“We were just telling Will that we’re thinking about getting a kitten,” she said, gesturing to Matt. “Or a puppy.”
“Because you two don’t have enough to do?” I asked.
“Because she,” Matt nodded to Lauren, “always gives me shit about growing up without pets.”
“Every kid should have a pet. At least a freaking goldfish, dude,” Lauren said. “And I think we can handle a kitten.”
“We arenotgetting a cat,” Matt said. “We need a black lab or a beagle, maybe a bulldog. Something loyal and fun. I don’t want some moody cat.”
“He’s right,” Will said. “Cats are assholes.”
Cats are assholes? What kind of statement is that?
“Why don’t you explain that one to me,” I said.
Will shrugged and lifted his beer bottle. “Real men have dogs. Dogs do as they’re fucking told, and they’re happy to have your company. Haven’t you ever seen a dog when you come home at the end of the day? It’s the best moment of their lives. Every day, they have a new best moment of their lives. Cats are selfish. They don’t give a shit whether you’re coming or going.”
“So you’re looking for submission,” I said. The corners of Will’s mouth tipped up into a smirk. “The dog bows to its master. The catisthe master.”
“There can only be one alpha, Shannon,” he said, and Ifeltthose words like no others. It was as if he was speaking directly to my clit, saying, ‘Come on, my little pet. It’s time to play.’
“Yeah…” Lauren said. “I wasn’t so much worried about power dynamics. I was more concerned with the number of times we’d need to walk a dog each day and that we don’t currently have a backyard.”
“We can change that,” Matt said. “Say the word and I’ll build you that house.”
Lauren held up her hands. “Don’t rush me,” she said.
“You don’t find that argument a bit misogynistic?” I asked. I knew I was baiting Will. “Considering that cats are typically associated with women—how many sexy cats do you see on Halloween, right?—and dogs are associated with men, isn’t hating cats equivalent to hating women?”
Will’s tongue peeked out and painted his bottom lip, and my eyes went straight to his mouth.
“We’ve had this conversation before, and you’re well aware that I don’t hate women,” he said. Lauren gasped out a quiet laugh and turned to Matt, asking him what they’d name a bulldog. “Not at all. I like my dogs loyal and my woman fiery.”
The debate over canines and felines transitioned to the house Matt was planning to build for him and Lauren—when she was ready for a house, of course—and I was surprised to find Will speaking in complete sentences. He didn’t growl at Matt once.
I picked at the dish of gelato Lauren placed in front of me while the men discussed football. I could hold my own in sports talk but I preferred observing Will. I’d never had the opportunity to watch him before, taking in the way he carried himself, understanding his mannerisms. He projected strength and control, yet his presence was commanding without being oppressive. He was unshakably chill, and the way his eyes cruised over the terrace gave me the impression he was aware of absolutely everything. His beard was fuller. Without thinking, my legs squeezed together at the memory of his scruff on my thighs.
I never expected to be face-to-face with him again. At least not this soon.
And I still didn’t like him.
“I’ll be right back,” I said when the conversation shifted to World Series predictions. I only liked talking baseball with Riley. That kid was a stats savant.
I slipped inside and busied myself in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher and wrapping up the leftovers. The loft was spacious, and only a few rooms were carved out of the open space. I wandered down the hall, ducking into the bathroom under the staircase.
Will was waiting for me when I opened the door. “How’ve you been, peanut?”
Crossing my arms and leaning against the doorframe, I smiled at him. “Can’t complain.” He stared for a long moment, and I realized I’d missed the way his gaze felt on me.Thisgaze, not the detached, watchful stare I saw outside, but this hot, lazy intensity only a surfer boy could pull off. “How’s the military industrial complex?”
“Business is brisk,” he said.
I inclined my head down the hall, toward the terrace. “You’re being unusually amenable.”
Will rubbed his palm over his jaw, grinning. “He grills a decent steak,” he said, “but I got eyes on him. The second he steps out of line—”
I shook my head and placed my hand on his chest. “Take it down a notch, commando.”
He glanced at my hand and then up at me, smirking. That fucking smirk. It was his quiet way of making it damn clear that he was in charge here, and he wasn’t about to let that change. “Where do you want me to take it, peanut?”
