And, apparently, hitting on his dog.

The only things I had going for me right now was that I had a good job that I loved, a business I’d one day inherit half of, and I was damn good in bed.

Actually, as far as pros and cons went, I was doing all right.

Still, I knew I wanted to find out where this would go. It’d been such a long time since I’d met someone who I felt like this about. Sure, I’d dated and fooled around and casually spent time with people, but a relationship…

No. It’d been forever.

I didn’t know what to do with these feelings. I didn’t know exactly how he felt. I knew we had this amazing connection and that he made me laugh and feel comfortable. I hoped he felt the same way I did.

And, let’s face it: one of the biggest hurdles in any relationship was sharing the television remote.

We already knew we were compatible in that regard, given our conversations about the worst characters ever. We hadn’t even gotten started on the best ones.

I pursed my lips and pulled myself to sit on the island. My legs swung against the gray cupboard beneath me, and I tugged the bottom hem of Noah’s shirt down over my thighs. I’d showered since he’d left to take Poosh out, but I didn’t want to put my jeans back on, so…

Here I was.

Wearing his shirt.

Like it was totally normal for me to be sitting here in one of his old t-shirts, drinking his water, on his kitchen counter.

Maybe it was normal—or it would be. One day.

I could hope, right? I could hope that one day this might be totally normal.

The front door opened, and I peered over my shoulder at the doorway.

“Get in, Poosh. No, the stick is too big. You can’t take it—damn it, Poosh!”

What the hell was going on?

I jumped off the counter and set my water down, then headed toward the front door. I stopped dead in the hallway when I saw why Poosh was stuck.

This tiny chihuahua had a really, really long stick in her mouth.

And she was desperately trying to get it into the house, but she couldn’t. It was longer than the door was wide, and she was never getting it inside.

“How is she even carrying that?” I dragged my gaze up to meet Noah’s. “The stick is literally bigger than she is.”

“It’s just long,” he said, exasperation in his tone. “It’s not a log or anything, but it’s strong enough that it won’t snap and let her inside.”

“Why won’t she drop it?”

“I didn’t think of that.” He stared at me. “She’s attached to it. She’s been carrying it since the park.”

“How?”

“I don’t know.” He sighed. “Did you shower?”

“My hair didn’t wash itself,” I replied dryly. “I showered. Why?”

“You’re still wearing my shirt, that’s all.”

“I didn’t want to put my jeans on.”