And so did he.
“That dog—” he began.
“Sweetie Pie,” Chloe corrected. “He has a name.”
Jake crossed his arms. “Either way, my place isn’t geared for pets.”
She leaned her hip against the car door and crossed her own arms. “Whatever.”
Damn that woman. She was going to be the death of him.
“Listen,” she said, softening again, it seemed. “A pet will be good for Brianna. Especially now.”
“She already has fish.”
“She can’t cuddle with them.”
“Yeah, well, she won’t get flea bites from them, either.”
Chloe stood there for a moment, eyes glaring and rigidity returning to her stance. Then she chuckled softly. “Six weeks won’t be long enough, will it?”
It seemed too long to him. But he wasn’t entirely sure what she meant. “What are you talking about?”
“You and I are going to have a heck of a time learning how to compromise and put Brianna’s best interests ahead of our own.” Then she tossed him another smile and climbed into the car.
Jake stood silently by, as he watched her drive away.
Something told him she was right.
Even so, he realized, in spite of his objections and reservations, Brianna was sitting in Chloe’s backseat. And that ugly dog was heading back to the ranch.
So how come it felt more like a loss than a compromise?
And what was he going to do about it?
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