Page 69 of If Tomorrow Never Comes

She told him about her love for art and photography, and how working on her high school yearbook committee had led to her interest in website and graphic design. He learned more about her parents and the bookstore they owned, and he regaled her with stories of the trouble he and Blythe often got into when they were kids.

He only ended the call when Ian came in, loud and a little tipsy, and Jamie wasn’t ready to answer questions about Elliott yet. He avoided Ian’s inquiry into who he was talking to, and thankfully, his friend moved on, forgetting about it moments later.

It wasn’t so easy for Jamie, and when he climbed into bed to get some sleep, Elliott Holland wasn’t far from his mind.

Chapter Twenty-One

Elliott

After spending the weekend with Hank, Elliott desperately wanted a dog.

But not just any dog. She wanted Hank. He’d been the best running buddy, cuddle buddy, and meal buddy.

She loved him.

Her heart broke a little at the knock on her door Sunday evening. Hank let out a bark and she laughed.

“That’s just your dad.”

She opened the door and there he was, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. His wavy blond hair was messy and perfect, the dark frames of his glasses the tiniest bit crooked across his nose. His hazel eyes looked tired and happy as they scanned her face.

He was so handsome.

She swallowed, ignoring her body’s plea to step forward and into his personal space. “How was it?”

“Good. Fun.”

“Win anything?”

His cheeks flushed, from pride or embarrassment she wasn’t sure, and he unzipped the side compartment of his bag to pull out a tiny trophy.

She giggled and clapped her palm across her mouth. “I’m sorry.”

He glared at her even as a smile tipped his lips. “It’s fine. You can be jealous.”

“Oh, I am. A participation trophy?”

“Excuse you. This is second place in the Work Climb category.”

She squinted and leaned forward. “Ah. So it is.”

“That’s enough,” he growled, stuffing the trophy back into his bag. “Where’s my dog?”

Choking back another laugh, she opened the door wider and stepped aside. Hank hadn’t moved from his spot on the couch.

“Seriously?” Jamie asked him. “First my dog sitter makes fun of my trophy, and now my dog doesn’t even care I’m home.”

Hank lifted his head to regard Jamie, his tail wagging.

Jamie dropped his bag and crouched down, slapping his thigh. “Come on, boy. I missed you.”

That was all it took. A blur of yellow fur launched off the couch and darted into Jamie’s arms, slathering kisses all over his face.

Elliott couldn’t blame him, honestly. If Jamie were hers, she’d greet him that way, too.

“He’s already had a run today,” she said, gathering a few toys scattered around the couch. If she stood there watching how adorable they were together, she might do something stupid, like tell Jamie she’d missed him. “And I fed him dinner.”

“How many treats did he weasel out of you?” Jamie gave Hank a final scratch and stood, a grin on his face and one eyebrow raised.

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