Page 31 of The Way You Hurt Me

Except it's one o'clock on a cold Saturday afternoon in January. Too late for coffee, too early for wine. A hot chocolate sounds heavenly.

Stop, stop, stop. He was being friendly, that's all.

The pup on my lap gets up on its little hind legs, paws reaching my breasts, and starts to lick my chin, as if sensing I needed the distraction.

I lower my gaze to it. Her. She’s a bit fluffier than some of the others. A couple of the adults have long hair, and I'm guessing this one will too. The gray fluff looks like down more than fur. She's like a little wolf.

"You are just too adorable for words," I tell her.

Her tail wiggles happily, and I grin. "Want some yummy paste?"

The wee ones never had food, just milk, so like the vet showed me, I left the puppy food to soften in some warm water, adding the nutritional paste they'll need to supplement their diets for a while. Wolfie, like all the puppies, is more than happy to devour her little portion, and directs that irresistible puppy-dog look to me once she's licked it all, begging for extra.

"In a little while," I promise.

To avoid making them sick, for now I'm supposed to feed them small quantities often.

She scoots down on my Ugg boots, settling for a nap, and I can’t help letting her. But after a while, I have to put her back in the pen. The others also need social time.

I've only just finished with the last puppy, and started with the first adult, who didn't even growl when I picked him up, when the door opens up again.

I hear his voice and his footsteps before I see him, so it gives me a moment to brace myself.

He's talking in a language I don't understand, low and guttural. It sounds like a poem, a promise, a kiss.

Dimitri walks in, one hand holding a phone up to his ear, and shrugging off his gray suit jacket with the other.

Unprompted, I stand and approach him to help him remove the suit.

Bad idea. Bad Willow!

I didn't expect how wide those shoulders would feel underneath my hands. Taut muscles. And that ocean smell with apple and spice. It's all I can do not to bury my head in the jacket. Or better yet, the shirt—and the shoulder blades underneath.

How am I going to survive an entire weekend?

"I have to go," Dimitri finishes in English, before turning to me and stuffing his phone in his back pocket. "Ready?" he asks me.

I swallow the thickness gathered in my throat. What for? I have a feeling, whatever the question, the answer is absolutely no.

"We have to walk the pups, yes?"

Oh, right. Of course.

14

DIMITRI

It's a disaster. One of the mutts urinates on my shoe, the other, in the elevator, a third, on Willow's dress while she puts the harness on.

But she's laughing, so I don't entirely lose it, despite the chaos.

"They need to go," I grunt.

"I doubt you'll have issues finding home for the puppies once they're properly weaned and healthy." She sighs deeply, lifting a dark gray bundle to her chest. "I wish I could keep you, little Wolfie."

The lucky mutt paws her tits, knowing full well what it's doing, given the smug little tail wag.

"He'sa disgrace to your ancestry. All wolves weep when they think of their genes being thus defamed. Don't call him Wolfie.It's a personal insult."

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