Page 2 of Love in the Net
“Unfortunately.” I grab Waffles’ leash and pull him back as he starts inching toward the man again. Or maybe it’s the mud that calls him. He looks over to the border collie and whines. “He’s mine. I’m really, really sorry. I’ll pay for your dry cleaning or—or whatever you need.”
The man puts his hand in mine, and I lock my legs.
I’m pretty sure that’s my mistake. Or maybe it’s that my hand goes numb when his skin meets mine. His eyes widen slightly, then a gorgeous smile fills his face.
He starts to stand, but there’s no way I can pull him up. He’s not fat by any means, but he’s got the kind of bulk I see in professional athletes.
The next thing I know, I’m falling forward. Mr. Pro Athlete grunts as he splashes in the mud puddle for a second time, and he groans as I land in his lap.
Instant heat burns through me, as if I’ve been put inside one of my commercial ovens with the warmth coming at me from every direction.
To my surprise, the man’s arms come around me and hold me in place. “That didn’t work so well.”
I’m so close to him, I can count the individual freckles across his cheeks and nose. “I’m normally really strong,” I say stupidly. “I do a lot of kneading.”
“Kneading.” He coughs, his grin enormous. Then he loses the battle against the laugh obviously boiling inside him, because it flows from his mouth. “I don’t think that counts as weight lifting, sweetheart.”
I startle as a wet dog tongue swipes up my arm. “Ooh.”
“Bear,” the man barks. “Knock it off.” His eyes come back to mine. “I’m Liam. Who do I have the pleasure of holding?”
“Claire,” I murmur, not sure why my heartbeat is fluttering around like the autumn leaves about to be blown from the trees.
Both of his dogs crowd in even closer to him, and Waffles certainly can’t be left out.
“You own the dog bakery?”
“Yes,” I say, suddenly realizing I’m sitting on this man’s lap in a very public park. And oh, fetch it all, I have one hand curled around the back of his head. I pull that back like he’s caught fire, and I slide to my knees in the mud despite these being my best pair of skinny jeans.
I get myself to my feet in the most un-sexy way possible, and when I turn to face Liam, he’s standing too. And he didn’t even have to grunt and groan to do it.
He brushes himself off as best he can, but the mud isn’t going anywhere. His Bernese Mountain Dog nudges his leg, and he reaches down to scratch the dog’s head, his gruff expression softening for just a moment.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” he asks. “Besides Waffles.” He smiles at where my golden retriever is licking my fingers.
I yank them back. “Um, no.”
“Great, so you can go out with me.”
I blink at him, sure that wasn’t him asking me out. My heart pounds as I say, “Absolutely not.”
His eyebrows go up. “Absolutely not? What does that mean?”
“It means, Mister Liam, that if you want to go out with me, it’s the gentlemanly thing to do would be to ask.”
“Ask.”
“Yes, you know, like to phrase it like a question,” I say. “One’s voice usually pitches up, like this: How do you have such broad shoulders?”
The corner of his mouth quirks up into what might actually be a smile. It’s barely there, but it’s enough to make my stomach do a fantastic little flip.
Someone yells his name before he can phrase anything like a question, and his attention gets diverted. When it comes back to me, he says, “Can I have your number?”
And that’s so a question.
My face flames, and I reach up to push my curls out of my face, only to remember I secured them back with a pink paw-print bandana. I give him my number, and Liam says, “Come on, guys. Let’s go see Uncle Bruce.”
He takes a step away, his dogs completely off-leash. Then he turns back to me and says, “I’ll call you later.”
