And he was just so damn perfect for me, and that was definitely a scary thing.

I could see myself falling in love with Noah. If I’d known him any longer than two weeks, I’d say I already was. I didn’t believe you could fall in love quickly, so it really didn’t matter how strong my feelings for him were.

They weren’t love.

Not yet.

One day, but not today.

I put down my phone and went on a hunt for my clothes. Did I have enough time to clean my underwear and dry them off if I put them in the sun? I didn’t really want to put dirty panties on, but I didn’t have much of a choice.

They were all I had, after all.

I located my bra, my dress, and my shoes, but my panties were nowhere to be found. Frowning, I threw my clothes on the bed and got onto the floor. Had they accidentally gone under the bed?

A peek under the frame said no.

They’d disappeared.

How did panties disappear? They didn’t have legs, and as far as I knew, they—

Oh, my God.

I froze.

No, panties didn’t have legs.

But Poosh did.

I scrambled to my feet and ran downstairs. The towel on top of my head fell off halfway down the stairs, but I left it there and went in search of Noah’s dog. She was nowhere to be found in the living room, so I walked through into the kitchen.

Where Poosh was lying in her bed with my underwear between her paws.

And my panties?

Well, rest in peace, my little lacy friend.

“Oh, my God,” I breathed. “Poosh!”

She simply cocked her head at me, holding on tight to the fabric that used to be my underwear.

I darted forward and snatched them away. She’d completely torn them apart, and I felt a pang of sadness.

They were new.

I liked those.

Damn it.

I spied Noah’s trashcan in the corner and tossed the panties into it. “Bad Poosh!” I said, pointing at her.

She whined and looked at me with big, wide eyes.

How the hell did you stay mad at that?

“Shit.” I bent over and scratched her behind the ears. Damn dog. How was I supposed to punish such a cute little sweetheart?

A cute little sweetheart who’d just eaten my panties.

Goddamn it.

I ran back upstairs and into the bedroom where I grabbed my phone to message Noah again.

ME: Your dog ate my panties.

I really hoped he was the only person who saw that message.

Like, really hoped.

My phone buzzed, and I knew it was Noah before I even looked at the screen. “Hey. Aren’t you working?” I answered.

“Poosh did what?” was his reply.

“She ate my underwear,” I said. “I took a shower, and when I came out, I couldn’t find my panties. I found her in her bed with them and they’re totally wrecked.”

“Shit. I’m so sorry. You don’t happen to have any stashed in your purse, do you?”