damned well pleases.
Especially at Christmas.
