“Yeah.” CeCe was a short woman with tall opinions.

“She and Genevieve’s mom, Caroline, are going to host a Valentine’s party. It’s the kind of event they love to do. Big. All their friends and family members will be there, from eighty-year-olds down to teenagers. Mom wants you to come.”

“No.”

“She talks to me about it every day.”

“Still no.”

“Will you come if I take this dog home with me for the night?” Laugh lines creased the skin around Ben’s eyes.

“No.” As little as he wanted to keep the dog overnight, Luke wanted to attend a Valentine’s Day party much less.

I should have taken Ben up on his offer, Luke thought at 2:40 a.m. What had he been thinking? Lying on his side, he clamped a pillow over his exposed ear. No Valentine’s Day party could be worse than this. The puppy had more energy than a football fan hopped up on Red Bull.

Finley had said a lot of things to him about crate training, house training, and putting the puppy on a schedule because puppies loved routine.

At this point he could not have cared less about crate training, house training, or a routine. His goal was far simpler. Keep the dog alive until its rightful owners—and he couldn’t imagine who’d be idiot enough to adopt this puppy—took it home.

He just wished he knew how to make the job of keeping the dog alive easier on himself.

Before he’d stretched out in bed, he’d moved the playpen and crate into his bedroom because Finley had told him it would be comforting for the puppy to sense his presence through the night.

She’d said nothing about how uncomfortable it would be for him to sense her loud, unhappy presence through the night.

With a groan, he stretched his torso off the side of the bed and rooted around until he caught hold of the puppy in the dark. She easily fit inside the grip of one hand. He gently pressed her into the angle between the mattress and his bare chest.

She tried to scramble away, upset and shaking. No doubt she was searching for Ben, the love of her life.

Looping a finger around her collar, he kept her in place. In his most soothing voice, he whispered, “Ben’s not here, which means you’re stuck with me, and I really, really dislike you. You’re making my life hell, and if I could sell you to a dog meat distributor in exchange for sleep, I would.”

She continued to strain against his hold, but not as frantically.