yeah?” I pull up my proverbial big-girl panties and try to look up at him playfully from behind my glasses. Much chicer glasses now. “He gets whatever he wants, huh? Did he learn that from his owner?” Huh . . . I’m kind of proud of myself. That might actually pass for flirting. Go me. A slow, sexy grin spreads over Nixon’s scruffy, handsome face before he bends down to clip a leash onto Gordie’s collar and runs his hand up and down the back of the adorable dog’s neck. The pup whines quietly when his owner stands back up, and I might actually be in agreement with the dog. I wouldn’t mind this
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