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The warning shouts pierced the peaceful hum of morning.

Carys Remington flinched, her head snapping up from the letter in her hands.

Around her, pedestrians scattered like startled birds.

A woman shrieked as her coffee exploded from her grip, the paper cup cartwheeling across the sidewalk and splattering caramel-colored liquid across the pavement.

Horns blared from the nearby intersection, and someone shouted, “Watch out!”

What in the world?

A pulse of unease struck Carys as she took in the chaos.

This wasn’t some casual city commotion. People were backing away with wide eyes and flailing arms. For a split second, she wondered if a gun had gone off.

Or maybe the police were chasing someone through Rittenhouse Square.

But there were no sirens, no uniformed officers.

Then she saw it.

A blur of motion. Brown and black fur. Massive. Barreling directly toward her like a freight train let loose from its rails.

A dog?

No—not just a dog. This was a leviathan in canine form.

Easily over a hundred pounds, it bounded across the grass and sidewalk with terrifying speed, eyes gleaming with either madness or pure, unfiltered joy.

Its ears were pinned back. Its mouth hung open, tongue lolling, thick ropes of drool catching the sunlight.

Carys’s breath caught, and the letter fluttered from her fingers.

The air suddenly smelled of crushed grass, hot asphalt, and something faintly metallic—fear, maybe.

Around her, the crowd’s panic crescendoed into a chorus of screams and scrambling footsteps.

She was frozen, her heart hammering in her chest like it was trying to punch its way out.

Move! her brain screamed. Do something!

But she didn’t.

She stared at the charging creature, caught in that strange, surreal moment when time slows to a trickle. The dog’s paws pounded the earth like war drums. His muscles bunched and flexed with every stride. Sunlight flared off his coat, revealing a sheen of health, strength, and raw power.

It was beautiful.

And it was coming straight for her.

Just as she braced herself for impact—legs locked, ready for pain—she noticed the tail.

Wagging.

Not low and menacing. High. Exuberant. The dog’s eyes weren’t filled with rage. They sparkled with joy, tongue flapping out the side of his mouth like a giant pink flag of peace.

Oh.

He thought this was a game.

Carys blinked, stunned. The beast wasn’t attacking. He was… playing.

A bark erupted from his chest—loud, deep, but unmistakably happy.

Carys dropped to her knees without hesitation, arms open wide. “Come here, you goofball!”

In that instant, the fear evaporated. The sun beat down on her shoulders. The city’s roar dulled beneath the thunder of approaching paws. The scent of the park—fresh mulch, warm cement, summer-blooming flowers—rushed in to replace the adrenaline in her lungs.

The dog let out a delighted yelp and launched into her arms like a missile of fluff and affection. She toppled backward, laughing as paws the size of oven mitts landed on her thighs, then shoulders.

“You big baby!” she gasped, half-laughing, half-straining to stay upright. “You’re just a puppy, aren’t you?”

He wriggled and licked Carys’s face like she was his long-lost soulmate.

His tail thumped wildly against the concrete, smacking a nearby trash can with hollow thuds.

The crowd, moments ago terrified, now stood stunned and silent.

Then someone let out a tentative chuckle.

The woman who’d lost her coffee shook her head. “I definitely need to switch to decaf.”

Still grinning, Carys rubbed behind the dog’s velvety ears. “Where’s your collar, honey?” she murmured, her fingers sliding along his thick neck. “Where’d you come from?” She found the collar, buried under thick, rough fur, and held on.

No tags. No leash. Just a big, gorgeous German Shepherd, panting happily against her chest.

“Where’s your momma?” Carys asked, shifting her weight but keeping her hands on the dog’s collar—not too firmly, but enough so that the dog knew not to run away. “Huh? Where is she? I bet she’s upset that you ran away. Why did you do that?”

The dog’s ears twitched and he nuzzled Carys’s hand again, gently asking for more rubs.

Carys obliged happily. Was there anything more wonderful than a dog?

She loved animals. If she had her way, she’d live on a farm out in the middle of nowhere, with dogs and cats, chickens, goats, and those adorable baby cows that she’d seen on the internet lately.

Yeah, she knew the baby cows grew into big cows—but that would be okay.

“Okay, boy,” she whispered, pressing her face against the dog’s fur. “Let’s go find your momma. What do you think?”

The dog whined slightly, twisting his head around to press his nose into Carys’s blond hair.

“Yeah, I know, sweetie,” Carys replied, responding to the tone, if not the words.

German Shepherds were incredibly intelligent dogs.

