Page 52 of Tamed to Be Messy

A Dog’s Journey. Once again, very apropos. “No, I haven’t.”

His grin is slow and sweet. “You’ll like it.”

“You’ve seen it already?”

“Yeah, but I don’t mind watching it again.”

Who is this man who loves turtles and dog movies? I’m discovering there are way more facets to Nick than I realized.

Leaning over me, he tugs the blanket draped over the side arm and arranges it over my legs. “You looked like you were getting cold outside.”

He noticed I was chilled? Is he watching out for me?

On one of my dates with Bryan, he took me to this swanky place downtown. When we reached a crosswalk about to turn red, he sprinted across without even looking back and kept walking, while I wound up stuck waiting for the pedestrian light to change again. He stopped a few feet past the light when he finally realized I wasn’t there and turned around with this baffled expression on his face.

Looking back, I think that may have been the beginning of the end. I mean, I’m a grown woman, capable of watching out for herself. I’m sure it sounds silly, but part of me really wanted Bryan to look out for me…protect me. Make me feel cherished.

Like Nick just did.

“Thank you,” I whisper as I tug the blanket up and snuggle into the cushions.

He leans back, his arm draped across the top of the couch and behind my head, and picks up the remote with his other hand to start the movie.

I don’t know precisely when I dozed off, but something fiddling with my curls brings me back to semi-consciousness. I peek open my eyes at Bandit’s soft yip and catch Nick’s arm glide over me as he leaves the couch.

He lifts Bandit out of the playpen, whispering, “Let’s get you outside, Bandy-boy.”

I can’t help but smile at his endearing nickname. The TV’s off, and the clock nearby shows it’s almost ten. While they’re outside, I fold the blanket and clean up the takeout containers, finishing as he returns in with Bandit.

“Sorry we woke you.” He settles Bandit in the playpen.

“It’s okay. I should go anyway.” I grab my purse and walk toward the door.

Nick meets me there. “You sure you’re good to drive home? My bed is super comfy.”

I blink as his eyes widen. And I think he’s blushing.

He shakes his head. “No, I mean, you can have the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

A soft giggle slips out. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m fine. And I prefer my own bed. But thank you.”

He dons a sheepish grin. “Anytime. And thank you for those hushpuppies.”

I smile. “Anytime.”

As I reach for the door, Nick points to my curls. “May I?”

I touch the side of my head. “Do I have food in my hair or something?”

He tucks a wayward curl behind my ear with an uncharacteristically shy yet gentle expression on his face. “It was sticking out. Probably from sleeping.”

His gesture feels so familiar yet intimate.

Cheeks growing warm, I swallow. “Thank you.”

He nods and opens the door.

With a short wave, I zip down the sidewalk to my car, hoping he didn’t notice my blush. Once I get in, I let out a long, noisy exhale. And I’m zinging all over the place from his gentle touch on my hair because I’m almost certain the sensation that woke me earlier was Nick touching my hair.

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