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“Me. Everyone who knows you. Your landlord.”
Riley looked down at the adorable puppies, knowing she’d never be able to choose between the one with the black tail and the one with the two black front paws.
She’d just as soon choose one breast to keep. (The left one. The right one had developed a right, downward slope sometime after twenty-five.)
“You can’t just decide to get a dog on a whim, you know,” he said.
“Sure I can. And it’s not a whim. I’ve always wanted one. It just happened to be today that Grace called and said her mother’s friend had a litter of my very favorite dog breed of all time right when I’m finally in a pet-friendly apartment.”
“You don’t even have a leash. Or food. Or toys. Or flea medicine, or a brush.”
“Don’t worry. There are these crazy, faddish new shops called pet stores that might be able to hook me up.”
“You’re so irresponsible,” he muttered, reaching down to pet one of the tiny dogs, his big finger dwarfing it, and her brain went gooey.
And she was definitely no closer to picking just one.
“You pick,” she said, giving a woe-is-me sigh.
“No way. I’m here for moral support. And to make sure you don’t walk out of here with an entire pack.”
The way Sam gingerly scooped up the one with the black tail and scratched it behind the ears like a legit dog lover belied his motives.
It also hit on the other reason she was here.
Riley really did want a dog. She’d been yammering about it for months, and despite what Sam thought, she did have a few supplies. There was an adorable Tiffany collar, a handcrafted food and water bowl set, and though she’d never let the poor creature wear it in public, a fuzzy pink sweater.
Basically, the essentials.
She even had the name: Pippy.
But Pippy would need a friend. And that was the other reason she was here. It was time to topple Sam’s self-imposed loner status. The man clearly had commitment issues and worthiness issues and who knew what else thanks to his shrew of a mother, and what better way to help him heal than regular sex, and the unconditional love that only a dog could give?
“I guess I’ll take this little lady,” she said, lifting the black-pawed puppy who was trying her best to sink her tiny teeth into the heel of Riley’s new boots.
A small line appeared between Sam’s eyebrows as he looked down at black tail. “But this guy has so much personality.”
“When it comes to males, personality is a euphemism for stubborn ass,” she said, climbing to her feet. “I don’t need another one of those guys in my life.”
She snuck a glance out of the corner of her eye, assessing whether her gut had been right. One glance at his sappy blue eyes told her there was plenty of room to push the envelope here.
“You know, your place has plenty of room for a dog. The distillery is huge, and—”
“Riley,” Sam interrupted in a warning tone.
His eyes still hadn’t left the puppy whose little tail was wagging so hard his whole butt shook.
“Okay,” Riley said with a shrug as she headed toward the owner of the puppies’ mother. “I’ll just pay for her and we can head out.”
The middle-aged woman smiled in delight when she saw Riley carrying one of her “babies.” “I’m so glad to see her go to a good home. We just weren’t expecting Georgiana to have another litter, and while we’re partial to Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, four is about our limit.”
Not for lack of space, Riley mused as she pulled out her checkbook. The house was huge, especially by New York standards.
Not that she was surprised. Grace’s parents were filthy rich. Of course their “dog breeder friend” would actually be a semi-bored aging socialite with impeccable purebreds.
But pedigree wasn’t the reason Riley wanted the dog. She’d always been a sucker for the big-eyed sweetness of the Cavaliers.
They reminded her of a certain stubborn male still canoodling with a puppy.
