I’d been so preoccupied with the dog and with petting it that I had not noticed its owner striding down my hall.
Not until two sock-clad feet stopped beside the paws of the dog.
“Maggie,” the voice said, warm and hoarse at the same time.
I held my breath, concentrating on the socks for a moment more before wondering why he didn’t have shoes on before I found the courage to look up at him.
Yep, it was Rowan standing in front of me. Not wearing any shoes. With his dog. He was still wearing worn jeans, a tight tee that accentuated his large, muscular biceps. His hat was on backward, his sexiness driving me insane.
“Her name.” He motioned down to the dog I was petting. “Maggie.”
I tried to figure out how this rugged, hulking alpha came to own an adorable and sweet chocolate lab called Maggie.
“She’s cute,” I said, my voice frustratingly thin and high.
“She likes you,” he replied, eyes warm yet intense.
My shoulders felt strained, carrying the weight of that gaze. My heart thrashed in my chest then moved up into my throat.
Fiona was still here somewhere. I swear, her presence still lingered. But I had blinders on. All I could see was Rowan. And Maggie.
We didn’t talk for a long moment. Or maybe it wasn’t that long. Maybe it was only a handful of seconds. Time seemed to lose its meaning when I was in Rowan’s presence.
“What are you doing here?” I finally asked.
“I’m stayin’ here,” he declared in a gruff tone.
My eyes would’ve popped out of my head if I were a cartoon character. Since I wasn’t one, they just bulged in disbelief.
“What?” I stuttered, clutching my wine glass for dear life. It seemed as if the world had turned upside down in the space of one day. About thirty hours ago, I’d been making a ‘dick of myself’—as Fiona would say, and aptly, might I add—in front of this man. Sure, he’d been friendly and almost flirty, but he was quite obviously being polite because I was the woman who made the croissants and had the fancy coffee machine. He enjoyed his croissants and fancy coffee.
Him humoring me and vaguely flirting made sense, then.
Him manhandling me—tenderly and in a way that inexplicably made my toes curl—stroking my skin gently, calling me ‘cupcake’ and then going off to presumably defend my honor did not make sense.
And him turning up at my house, with his dog, announcing that he was going to be staying in my house certainly did not make sense.
Rowan Derrick was in my house. Amongst all of my books, my cushions, my girly yet classy rugs and ornaments. My ceilings were high—with the gorgeous, original crown molding—yet somehow he looked too large for my open plan room. Like my entire house had shrunk with him in it.
“We’re stayin’,” he reiterated, looking down at the dog that was sitting obediently at his side. His eyes then went around the room, to my pink velvet sofa, the cream armchairs. “That’s if you allow dogs in the house. Probably should’ve asked that first.”
My mind was running at a hundred miles a minute, trying to catch up, trying to gauge how likely it was that I was having some kind of break from reality or extremely vivid dream. Maybe I’d been in a really bad car accident, and now I was in a coma.
I focused on the dog, who was tilting her head at me inquisitively. “Yes, I allow dogs in the house,” I replied, still staring into those curious eyes. “I’m not a monster.”
Somehow, my gaze had drifted up to his, where his eyes were… I hated to say sparkling, but there was no other word to describe them. Cue pebbled nipples and uncomfortable heat in my nether regions. Not uncomfortable bad, but uncomfortable because it was highly inappropriate to be experiencing that heat in front of a dog, my best friend and the object of my sexual fantasies.
“It’s settled then.”
Again, my eyes attempted to pop from my head. “It is not settled,” I snapped, putting my hands on my hips. “There is absolutely no reason for you and your dog, no matter how adorable…” I stifled the groan inching up my throat, “I mean the dog, the dog is adorable,” I corrected quickly. “Despite that, there is no reason for either of you to stay here.”
Rowan’s gaze hardened as it focused on my eye, the throbbing part of my eye. “That right there is a reason.”
I tilted my head to regard him, but not in the same way Maggie had. There was a little more hostility in my head tilt. “So, you’re here to ensure that I don’t run into any cabinets?” I asked dryly.
The twinkling in his eyes disappeared. “To ensure that the man who was responsible for the bruises on your arms and you running into a cabinet to get out of his grip doesn’t return.”