Even if he wasn't my client, it would never work between us.
People like Liam get bored with people like me. Eventually, the novelty of someone who challenges them wears off. Just like it did with Kai.
By eleven PM, we've managed to establish something resembling order. The puppies have been fed, walked around the building's courtyard, and convinced to use training pads instead of Liam’s expensive rugs.
We've moved furniture, created safe spaces, and puppy-proofed everything dangerous within reach.
I'm exhausted and covered in puppy hair. Liam looks equally disheveled, his hair sticking up from where tiny paws have climbed all over him.
“I think they're finally settling down,” he says quietly, looking at the pile of sleepy puppies we've arranged on a massive dog bed in his living room.
I sink onto his couch, every muscle aching. “They'll probably be up again in a few hours. Puppies don't sleep through the night at first.”
Liam settles on the couch beside me.
We sit in comfortable silence, watching the rise and fall of sleeping puppy bellies.
“Thank you,” he says quietly. “For coming over. For not telling me I'm an idiot.”
“Oh, you're definitely an idiot,” I say. “But you're an idiot with good intentions.”
He laughs. “I couldn't let them die, Avery. I know it's impractical and stupid, and I have no idea what I'm doing, but I couldn't just scroll past and do nothing.”
I grow serious. “You’re going to need someone to look after them when you’re not home.”
“I know. I’m not a complete idiot,” he says with a cute grin.
“They're lucky you found them,” I say.
“We're lucky we found them.”
There's that ‘we’ again. I should correct him, remind him that I'm just here temporarily, that this isn't my responsibility. But I'm too tired to argue, and honestly, looking at these sleeping puppies, I feel lucky too.
The female with the white chest patch—Avery—stirs and makes a soft sound. Without thinking, I lean forward and gently stroke her fur.
“She likes you,” Liam says.
“She likes everyone. She's a puppy.”
“No, this one's particular. She only stops crying when you or I hold her.”
I look at him sideways. “You've known her for six hours.”
“Sometimes you just know.”
Again, we’re not talking about puppies anymore. I'm suddenly hyperaware of how close we're sitting, how his arm is resting along the back of the couch behind me. The same awareness from this morning's kiss comes flooding back.
“Liam,” I start, but I'm not sure what I'm going to say.
He turns toward me, and suddenly the space between us feels charged. His eyes drop to my lips, then back up to meet my gaze.
“I should go,” I say, but I don't move.
“I don’t want you to go.” His hand comes up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing across my skin. It's such a gentle touch, so different from the commanding way he kissed me in my office.
“This is complicated,” I breathe.
“Everything about us is complicated.”
