Page 107 of Not in Love

My heart leaped in my throat. I stepped inside—and was assaulted once again.

“Down, Tiny,” Eli drawled, not bothering to hide his delight at the way his dog’s paws rested on my midriff. “I’m not letting her leave anytime soon. You’ll get to snuggle later.” Tiny licked my chin, and I flinched.

“I don’t really snuggle.”

“Color me shocked.” He took off his glasses and set them next to a stack of unopened mail. Not Harkness’s Eli anymore, but mine.

Mine.

It was half-ridiculous and all pathetic to think of him in those terms, but relief flooded me anyway. “Is it a vanity thing?” I asked.

“What?” He grabbed something from a shelf, and Tiny circled us and jumped up and down, clearly in the middle of a galvanic episode. Were all dogs this shamelessly happy? Science should study their blood. Come up with good drugs.

“The glasses. You only wear them at work. Are you trying to come across less like a former hockey player and more like a nerd?”

“I only wear them at work because, according to my ophthalmologist, I have the eyesight of a man in his eighth decade and need glasses for reading and staring at computer screens.”

“Ah.”

“But thank you for telling me that I look like a dense jock.”

“I didn’t—”

“Shh. I know. Let’s go.” He unspooled some kind of flat rope. It was . . .

Oh no. “Where?”

He hooked the rope to Tiny’s collar. “To walk my dog.”

I took a step back, and he followed. Gently pried my hand from my side and slid the leash around my wrist. “Eli, I shouldn’t be in charge of—”

“If you stay, you’re going to have to earn your keep.”

I shook my head. “I’m not really a—”

“Pet person?” He looked at me like nothing I could have said would surprise him. Like he knew not just the contours, but also the shaded, buried parts of me. At the very least, he knew that they existed. “Let’s go.” His voice was kind but adamant, and I had no choice.

I followed Tiny’s indiscernible interests all over the sidewalk, feeling his leash tug determinedly at my fingers. Several neighbors were out, walking their own dogs, and they stopped often to exchange pleasantries (with Eli) and vigorous butt-sniffings (Tiny).

“Not what I had in mind when I came over,” I muttered, pulled in the direction of Tiny’s whims. Eli seemed unfazed, and never made a move to take the leash from me, not even when Tiny freed himself to chase a squirrel, forcing me to run after him in what had to be a Looney Tunes–worthy display.

“Don’t worry, I will fuck you later,” Eli murmured once I was back at his side, nodding at an elderly lady who was walking a poodle that looked eerily like her. I glanced at Tiny, then Eli. There was a resemblance there, too—the messy, curly brown hair. Was this a thing? “But since you came to me, I figured we could do things my way.”

“We always do things your way.”

“Do we?”

We didn’t, and I knew it. Since the very start, I’d been the one setting boundaries, making requests, building fences. Probably because, since the very start, I’d sensed he’d be willing to push past them. His role had been well defined: respect my wishes, follow my lead.

But after the last few days, it was obvious that he wanted a hazy, undefined more. Which was hazily, undefinedly terrifying.

“Don’t worry, Rue. I’m not going to ask you for anything scandalous, like to skate with me.” He glanced at me in tender amusement, as if I were a child who still believed in leprechauns at the end of the rainbow. “This is not a date, or anything as gross and morally perverted as that.”

And yet, it felt just as disturbing. Back at his house, he took a couple of minutes to send the files to his team, and then sat me on a stool while he prepared something with couscous and stir-fry and spicy, mouthwatering scents.

“Is this the last of your signature dishes?”

“Yup. I’m going to have to learn a few more if I want to keep luring you here.”

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