Nearlyweds by Beth Kendrick Read Free Book Online Page A

him?”
    “You’re serious. You actually adopted this filthy monstrosity of a dog?”
    I batted my eyelashes at him. “Don’t talk that way about our baby, sweetheart.”
    His lips crimped together. “Don’t start with that again.”
    “I’m not.” I nibbled a few more marshmallows as I sprinkled cocoa powder into the mug. “You wanted to get a dog, so we got a dog. I’m just trying to be agreeable.”
    “You’re not being agreeable; you’re being passive-aggressive. I already told you, we’re getting a maltipoo.”
    “From a breeder with a waiting list? Why should we spend a ton of money buying a designer dog when there are so many homeless animals dying in shelters every day?”
    “Oh God.” He shook his head. “The lunatic leaflet girl’s gotten her hooks into you.”
    I beamed. “I’m just trying to do the right thing.”
    “Give it up!” He jabbed his index finger toward me. “The only reason you got that dog is to make a stand against my vasectomy. You don’t want a mangy stray messing up this house any more than I do. What are you going to do when he starts peeing all over the rug? Chewing up the furniture?”
    As I surveyed the spotless travertine floors, white leather sofa, and pristine Berber carpet I’d so carefully picked out, I realized he had a point. I didn’t want to sacrifice my brand-new house to make a point about my biological clock. A five-minute argument was going to cost us eight to ten years ofmuddy pawprints and drooled-on Italian leather. Plus bloat, whatever the hell that was.
    My expression must have reflected my second thoughts, because he nodded and said, “See? You know I’m right.”
    “Well, I can’t just take him back to the shelter,” I said. “Casey said that big, black, male dogs almost never get adopted.”
    “I will not going to have some overgrown mutt marking his territory all over my house.”
    “He’s neutered,” I protested. “Besides, he seems pretty mellow.”
    We both took a moment to stare at the dog, who had reared up on his hind legs and was resting his head on the counter, his long pink tongue slurping toward the marshmallows.
    “You shouldn’t have gotten a pet without consulting me first,” Mark said.
    My jaw hit the floor. “Excuse me? You’re the one who put me on a waiting list for the maltipoo! I don’t remember being consulted about that.”
    “That’s different—I was trying to make you happy, not one-up you with some childish power play. Besides, maltipoos are a much more practical choice, given our family situation. Taylor hates big dogs. She says they can’t be trusted.”
    I slammed the cocoa tin down on the counter. “So what? Taylor doesn’t live here.”
    “Well…” He started choosing his words very carefully. “If we keep this dog, the girls won’t want to come over very often.”
    My smile was even tighter than his. “In case you haven’t noticed, the girls hate my guts. They’re not coming over anyway.”
    “They’re coming for Thanksgiving next week.” He stared up at the ceiling. “And they don’t hate you.”
    “What’s that?” I cupped a hand to my ear. “I can’t hear you.”
    “They don’t hate you,” he muttered.
    “Ha.”
    “Okay, it’s possible they resent you a little bit. But they’ll get over it, sweetheart. These things take time.”
    “Everyone told me not to marry a guy twice my age,” I said to the dog, who was trying to look innocent while mainlining marshmallows on the sly. “Everybody said the nanny shouldn’t marry her employer’s golf buddy. It would never work, they said. But would I listen? Nooo.”
    “What are you talking about?” The tension ebbed out of his shoulders as he uncrossed his arms and stepped forward to embrace me. “Nobody said that. And we are going to work. You and me—we’re a team.”
    I let him pull me up against his chest but didn’t say anything.
    “I love you, Stell. We’re going to have our share of fights—maybe more than