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Saturday didn’t work out with Luke because he had Isla.

I love Isla, but kids have zero discretion. Jacqueline already knows they saw me at the pet shelter and I helped them find Mister Bubbles. I’m sure she was able to write that off as a coincidence, but I doubt she’d feel the same if it happened a second time.

Since I’m basically an FBI informant now, I have to be more discreet.

“Isla’s much better at this than you,” Tom complains from his chair in the corner of the room. “I don’t even think you’re trying.”

“I’m sorry.” Luke sounds flustered as he hands me the pearl and rhinestone collar to put on Sophie the corgi. “I’ve never had to pick out this many pet accessories before.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake!” Tom’s bark is louder than any of the dogs we’ve met today. “Corgis aren’t pearl dogs. This is ridiculous.”

“Look at that face, she loves feeling fancy.” I fasten the collar around her neck and give her some belly scratches. “I, for one, think she looks adorable.”

“Of course she looks adorable. She’s a goddamn corgi.” Tom throws his hands in the air like he can’t deal with us . “You think the Queen of England would pick a dog that’s not adorable?”

“Well, I—”

“Oh no you don’t.” Tom cuts me off. “Don’t you even get started with that Queen Meghan and Queen Beyoncé stuff again.”

“Again?” Luke asks.

“Yes, again,” I defend myself. “If we are going to post these pictures on Beyoncé’s internet, it’s only fair that we address her correctly. And Meghan—”

“Didn’t I say not to get started?” Tom cuts me off—again—and pushes out of his chair to go to the accessory wall himself. “This sounds like you’re getting started.”

Luke’s body shakes with laughter and mischief dances in his eyes. “It does sound like you’re getting started.”

“You haven’t even seen me get started.” I get Sophie to sit in front of the white backdrop and grab my camera off of my stool. “But you will.”

His eyes drop down the V of my sweater. “Promise?”

“Dammit, Luke.” My cheeks feel like they’re on fire, but thankfully when I glance over at Tom, he’s not paying attention at all. “Why are you even here? You’re not an official volunteer.”

We had plans to meet up later today to exchange information and go over our next steps, but he showed up at The Barkery not long after I started taking pictures of this week’s animals.

“Joke’s on you because Isla and I came back last week. We filled out a lot of paperwork and guess what?” He holds out his arm in front of him and opens his fist. “You’re looking at the newest Barkery volunteer.”

“Did you…” I want to focus on that last part, but my brain is hyper-fixated on one small detail and I know I won’t be able to move on until we address it. “Did you just drop the proverbial mic?”

“Mic.” He holds out his arm in front of him again and repeats the motion. “Drop.”

“Oh wow! Doubling down, I see.” I don’t want to laugh, but I can’t help it. “That was very millennial dad of you.”

“Tsk tsk,” he clicks his tongue. “What’s that saying? Oh, that’s right. Haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate.”

Everything in the room, even sweet Sophie and grumpy Tom, fades away as I place Luke’s words in my head.

“Did you just quote Taylor Swift?” I have to be wrong. There’s no way I heard him right.

“Damn straight,” he says proudly. “I have a six-year-old little girl. If you don’t think we have frequent dance parties to Taylor, you’re very mistaken.”

He’s a Swiftie?

I did not need to know this.

“She’s another one of my queens,” I whisper, and the urge to fall in love with him right here and right now is almost too strong to overcome. “It’s a long list.”

“No more queens!” Tom throws a plain bow tie at my head, and it’s a very effective way of snapping me back into the present moment. “Now get on with it, me and Sophie don’t have all day to sit here and listen to you two flirt. Take the damn pictures so he can take you out.”

I feel my eyes bulge out of my head, and the blush that just began to fade makes a reappearance so fast and furious even Vin Diesel would be impressed.

“Yeah, Emerson. Listen to Tom and hurry up,” he says. “I’d really like to take you out.”

I’m usually very firm in my decision to ignore all men and their requests, but I guess I’ll go along with this one.

But just this once…

And any other time he asks me out.

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In a world filled with fashion influencers, I’d call myself stylish adjacent.

I know what I like and I buy it whether it’s in style or not.

I’m a kindergarten teacher and my wardrobe shows it.

I tend to gravitate toward the more whimsical side of life and because of that, most of my clothes are items that will impress kindergartners, not adult men who might want to take me out on a date… if this even is a date.

