Page 29 of Once Upon a Boyband
I’m hyper aware of every contact point between us. The warm skin on her legs pressing into my palms, the heat ofher body against my back, her arms resting loosely across my chest where they’re wrapped around my neck. She’s comfortable with me—I can tell. Things are easy between us.
What if telling her ruins all that?
It’s not that I think she’ll care, exactly. But I do think it might make things weird. That it could makehernervous or make her overthink things like I’m overthinking now.
I’m positive it will make her ask questions, and I can’t think of anything that would ruin the night faster than having to wade through all the drama surrounding my departure from the band. It’s the last way I’d like to end our date.
Still. I can’t lie to her.
And that thought is more important than all the others.
So I’ll tell her. If she brings up the fact that I share a last name with her favorite boyband member, I’ll own it. Admit everything.
“It’s Driscoll,” I say as casually as I can. We reach the barn, and I do a half-squat to lower Laney’s feet to the smooth concrete landing outside the door.
“Adam Driscoll,” she repeats once she’s steady on her feet. “I like that name.”
That’s it. That’s all she says.
I shouldn’t feel so relieved, because Ishouldtell Laney the truth.
And I will. I absolutely will.
Just not yet.
I make fast work of unlocking the door and sliding it open, then I turn on the interior lights. The puppies are almost entirely weaned at this point, so they’re spending good chunks of the day away from their mom, but they’re alltogether at night, in an oversized kennel near the front of the barn.
When I converted the barn into a rescue space, I hoped to keep as much of the original wood as possible, simply converting stalls into kennels. But the more I learned about keeping dogs healthy and safe and clean, the less of a good idea that seemed. Laney’s dad was the one who finally convinced me to have new epoxy floors put in and keep the spaces for the dogs as minimalist as possible. There are still wooden rafters overhead, but everything else in the barn is clean and modern and practical.
At least I don’t have to worry about Laney’s bare feet in here.
But then, something tells me Laney wouldn’t care either way.
The minute we’re inside the kennel with the puppies, she’s sitting on the floor, legs out in front of her and ankles crossed like she doesn’t have a care in the world. The puppies are crawling all over her, and she’s smiling wide as she reaches for Ringo.
I run to the supply room by the door and grab an old blanket. “Here,” I say, unfolding it as I walk back. “At least sit on this.”
She dutifully shifts over and lets me spread out the blanket, then scoots so her back is against the wall, Ringo tucked against her chest.
“I love him,” she says as he leans up and licks the bottom of her chin.
“Then he’s yours,” I say.
She bites her lip. “I’ll have to put up a fence in my backyard.”
“I’ll help you build it,” I say.
She lifts an eyebrow. “What if my backyard is enormous?”
“I’ll…hire a crew to help you build it.”
She lets out a laugh. “So therearelimits to what you can do. I was beginning to think you were perfect.”
I sit down beside her and pick up the closest puppy—Diana. “How big of a yard are we talking? I didn’t say Icouldn’tbuild the entire thing. I’m just saying I wouldn’t be opposed to a more efficient method.”
“It’s actually pretty small,” she says. She leans her shoulder into mine and settles there, the warmth of her filtering through the thin fabric of my shirt. “Maybe a quarter of an acre? And there’s already a fence along one side. It wouldn’t take much to fence in the rest.”
“I’m all you need, then. I could knock that out in a weekend.”
