Page 94 of The Girlfriend Zone

As much as I want to say I can do it all myself—I can buy my own tea, make my own dinner, carry my own bags—I don’t. Because for once, I don’t feel the intense, driving need to prove my independence. Before he opens the door, I impulsively reach for his forearm.

His jaw tightens when I touch him, like he’s at war inside.

“Miles,” I say, and his name comes out warm, breathy even.

“Yes?” His voice is strung tight with desire, but I don’t let go of his arm.

“Thank you. For everything.”

“No, thank you. You’re helping me.”

I curl my hand tighter, my thumb sliding softly across the hair on his forearm, tracing the arrow tattoo on his fair skin. “We both know you’re the one helping me.”

He dips his head, swallows roughly, then raises his face, blowing out a soldiering breath. “Come inside.”

When he opens the door, it feels like I’m stepping into something entirely new between us. But the moment evaporates as four small, barking hurricanes barrel toward us, and they have a lot of opinions.

An hour later, Miles is upstairs changing into his travel suit, getting ready to head to the team jet. He’s already given me the lay of the land and a litany of instructions for my charges—all of which I plan to follow religiously. He showed me their heated dog beds—he calls them their hot tubs—then sent me all the details on their food, on Boppity’s meds, and the code for the front door, as well as the location of the security camera. It’s in the living room, and he turns it on when he leaves in case he ever needs to check the interior of the home while he’s away. “I’ll make sure I don’t walk naked past it,” I said when he showed it to me.

“Or make sure you do,” he replied.

But that’d be trouble, so I won’t. Besides, I don’t generallyparade around anywhere naked, so it’ll be easy to keep my clothes on.

He showed me his scotch collection, telling me to feel free to have some. I stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “Things that will never happen,” I said. “I’m convinced scotch is espresso’s cousin. Meaning it isalsovile.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m going to pretend you never said that.”

“It won’t work. The truth of scotch and espresso will forever haunt you.”

“You might try to ruin my two favorite drinks, but I’m made of tougher stuff than that.”

“Is that a challenge?”

He laughed. “No, because you’d smile at me and win.”

“Good. Because I have excellent taste in beverages. I’m a white wine girlie till the day I die.”

“I’ll remember that.”

No doubt he will. He remembers everything.

He even installed the app on my phone for the dogs’ GPS trackers, assuring me they’d never escaped but his mom likes to have them wear them just in case. Makes sense—it’s always good to be cautious. My sister has an AirTag on her water bottle, so I sure as hell understand putting a GPS tracker on a precious pet.

With all this intel filed away in my brain and my phone, I focus on making Miles’s mom happy. I snap pics of the pack as they burrow into the blanket forts I built for them on the couch. I’m going to be the best dog-sitter ever. I’m going to take the best pictures ever. I’m going to ace this job.

“Smile for the camera,” I say to the dogs, making a clicking sound to get their attention.

Four little heads tilt toward me in perfect unison.

Yes! The money shot.

I snap the picture with my phone, already imagining how much Miles’s mom is going to love this one.

“Oh, I can see you’re already settling in.” Miles’s voice drifts behind me as he enters the room.

I lower my phone and turn around…

And my jaw falls open.

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