As Jillian descends the steps it dawns on me that this ball of fur intends to stay here. In my house.

“What the hell, Chloe? You adopted a dog?”

“No. I’m fostering a dog.” She buries her face into his curly mane. “Don’t worry. Baxter’s temporary, just like me.”

She lifts her eyes to mine and I see the challenge there.

“No. No way. No dogs. We had this conversation last week in the car.”

“You said dogs were messy. Baxter is fully house-trained and he’s hypoallergenic. No shedding.”

“I don’t have time for a dog.”

“Baxter isn’t for you. He’s for me. I’ll be taking care of him.” She nuzzles his nose and a ripple of jealousy settles into my gut. It’s ridiculous. I’m not jealous of a dog.

Jillian returns with a bag full of supplies.

“Everything is in here. Even a small supply of food. He prefers a vegan diet, all-natural ingredients made from scratch.”

I shoot Chloe a death glare, but she just smiles.

“I’ll take care of it.” Shifting Baxter to one side, she accepts the bag from Jillian. “Thank you.”

“What’s the return policy?” I ask. Both women’s heads jerk in my direction.

Jillian gives me a small smile. “If this pairing doesn’t work out, you’re free to bring him back to the rescue shelter, but ideally we’d love for Baxter to stay here until he matches with his forever home.”

“And how long will that be?” I ask.

“It could be next week; it could be a few months.”

“Thank you, Jillian.” Chloe sees her to the door.

When she returns, I stare at the ball of fur in her arms.

“You can keep him for a day,” I say.

“What?”

“It’ll be like a dog for a day. Then he needs to go back.”

“That’s silly.”

“Chloe, I’m serious,” I say, with an edge to my tone.

“I am, too.” She doesn’t back down. “I’m putting it on my list.”

“You can’t do that.”

“What do you mean? You said anything as long as it doesn’t interfere with your business deal or our fake relationship.”

Fuck. She’s right. A dog, while not anything I want to deal with, fits into the parameters of the agreement I spelled out. And he won’t be here permanently. He’s temporary, like Chloe.

Chloe notices the moment that I realize this, her face lighting up even brighter than it did when she was snuggling Baxter. I’ve never seen her smile like that. She’s happy. The dog makes her happy. Looking at Chloe my chest feels tight, but I refuse to acknowledge what it could mean.

“Fine,” I mutter.

“You say that like you’re allowing it, not like you had no choice.”