Dom shrugs, the worst liar in history. “I said I wasn’t leaving with a puppy.”
“Fig is a senior,” Ms. Cook announces, appearing with a tote bag stuffed with supplies and an eggplant toy sticking out like a flag. “We adore seniors. Less chaos, more soul.”
Ms. Brandy presses a stack of coupons into Dom’s hand. “Also, paper towels are two for one this week. Adoption is messy. You’re welcome.”
Mazie, now calm and sticky, reaches from Finn’s arms towards Fig. “Dog,” she declares.
“Correct,” Finn says, misty-eyed. “Dog.”
Dom disappears while I sign forms and returns with a bigsticker on his shirt that says, “SPONSORED A SENIOR.” The look of annoyance on his face right now is priceless.
When everything’s set, I slide back down by Fig’s kennel. Dom drops beside me, thigh to thigh.
“You okay?” he asks.
“I’m stupid happy,” I say. “Like… actually happy.”
He nods, eyes on Fig. “Me too.”
Fig rests his chin on my fingers through the bars. I rest my head on Dom’s shoulder. Behind us, the gang debates names for the eggplant stuffy. I veto Purple People Eater. Ms. Brandy tries to rope Olly into emceeing the raffle, and Ms. Cook threatens—sweetly—to put Spencer on the shelter board. Mazie falls asleep on Finn with ice cream on her nose. And Jules and Mira do what they do best—make out.
“Welcome home, Fig,” Dom says softly.
“Welcome home,” I echo, and for once I don’t protect the moment with a joke. I just let it land. Tonight, we’ll celebrate with food and a fridge covered in coupons.
We spend a few more hours hanging out, supporting Alex and the shelter. I was able to get Fig out of his kennel and run around with him outside. For an old dog, he’s full of energy and life.
“Oh, Dom,” Ms. Brandy calls. “Do you think I could borrow your big strong arms for a minute?”
“You have fun with that. I’m gonna go put these bags of supplies in the truck and get Fig situated,” I say, kissing him on the cheek.
With his tongue hanging out of his mouth and a dopey expression on his face, I open the door for Fig to jump in. He leans his head back, looking at me. “Seriously?” I pick him up, then slide in next to him.
“Trust me, you’re gonna like this car ride,” I reassure him.
I look up just in time to see Dom walking out of the shelter. Ittakes me a second, but then I see it. I have never laughed so hard before in my life.
“Umm, Dom?” I start when he opens the door and hands me the smallest gray kitten I’ve ever seen.
“Don’t even say a word!”
Beckett
It’s the kind of afternoon that makes you believe in second chances—blue sky, soft sun, the sort of warmth that promises a perfect bonfire later. Twenty minutes ago, Dom shoved a coffee into my hands, attached Fig to the other, and banished me from the kitchen.
We’ve been playing fetch. Well, trying. The ball rolls to a stop by Fig’s paw, he grumbles, stretches… and does not move.
“You’re just gonna nap mid-game?” I nudge the ball with my toe. “That was… wow. Incredible hustle. Ten out of ten for the attempt you almost made… Good boy. You just lie there.”
“I see he has you trained,” Dom says, walking out of the house carryinganothercup of coffee that he hands to me.
I arch a brow. “What game are you playing at… sir?” The word purrs out of me. Heat flares in his eyes. Bullseye. After six months, I know how to spark that flame. Give that man something to control, in the sweetest sense of course, and he’s putty in my hands.
“I’ve never done water sports before, but I’m down if…”
“Jesus Christ,” Dom mutters under his breath, and I have tobite my lip just to keep from laughing. “That’s a hard no,” he says, holding up his hand. “Wait… did you just say…”
I shrug. “I’m always down to try new things.”Okay, this one is also a hard no for me, but it’s too fun not to tease him…
