“Sold off!” Her eyes widen. “You make it sound like you’re a…an object.”
“We kind of are.” I shrug. “It’s a business.”
Her lips purse. “That sounds so cynical.”
“That’s me.” I lift my hands.
Yeah, I’m cynical. Life is hard and then you die. Unless you die before you’ve even had a life.
When I first got traded, I thought it was a good thing. A chance to start over, new teammates, new coach, a chance to rehab my somewhat tarnished reputation.
I should have known better than to let my guard down and be happy about something.
She nods slowly. For once, my determined cynicism feels…out of place. She has such a cheerful optimism about her. She just lost her job, but she’s going to try to make money dog walking. That’s really…messed up. And yet, it affects me in a weird way, giving me a soft feeling in my chest.
She’s too happy. Too enthusiastic. Too…likeable. Dammit.
“I have a day off today. I’m going to try to find Otis’s owner. If I can’t, I’ll maybe call a shelter.”
Lilly’s bottom lip pushes out a bit, giving her a sad look.
“I can’t keep him,” I remind her, reading her thoughts.
“I know. I just feel bad for him.”
Hell. I do too. But I need to be practical here.
“I’d take him,” she says. “But since I’m not sure I’ll have enough money to buy myself food, I probably shouldn’t take on another mouth to feed.”
Shit. She says it in a joking, lighthearted way. I’m sure she’s exaggerating her predicament. I hope she is.
“I volunteer at a shelter,” she says reluctantly. “Amsterdam Dog Rescue. You could call them. They could probably take him.”
I nod. “Thanks.”
“I’m going to spend the rest of my day setting up a website and putting some ads on Craigslist and Facebook.”
“You’re really into this.”
“Yep.” She flashes a high beam smile.
“I’ll write up something for you.”
We’ve finished our meals, and I slide off the stool and head to the bedroom that serves as an office. My laptop is still packed in my bag from our trip, so I get it out and boot it up.
My fingers hover over the keyboard. I have no idea what to say. Finally I make up some bullshit about how she was able to accommodate me at the last moment and saved my butt and how Otis loves her and what good care of him she took. I add in some stuff about how she understands Otis’s special needs, which is a euphemism for how he’s messed up, and that she genuinely cares about animals.
I think she does anyway.
I send it to my printer and then snatch it up, sign it, and carry it out to her.
I find her wiping off the counter, having loaded the dishes into the dishwasher and put away the food.
“Wow, you didn’t have to clean up,” I say. “But thank you.”
She shrugs. “I was just sitting here. Otis is sleeping.”
“That’s great. I wish he slept more.”
“I know.” She grins. “But at least he sleeps all night.”
“True.” I hand her the paper.
She doesn’t even read it, just folds it into thirds, then tucks it into her purse. “Thank you. I really appreciate that.”
“Not a problem.” I hesitate. I don’t want her to walk out that door and never see her again. The tug of attraction I feel toward her is puzzling. “Hey. Would you maybe like to have dinner later?”
She freezes. Blinks. “Dinner?”
“Yeah.” I flash what I hope is a persuasive smile.
“Oh. Um. No, thanks.”
My stomach dips.
“I’m not really dating right now,” she adds.
“Good. Me either. That means no reason we can’t date each other.”
The corners of her mouth twitch. For a few seconds, hope flickers inside me.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I don’t think we’re, uh, compatible.”
I can clearly hear “you’re an asshole” in her tone of voice. Great.
I nod. “I understand. Thanks again for looking after Otis. If I hear of anyone who needs a dog walker, I’ll give them your name.”
“Oh, thank you! That would be awesome. And I appreciate the reference.”
She walks over to Otis, crouches down, and kisses his head. “Bye, Otis. It was fun. Have a good life.”
Jesus.
Then she straightens. “Good luck finding his owner.”
She’s judging me for not keeping him. Or maybe that’s my guilty conscience making me mentally squirm.
“Thanks.” I walk her to the door, reluctant to see her leave. “Good luck to you too.”
She nods and lifts a hand in a wave as she walks down the hall toward the elevators. I watch her, then call, “I hope your day is as nice as your butt!”
She stops. Turns. Shakes her head. I’m pretty sure she’s smiling when she twirls back toward the elevator.
I slowly close the door.
