“I enjoy your company.” “Gwen.” He sighs my name like I exhaust him, his palm scrubbing over his stubbled jaw. “Oh, quit constantly flattering yourself. That statement doesn’t need to mean more than it does.” I swear I see a dimple flash in his cheek, so I forge ahead. “I just meant that I’m not put off by all your snarling.” He finally looks my way. “Snarling?” “Yes. Barking and growling too.” “Am I a dog now?” “A big, dumb one who’s been living tied to a post for too long and doesn’t know how to interact anymore? Yes. You are.”
