They reached the lot where Norah and her volunteers had the puppies who were available for adoption. Nobody could just take a dog home today, but they could meet the dogs, fill out an application, and be vetted afterwards. Then someone would call them if they were approved as a pet owner.
“Stability factor?” He came to a halt. “I thought we were past those issues.” Panic seemed to invade his expression.
“We are. Relax.” She put a hand on his chest to reassure him. “This is a good surprise. I just meant that we’re living together, and I’m around to take care of a pet when you’re on tour. No upheaval involved.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You will.” She led him around the booth and paused where a large crate sat alone with a black and white dog inside who appeared disinterested in everything going on around him.
“Walter?” Axel asked, excitement in his tone.
The dog’s ears perked up at the sound of his name.
Smiling, she watched as Axel walked over and the dog’s long tail began to wag as he pawed at the kennel gate to get to Axel.
“Is he up for adoption here?” Axel asked.
“He’s taken,” she said, carefully watching Axel’s face. He didn’t seem to understand yet, and she couldn’t torture him another second. “Baby, open the crate and take out your dog.”
His gaze swung to hers. “You…?”
She nodded.
“What about Dakota? Will they get along?” he asked, his body vibrating with contained happiness.
“Well, I’ve had them play together a couple of times this week, and I even brought Walter home to make sure there were no immediate territorial issues.” When Axel had been in the studio with the band, rehearsing. “They got along great. So go get your dog!”
Axel’s gaze swung from Walter, who was still pawing at the crate, to her, as if unsure of who he should hug first.
“Go!” She waved a hand toward Walter.
Axel let his new dog out of the crate and dropped to his knees, Walter immediately nuzzling his head into Axel’s stomach.
Tara stepped behind the makeshift tables and booth and pulled out a leash from a box. Walking over to her man and their dog, she clipped the leash onto Walter’s collar, one she’d already gotten for him.
“My mission here is complete,” she said, handing him the leash.
Axel rose to his feet. “But mine isn’t. I told you I have a surprise, too, remember?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a key.
She wrinkled her nose in confusion.
“In case you think I don’t listen, you need to know that I do. You wanted stability. A house. Kids. A future. I don’t know about you, but I want to have you to myself for a bit before we have kids. I plan to marry you, so don’t worry about that. But I refuse to live in your mother and stepdad’s gatehouse, and my rental isn’t right for us. So I took it upon myself to change our living situation.”
She narrowed her gaze. “You did … what?”
“I bought a house that you’re going to decorate. Or get help decorating. Whatever. In other words, I also took care of our stability situation.” He grinned, obviously pleased with himself.
She flung her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek over and over.
“You don’t care that you didn’t see it first?” he asked warily.
“I trust you, remember? It’s not my parents’ house, it’s not your empty house…”
“It’s on the beach on the other side of Xander’s.” His grin widened, and she couldn’t help but chuckle.
Xander’s reaction would be something different, she was sure. “How did you manage this in under a week?” she asked.
Laughing, he said, “Let’s just say I made the owner an offer he couldn’t refuse. And they were so happy, they agreed to move out by this weekend.”
Her eyes opened wide. “That must have been some offer.”
He waved a hand through the air. “It’s just money. I have it, and I can spend it. And now we have everything we ever wanted,” he said, pulling her close.
“All I ever wanted was you.” She was just glad she’d realized it in time.
“Back at you, baby.”
Walter nosed his way between them, seeking attention, and they both leaned down to give it to him. Tara had a feeling this would be a permanent way of life from now on. And she couldn’t ask for anything more.
* * * *