Briefly, she wistfully contemplated asking the owner of this beautiful boy to let her take him home.

But she lived in a tiny studio apartment.

This sweet boy needed a larger house with a huge backyard so he could stretch his legs properly.

Plus, her apartment building had a strict weight limit, and this handsome fellow was definitely over that limit.

“Besides,” Carys whispered conspiratorially to the dog, “you wouldn’t like the neighbors. The guy next door thinks playing the tuba at midnight is a perfectly acceptable hobby. And let’s not even start on the lady downstairs who conducts tap-dancing classes for her cats.”

The dog tilted his head, almost as if he understood and sympathized.

Carys laughed, rubbing him behind the ears.

“You’re good, honey. Everything is good.

But I doubt you’d like apartment living.

You need space. Maybe even a doggy mansion.

I can barely fit a houseplant in my place without it feeling crowded. ”

As the dog leaned into her caresses, Carys added, “And trust me, boy, you do not want to share space with Mr. Fluffy, my temperamental cactus. He’s prickly in more ways than one.

” She sighed, giving the dog one last affectionate pat.

“But if you ever want to visit and critique my tuba-playing neighbor, you’re more than welcome. ”

That’s when she saw another beast—this one taller and broader—running down the path.

This beast wasn’t a puppy. This beast was…

magnificent . Her breath caught in her throat as she watched the man jogging toward them, his dark hair glinting in the sunshine.

He was running in dress shoes and a suit, but there was no masking the incredible glory of his physique.

The flat stomach and broad shoulders were…

Carys's heart pounded, a different kind of tension gripping her now. The man’s powerful strides ate up the distance, his eyes locked on the dog.

She could see the intensity in his gaze—a mix of concern and determination that made her stomach flutter.

The way his suit clung to his muscular frame, hinting at the strength beneath, sent a thrill through her.

As he closed in, the sun highlighted the chiseled lines of his face, and Carys felt a wave of awareness wash over her. His presence was as commanding as the dog’s had been exuberant. The air seemed to thrum with energy, the sounds around her fading into the background as he approached.

The dog nuzzled Carys’s hand. For a brief moment, she looked down. Was the beast laughing at her?

Ridiculous.

Still, she looked back up, staring at the man who was slowing as he approached.

He really was stunningly handsome—in a completely-out-of-Carys’s-league kind of way.

She knew the type of men who were typically attracted to her.

They were the geeky, accounting types with glasses sliding down their noses.

The men with cheap suits and scuffed shoes.

Not the shockingly handsome, muscle-bound leaders of industry like this one.

He came to a stop in front of her, heaving a sigh of relief.

As he reached them, Carys noted with mild annoyance that he wasn’t even out of breath—despite sprinting like a scene out of an action movie.

“Sorry about that,” he said, flashing a smile that could probably launch a thousand ad campaigns. “He’s still learning to stay by my side.”

Carys blinked, trying not to be too dazzled by his perfect teeth and those maddeningly expressive eyes. “It’s okay,” she managed, her voice a little breathless—though not from running. “He’s a sweetheart.”

Dark eyes. Tanned skin. And citrus aftershave. Her gaze roamed over his face, unable to tear itself away. She liked the way his lips curled slightly when he spoke. Noticed the barely visible scar beneath his lower lip. She wanted to ask him how he’d gotten it. Something reckless, no doubt.

He was beautiful. Ruggedly, achingly beautiful.

Her heart thudded harder and she felt a bit unsteady—until the dog leaned against her leg, anchoring her with warm, living weight.

Carys wanted to say something witty. Tease him. Make him laugh.

But her mind blanked. She had nothing. Not a single clever word.

A wet nose nudged her hand.

She looked down, and the sweet boy stared up at her, head tilted in that charming, German Shepherd way.

“He got away from us,” the man said.

Carys blinked, still not processing his words. This man had short-circuited her brain. Handsome men didn’t normally affect her like this. But he was different. He made her skin tingle.

“What’s his name?” she asked.

The man’s mouth twisted slightly. “Aida, ironically.”

They both looked down at the fluffy boy. Aidan—no, Aida —shifted slightly on his haunches, and Carys could have sworn he was smiling .

When she looked up again, her stomach fluttered.

“But why is that ironic?” she asked, hoping for something intellectual to mask her attraction.

“Because in Arabic, the name means ‘one who returns,’” he said, his voice low and steady.

At the sound, Aida’s head dropped slightly, like he knew he was being gently scolded.

Carys bent down, scratching the dog’s head. “Aida,” she whispered, “I think you’re beautiful. And a very good boy.”