Page 133 of Puck Yes

Roxy watches me eagerly from her spot on the floor in the main bedroom, probably with the hope that I have a secret burger stashed somewhere. Her tail twitches, a telltale sign where her heart really is.

“Fine. I’ll take your silence as two paws up.”

She wags her tail harder. Wow, she really thinks I have food for her, the cute little beggar.

I gather the silky-soft material of my dress and bend to give her a scratch under the chin. But she offers me a tongue in return. Okay, maybe she did want a kiss.

“I love you too,” I coo, giving a soft kiss to her even softer little nose. Then I rise and let the dress fall against my legs, the material swishing as I leave the bedroom in my gala finest, my girl trotting beside me, decked out in her red-and-white holiday bandana with illustrations of dog bones on it.

Before I even reach the living room, though, I hear the debate.

“You are the raccoon on meth,” Hayes accuses.

With a confident chuckle, Stefan says, “No. It’s Ivy.”

I stop and listen, my lips twitching in amusement.

“No. She’s organized. You just appear to be,” Hayes says.

“Pfft.”

“Just admit it.”

I stifle a laugh.

“I admit nothing,” Stefan says, and I imagine he’s leaning back in a chair, casual and easy, holding a tumbler of scotch.

Hayes is relentless though. “In every home, there’s one person who stacks the dishwasher like a Scandinavian architect and the other like a raccoon on meth.”

“Obviously, I’m the architect. Isn’t that what I’ve been all along?”

Stefan makes a good point, and it sounds likecase closed.

Roxy and I proceed, and when we turn the corner, warmth flows over me. My men look so good, relaxed at home. They’re both wearing tailored suits. Stefan lounges on the couch, decked out in a dark blue suit that matches his gorgeous eyes and hugs his strong frame. In one hand, he holds a tumbler of amber liquid. Hayes, dressed in a dark charcoal suit, leans against the mantel where stockings are hung with care. Roxy barks a hello, announcing our presence.

In tandem, the men turn to me and jaws drop.

“Wow.”

“Gorgeous.”

“You look...”

“Incredible.”

Their praise feels like champagne bubbling through my body, but I hold up a hand. “I have a confession.”

Concern flashes in Hayes’s dark eyes. He stares hard at me, asking silently,Are we doing this right now?

But I need to set the record straight. “I’m the raccoon on meth,” I say pointing to my chest.

Stefan’s grin stretches across his handsome face, and he looks pointedly at his teammate. “Told you so.”

Hayes shakes his head like he’s disappointed in me. “I stand corrected.”

“It seems we have two architects and one feral trash panda,” I say.

Hayes’s expression softens. “But you’re our trash panda.”

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