They did.
When they weren’t muttering about his choice in women.
“They just wanted you to know I’m the better one of the two of us. Their opinion. Not mine. All based on the dumb feud.” He clears his throat and looks away. “I emailed you a get-to-know-you questionnaire I found online. Things we need to be able to answer about each other if we’re going to pull this off.”
I can’t concentrate on a questionnaire right now.
Not when my heart is aching so hard for him.
How is it possible to have this much compassion and worry over a man I barely know?
“My grandma will likely accuse you of using me just so that a Silver can get their hands on the Gingerbread House,” I tell him. I don’t want to. It feels like kicking him when he’s already down. But he needs to know.
Instead of seeming offended or defensive, though, he rolls his eyes. “She’s on to me. I’m an evil family-feud-loving mastermind who lives to destroy the lives of my family’s enemies. Mwaha. Ha. Ha ha.”
I don’t even try to suppress a smile. “You need to work on your evil villain laugh. That wouldn’t scare a toddler.”
“I thought fiancées were supposed to support a guy’s dreams.”
Was he always this funny? Why didn’t I know he was funny? “I’ll do better tomorrow when I’m more used to being someone’s fiancée.”
He shakes his head, clearly amused this time, then gets up. “C’mon, Chili. Outside one last time before bed. And clearly, we all need sleep.”
“I’ll take him.”
Dane lifts a brow at me.
“I’m a professional dog walker. I think I can handle Mr. Cutie-Patootie Lazybones here. Plus, I promised my mom I’d check the mailbox.” And I need to breathe a little more.
And think more.
And process more.
It’s been quite a day.
“You good with Amanda taking you out, Chili?” Dane asks the dog.
Chili grumbles, but he pulls himself to his feet and nudges my hand.
“Who’s the sweetest boy?” I say while I scratch behind his ears.
He harrumphs, but he also licks my face.
Just once.
But he does it.
Victory.
I love winning dogs over. They’re my favorite kind of people.
“How long have you had Chili?” I ask while I get up to grab the dog’s leash.
“Seven years.”
“Did you have dogs before that?”
“Always.”
