Taylor gave him a look. “I know you never met Karen, but based on everything I’ve told you about her, what do you think?”
She felt a little guilty criticizing Karen, but lately she’d been wishing that things had been, well…different. That Karen had told her it was okay to cry, and that it wouldn’t be the end of the world if a dog peed on white carpet.
Maybe then she’d know how to be enough for a guy like Nick, and she wouldn’t be terrified that the dog wouldn’t love her back, and…
“I think,” he said softly, “that Twinkie is very lucky to have you.”
Twinkie apparently agreed, somehow managing to wedge her body between their shins, panting happily at being the middle of the sandwich.
“You’re not mad?” she asked.
“Nah.” He gave her a quick kiss and stepped back. “I like dogs.”
She watched as he got himself a wineglass and helped himself to the bottle she’d opened.
“Just like that?” she said. “You’re not going to give me crap for how I should have checked with you first?”
He studied her over the wineglass. “It’s your apartment, Taylor. I just pay you rent.”
He didn’t say it cruelly—it was merely a quiet observation, and perfectly true. And yet she felt his words like a blow across the face.
“Right,” she said quickly, trying to recover. “Of course, we’re just…”
He lifted his eyebrows. “Yes?”
Roommates? Sleeping together? Having fun? Frenemies with benefits?
“Are you sleeping with other people?” she asked.
He lowered his wine. “What? Did you seriously just ask me that?”
Twinkie sensed trouble and wisely retreated to the bedroom to resume chewing her squeaky toy.
“I don’t know!” Taylor waved her glass around wildly. “We’ve never talked about being exclusive, and you just told me that you basically just happen to live here, and you’ve never said you want me to be your girlfriend, and now I’m starting to realize that there’s a very real chance that the dog’s going to like you better than she likes me, and—”
Nick set his glass down, walked to her, and took hers out of her hand before she sloshed its contents all over the floor.
“You should come with a warning label,” he murmured, pulling her to him. “Or at least an instruction manual.” She started to step back, but he didn’t let her. “I’m not seeing anyone else, Taylor. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. You consume me.”
“Yeah?” She stepped closer, ran a hand over his shirt.
“Yeah.” His mouth dropped to hers for a kiss. He tasted like coffee and promise.
“Taylor,” he said at last, his mouth drifting back and forth over hers softly.
“Mm?” She tried to deepen the kiss, but he pulled back slightly and waited for her to open her eyes.
“Let’s do this for real,” he said. “Girlfriend, boyfriend, whatever.”
Taylor’s heart leapt. “More than roommates who sleep together?”
He touched a finger to her lip. “Yes. More than that.”
For how long?
She didn’t ask it, though. For now she let it be enough, and threw her arms around his neck.
“Never thought I’d be going steady with Nick Ballantine. Or that we’d have a dog together.”
He snorted. “You managed to twist that fast.”
“Oh, come on,” she said, pulling back and turning to gesture at the living room. “How can you not love Twinkie alrea…” And then her mouth fell open because the living room was covered in tufts of white fluff. “What the heck just happened?”
“Your dog just gutted her stuffed animal,” he said, retrieving their wineglasses and handing her one.
“Our dog,” she persisted stubbornly.
He glanced skeptically at the living room, but his eyes were warm, and there was a smile lurking on his lips. “Yeah. Okay, Carr. Our dog.”
Chapter 25
Twinkie lobbied hard for a spot on the bed, but in the end, Nick’s stubbornness won out. After all three of them had taken a quick trip to the corner pet store to get a dog bed, Twinkie lay curled in the corner of Taylor’s room, muzzle resting on the carcass of her gutted cow toy, eyes closed.
“Wish I could fall asleep that early,” Taylor said, finishing her nightly routine of putting lotion on her hands and climbing into bed.
Nick glanced up from the book he was reading. “If you need help getting to sleep, I know some things.”
“I’m well aware,” she said, leaning over him for a kiss.
His hand lifted to her hair, and she heard the book tossed aside as he deepened the kiss. His tongue pressed deep, exploring every corner of her mouth as his other hand played with the skinny strap of her nightgown.
Taylor lifted a leg to straddle him, and though he let her, instead of tugging the nightgown down, like she expected, he instead reached for her hands, clasping them between his own, brushing a quick kiss to her fingertips.
“Hold up a sec. I want to talk to you about something.”
“Tired of me already?” she teased.
His eyes drifted down to the lace of her nightgown. “Not even a little bit.”
Still, his expression was semi-serious, and she sighed, sitting back. “Lay it on me.”
“There’s a writers’ conference next week. Portland.”
“Oregon or Maine?” she asked.
“Oregon.”
“Yay!” She punched his shoulder gently. “Your home turf.”
“Exactly. I’d been contemplating going for a while, was on the fence. But I just found out my mom’s getting hip replacement surgery around the same time. Timing works out well for me to see the family while I’m out that way.”
“You should,” she said emphatically.
His smile was fleeting. “Between the conference and helping my folks out, I’ll be gone for two weeks or so.”
Her stomach plunged uncomfortably at the realization of how much she’d miss him.
He smirked, reading her mind in that annoying way he had. “You’ll miss me.”
“Nonsense. I have Twinkie now. Girl power. You, on the other hand…” She traced a nail down the center of his chest. “Will miss me.”
He held her gaze. “You could come with.”
She went still. “Go with you? To Oregon?”
To meet your parents?
Nick shrugged, looking a little embarrassed beneath the scowl.
She was tempted and terrified. Or maybe terrified because she was tempted?
She’d never met a guy’s parents, and maybe that was a little sad, but it was also just smart.
Tangling up with someone’s family meant that when things inevitably went south, you weren’t just saying goodbye to one person, you were saying goodbye to several.
Plus, with her atypical upbringing, Taylor wasn’t at all sure she even knew how to do the family thing. She’d never be the one to make casseroles with his mother, or the one his nieces and nephews begged to have babysit.
“The timing’s probably not right,” he said, giving her an out. “With the new job. The dog.”
“Right, yeah, it’d be tricky.” She bit her lip, but he reached out a finger to soothe the spot.
“Taylor. Don’t worry about it, really. It was just an idea. I realize my atypical career path makes my schedule more flexible than most.”
“Maybe next time?” she asked.
He smiled. Again, it was fleeting, as though sensing her hesitancy. “Yeah. Next time.”