Page 15 of Special Delivery Cowboy
"Your dog."
"Your dog. You brought her."
"You named her. That's basically adoption."
When Twinkle finally collapsed, we brought her to the living room and settled on the couch. I grabbed the remote and switched from the movie to a soft holiday music playlist. She sprawled between us, out cold within seconds.
My stomach growled—loud enough we both heard it.
"Sorry," I said. "Haven't eaten since this morning."
"I had lunch before I left, but that was hours ago."
"I should make us something."
"Probably a good idea."
But neither of us moved.
The fire crackled. Outside, snow hammered the windows in white sheets. The Christmas tree lights blinked in the corner.
I watched TJ stroke Twinkle's soft fur, his hand moving in slow, gentle motions. When he glanced over, our eyes met.
Held.
The puppy snored softly between us, oblivious.
"Getting late," TJ said quietly.
"Yeah."
But we stayed right where we were—the storm raging outside, the fire warming the room, Christmas Eve stretching ahead into the unknown.
And I had no idea what came next.
Chapter Four
TJ
Iwas in trouble.
Sitting on this expensive leather couch with a sleeping puppy between us and a beautiful woman who thought I was a stripper two hours ago, I was in serious trouble.
Tinsley tucked her feet under her, leaning against the armrest, firelight catching in her chestnut hair. She'd changed into flannel pajama pants covered in snowflakes and an oversized sweater that kept sliding off one shoulder. Every time it did, I caught a glimpse of smooth ivory skin and my brain stopped working.
