My eyes flick to the street outside, and I see a paparazzo arrive on a motorbike, followed by another. Clearly, it is a slow news week. Before they have their cameras ready, I reach out my fingers and brush Willow's hand, the one I want to hold but can’t. I just want to feel her skin on mine.

“None. Let’s go,” I say, looking for the nearest exit.

“No, you need to choose one. You can’t leave them all here,” she says, looking up at me, jutting out her lower lip, my eyes flicking to it quickly before I look back into her eyes. I want to lean down and bite it. I want to throw her over my shoulder, take her to my apartment, and spank her perfect ass. God, the things I want to do to this woman. She smiles at me then, her finger slightly curving around my own. We are not holding hands, merely touching, but the heat in our touch is everything. The two of us are so close to combusting, I can feel it. Her little touches scorch my skin, and I smile back, knowing that we are meant to be professional today, yet she can’t help but reach for me. I fucking love it.

“You stick that lip out at me again, and you need to be prepared for the consequences, Cupcake,” I growl, meaning every word.

“Cupcake?” she asks me with her brow raised.

“Sweet, individual, and delicious. Sums you up.” It also helps that she smells as sweet as a cupcake most of the time, her baking skills obviously getting a regular workout. She looks at me with a smile that could light up the entire universe, her eyes sparkling. Happy Willow is fucking illuminating, and I want to have her glowing every damn day.

“Paps have arrived,” I say to her, not wanting to break the moment, but I am already protective of her.

“Hmmm…” she hums, looking out the window as she snatches her hand back, and I scowl.

“Okay, back to these dogs. You can’t leave without one.” Her tone turns professional now, her eyes running over the cages.

“I can. They were here when we got here.” One thing I have learned from our time together is she is focused on work, and right now, I am her work, so getting me a dog is something she is taking very seriously. “What about when I travel? Who will look after it then?”

“A kennel or your brothers or depending on which one you get, I can dog sit.” All of a sudden, I want every damn dog in this place.

“They look happy enough here, no?” It is clean, the staff seem friendly, and the dogs are well kept.

“Yes, but they need a forever home, Tennyson.” I see the sadness in her eyes, knowing if she could rescue all of them, she would. This woman may be sassy and smart, but her heart is huge.

“Let me guess, you want to rescue all of them, am I right?”

“They should all have homes…” she grumbles, looking around at all the dogs as they bark and run around in their designated areas.

“Maybe I should just buy you this entire facility as their home for good,” I tease her, kind of liking the idea actually.

“Don’t you dare. We have to rein in your spending, not do more of it,” she sasses, thinking about me and my reputation again.

“Fine, what about him?” She could ask me for anything right now, and I would agree. I flick my head to one I have been eyeing since we came in, which I am sure is a mix of breeds, but looks like he has a bit of life to him.

“Ohhhh, too cute! His name is Bob!” she says, walking up to the cage and reading over his information.

“Bob? Who the fuck names a dog 'Bob’?” It needs to be something more manly. Like Buster or Beast.

“I named a cat Betty,” she says, coming chest to chest with me.

“Yeah, but that’s you,” I say with a shrug.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her hand finds her hip. It’s supposed to be feisty, but it’s adorable.

“You know. You’re…” I look her up and down, my favorite sight, and I wave my hands over her appearance.

“I’m what?” Her eyes thin, her brow quirked.

“You know, cute and stuff.” I’m not able to hide the small grin appearing at ruffling her feathers.

“Cute? You think I’m cute?” she asks, her stance softening a little.

“Among other things, but cute is the most G-rated option I can think of.” Her body relaxes, and she rolls her eyes.

“Are you rolling your eyes at me?” I don’t think anyone else has ever rolled their eyes at me before, not like she does.

“So what if I am?” she asks, her stance strong again, and I chuckle. I am going to have so much fun fucking the sass right out of her. I am about to come back to her with a smart quip of my own, but I see a flash of cameras, and I straighten my spine. Willow does the same, putting distance between us that I don’t like.