Page 68 of You Fall First

This one almost made me snort yogurt out my nose, at which point Dutton wanted to know what was so funny, so I told Maren she had to cool it. Her being too hilarious makes my job too challenging.

Besides that, the week continues with mostly smooth sailing until Thursday evening.

Which is now.

Dutton and I are at the pet store, Puppy Love, looking at—you guessed it—puppies. I thought this would be a great way to kill time until Noah texted to say he’s leaving Havenwood. He’s been picking up dinner after work for him and Dutton. Meanwhile, I head home to eat with my parents. And by “eat dinner," I mean shove pot roast in my face and duck questions about my future.

To be fair, three different career trajectories in one young adulthood is a lot: Education, social work, and now … hospitality. Lewis and Maggie Michaels made a substantial investment in my schooling. I understand why they’re wondering if I’ve got an endgame in mind.

I don’t.

So I offer to pay them back, which we all know they’ll turn down even before they do. And the truth is, I might want to be a teacher someday. Or maybe I will use my master’s in social work. Or pursue my PhD, which—for the record—would be funded entirely by me.

Anyway.

Back to the puppies.

We’re with a little spaniel in the back area where people are allowed to play with the animals in a pen. Dutton and the puppy are wiggling around together on the carpet, and they’re just about the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen. Naturally, I take a quick selfie of all of us to send to Noah. He puts a heart on it immediately, almost like he’s been waiting for a message. Then I get this:

Noah

Dangerously cute.

Heat forges a trail from my stomach to my forehead, and I’m sure the entire upper half of my body is turning pink, until I realize Noah’s talking about the puppy and Dutton. Then I start blushing even more, but from embarrassment this time, not because he was saying I’m cute. He wasn’t. Obviously.

So I stick my phone in the bib of my overalls. Cute overalls, I might add. Denim cut-offs. With a cute white tank top.

Did I mention cute?

“Miss Jo. Look!”

I look.

Dutton’s gotten himself into a cross-legged position so the little spaniel can climb directly onto his lap. While she licks all over his face, Dutton goes into full-throat giggle mode, acting like he wants to squirm away from her tongue, but he doesn’t really. And I know this because every time Dutton escapes, he puts his face back in front of her snout.

“Awww.” I press a smile on my face. “She likes you, Dutton.”

“I love her!” he hoots.

My heart vibrates.

Actually, no. It’s just my phone in the bib of my cute denim overalls.

Noah

On my way.

All righty then.

I give the text a thumbs-up, then shove it in my purse. No more heart vibrations for Jo. And you know what? It’s actually a good thing that Noah and I will only see each other in passing for the next week. If he and Dutton and I ate more meals together—or played games or watched movies or did anything remotely domestic—I might start to enjoy our faux family unit a little too much.

Dangerously cute.

Speaking of which. “Hey, bud,” I say. “We need to say goodbye to the puppy.”

“Pearl,” he squeals.

“Who?”