Brandon announced apologetically as we stepped into his house. I shrugged. I didn’t care about a mess or a little dog fur. I was too busy worrying that little Jennifer’s daddy wanted my guy for more than his dog-walking services. The fact that Brandon didn’t acknowledged my growl of displeasure bugged me. But it was the part where he had responded, “Tell your dad I’ll give him a call,” that had me doubting myself. And why not? I’m the one who declared us boyfriends—to his mother, no less. Who the hell was I to make that sort of assumption? An idiot. That was who. Kicking off my shoes, I stared at the room without seeing anything beyond a seething cauldron of frustration. Most of which was directed at myself. “Adam.” “Yeah?” “C’mere, I want to show you something.” I glanced toward the door and briefly considered heading home, but then I looked to where he sat on the couch.
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