After we finish up with pictures and take a couple of high-energy huskies on a walk, Luke follows me back to my apartment so I can change out of my fur-covered sweater into something a little nicer.

The last time my mom was in town, she made me buy a simple black dress, and I toy with the idea of pulling it out tonight.

Luke didn’t tell me where we’re going, and it’d be the safe choice.

But then I see my favorite fall sweater and grab it instead.

Nothing about my time with Luke has been safe, and I don’t know why I’d start now.

The sweater’s green like Luke’s eyes, with mushrooms and flowers embroidered along the hem and up the sleeves.

The V-neck cuts so low that I always wear a camisole beneath it, but tonight I opt for my ivory lace bra—and the matching, extra lacy panties—instead.

I’m sure it’s not everyone’s brand of sexy, but it works for me.

I pair it with my wide-leg jeans and the green Nike dunks I found for a steal on eBay.

My curls got a little frizzy working with the pups, so I run to the bathroom to refresh them and swipe on some mascara, Fenty blush, and lipstick when I finish.

It’s not much, but I think I look great.

And judging by the way Luke looks at me when I walk into my living room, he agrees.

“Ready to go?” I drape my crossbody bag over my shoulder and adjust my sweater. “Are you finally going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Maybe,” he says. “But before we go, do you mind if we talk?”

Dread clogs my throat and my stomach crashes through the floor. Do I mind if we talk? I mean really, could there be a more ominous question?

“Um, yeah. Sure.” I smile through clenched teeth. “About what?”

He scoots over and I accept the unspoken invitation to join him on the couch. He turns to face me, and even though he’s the person who initiated this conversation, he seems just as nervous as I am. It does not bode well for my confidence.

“I feel like so much has happened between us. You’re Isla’s teacher and now you’re helping me with my article. I just really wanted to sit down and make sure we’re on the same page about everything.”

“Of course, good idea.”

I knew it. I knew it was too good to be true. I let myself drift into the fantasy of Luke when I needed to stay in reality. Everything is so complicated with us, I should’ve known he wouldn’t want to cross boundaries.

“I know the smart thing to do would be to keep things between us professional, and Lord knows I’ve been trying, but,”—he takes a deep breath and my heart stops beating—“I don’t want that. It might not be the best idea, but I want to see where things go between us.”

I don’t know what comes over me more, relief or excitement.

All at once, I somehow feel like I could explode and am the most settled I’ve ever been.

It’s like my body is finally catching up to what it has been trying to tell me all along: this thing between Luke and I can’t be denied…

no matter how hard we tried to fight it.

“I want that too.” The smile I’ve been biting back takes over, and my face feels like it might break in two. “A lot.”

Just thinking about being able to kiss him whenever I want is enough to make me kick off my shoes and pull him back into my room for the rest of the night. Why would I need food when Luke is an entire snack?

“Good,” he says. “Now that we’ve gotten that cleared up, I’m just going to do one more thing before we leave.”

“What—” I begin to ask, but his mouth is on mine before I can finish.

I’ve spent the last few months since we kissed trying to remember the way his mouth felt on mine.

The sparks that shot off like fireworks when our mouths touched.

It was always somewhere in my mind, even when I didn’t want it to be.

I convinced myself I was building it up in my imagination.

That there was no way it was as good as I remembered.

But now, sitting on my couch with his lips on mine, I know I was wrong.

Because somehow, this kiss is even better.

It’s different than what we shared over the summer—less frantic, more gentle.

His hand glides across my back, pulling me closer to him, as his tongue twists with mine.

His touch is familiar now, yet no less exciting.

Just like the first night we met, my body turns liquid beneath him and my mind goes blank.

Nothing else in the entire world matters more than figuring out how to do this for the rest of forever… or at least tonight.

“Are you sure you want dinner?” I ask when we pull apart. “I think I have a frozen something in my freezer.”

His quiet laughter is just like a glass of whiskey: smooth, rich, and a balm to my nerves. One taste and I could never be sober.

“As delicious as something frozen sounds and as much as I love your apartment,” he says, leaning forward and touching his lips to mine once more, “I’d really like to take you out on a proper date for once.”

That’s sweet.

Really sweet.

“Okay,” I give in. “If you insist. But first we should go to the bathroom. I need more lipstick, because I left most of what I just applied on your face.”

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