Page 36 of A Little Tempting

Her eyes pop back open. “What do you need to grab?”

“It’s a surprise. Trust me?”

“Yeah, sounds like an excellent idea,” she snarks.

I chuckle softly. “Are you gonna close them or not?”

Her lids flutter, and she takes a deep breath, settling back against the tree. “Fiiiine.”

“Good girl.”

“I’m not a dog.”

“Nah, you’re my good girl,” I remind her.

Her lips purse. “I’m not yours, either.”

“Yet.”

I jog back to my car, noticing Everett’s SUV still parked where it was. Ignoring him, I open the back door and pull out the kennel I’d tucked inside. There are perks to knowing certain people, and even though I rarely call in favors from my connections, I couldn’t help it with this one.

Careful not to jostle the puppy, I head back to where Dylan hangs out. The wrinkles between her brows have softened, and she looks almost peaceful as she tilts her head up at the sky, soaking in the rays of sunshine peeking through the branches while keeping her eyes firmly closed like a good girl.

Lifting my camera with one hand, I snap another photo, and she flinches, the quiet sound pulling her back to the photo shoot instead of the calm reality she slipped into while I was away.

“Don’t open your eyes until I tell you,” I remind her.

I set the kennel down and mess with the camera settings until I’m confident they’re where I want them. Once I’m satisfied, I unlock the kennel and tuck the wiggly puppy under my arm.

“You ready?” I ask.

“Ready for what?”

“Don’t open,” I repeat while the puppy fidgets in my hold, desperate to run its little heart out. It’s small and white, with big brown eyes, floppy ears, and a long, curly tail whipping faster and faster with every passing second.

“Seriously, what’s that sound?” she asks.

I let the puppy go a few feet from Dylan’s lap, and it climbs up her thighs. With a gasp, Dylan’s eyes pop open, and she picks the puppy up, a light squeal slipping past her parted lips.

“Shut up.” She brings the puppy an inch from her nose, and it licks the tip with its little pink tongue. With a laugh, Dylan’s entire expression lights up like a little kid on Christmas morning. Well, a kid who wasn’t with a shitty dad on Christmas.

Wielding my camera, I take photo after photo. Some are close-ups, while others are more landscape and show the entire ambiance Dylan’s basking in. I love how her nose scrunches and her eyes brighten whenever the puppy steals a kiss. She snuggles closer, her entire body radiating with pure, uninhibited joy in the setting sun.

I knew she needed a distraction from me and the camera if I had any hope of pulling this off. But seeing her like this? It’s even better than I expected. I catch myself smiling behind the camera as I snap another dozen pictures.

“Where’d you get a dog?” she asks. “Is she yours?”

I shake my head. “Nah. A friend’s.”

“And your friend let you borrow their puppy for the afternoon?”

“I can be convincing.”

Her eyes narrow as if she doesn’t believe me. She gives in almost instantly, muttering, “That, I believe,” against the fluffball’s white fur. “So I guess this means I can’t keep her, right?”

“Afraid not.”

“Bummer.” She kisses the top of the puppy’s head. “Well, I hope you got what you came for because if I have to hold her for another second, I might steal her from your friend.”

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