Otis lifts his head and gives me a pathetic look.
“I know, I know,” I say. “I like her too. I should have warned you not to get attached. It’s never a good idea. It’s only a matter of time before things you love are taken away from you.”
* * *
—
My efforts to find Otis’s owner continue to be unsuccessful.
Midafternoon, Cookie comes down to my place to see how we’re doing. “Why don’t you just give him to a shelter? They’ll find a home for him.”
“How can I do that? What about his owner?”
“You can’t find him. And he doesn’t seem too upset, otherwise he’d be trying to find his dog.”
“True.” I tip my head back. “I guess I could do that. I’ve been so focused on finding where he came from.”
“You don’t want to give him up,” Cookie says with a smirk.
I scowl. “I can’t keep him.”
“Why not?” Cookie leans back on my couch and stretches his arms out. “You can afford it.”
“You know our schedule’s crazy.”
“Lots of guys have dogs.”
“They also have wives who look after them.”
“Not true. Brando’s single and he has a German Shepherd.”
I make a face and shrug.
“You can pay someone to look after him when you’re gone. You just did,” Cookie points out.
I could pay Lilly.
Wait! That’s a fantastic idea!
Or is it? She shot me down when I asked her out. Would it be weird? Stalkerish? I kind of thought she felt that attraction too. But we’re just talking about a business relationship here. “I like my freedom,” I say slowly.
“I get that. But a dog doesn’t tie you down as much as a kid.”
“Well, I’m sure as hell not having kids!”
Cookie laughs. “Yeah, yeah, we all know you’re happily single. But it might be good for you to have something you’re responsible for, besides yourself.”
I frown. “Are you saying I’m selfish?”
He shrugs, unoffended. “Naw, man. Just…closed off.”
I stare at Cookie. I haven’t known him that long, but we’ve gotten to be friends. “I’m not closed off.”
“Yeah, you are. You never care about any of the chicks you go out with. You bang women all the time and then dump them.”
“I don’t dump them! I’m clear about what we’re doing. No attachment.”
“Whatever. Also, you hang out with us, but you don’t share much.”
“There’s nothing to share,” I mutter. The guys all know my past but know better than to try to talk about it. “I hate dogs.”
Cookie laughs.
Asshole. “You don’t hate dogs. You fucking love that mutt.” He nods at Otis.
“I do not! Jesus.”
“Whatever.” Cookie’s a laid-back dude. “Maybe if you had a pet, you wouldn’t get so pissed off all the time.”
My jaw slackens. “What the fuck?”
“Don’t get mad at me. You know it’s true.”
After a tense beat, I blow out a breath and let my shoulders sag. Everyone knows it’s true. “I don’t think a pet is going to help with that.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.”
“I can’t just keep him, though. It’s like…stealing him.”
“You saved him. Someone abandoned him. You’ve tried to find where he belongs.” He shrugs. “Just keep him.”
Otis is asleep on the floor with the stuffed dog I bought him. He’s on his side, forehead furrowed, tongue hanging out of his mouth, a puddle of drool on the hardwood floor.
Charming.
Chapter 5
Lilly
I sit in my living room with my laptop on the table in front of me.
I got used to Otis’s presence over the last few days, and now this place feels empty. Quiet.
Normal.
This is how it should be.
Naw, dammit, I miss him. I miss his slobbery, sad face and his toenails clicking on the hardwood floor and his whines when he needs to go outside.
I focus on my computer.
I’ve set up a free website for my business. I paid a designer on Fiverr to come up with a logo for Walk ’n Wag. I’ve done research into scheduling and invoicing software. I’ve checked out other businesses in the area and what they charge. I may need insurance, especially if I go into people’s homes, and I’ll need a business license, but I don’t want to spend too much money up front until I know I’ll have some clients.
I tacked up a notice on the bulletin board in the lobby of Kent’s building, which is a big complex. I already walk Lola, but there are other dogs in the building, and I’ve put notices online as well. My phone’s not ringing off the hook. Wait, that’s a stupid expression. I don’t even know what a phone hook is. Anyway, no one’s calling me.
Yet. They will.
I keep thinking about Easton.
I shouldn’t have stayed for breakfast with him yesterday. He’s definitely hot. I can’t deny how attractive he is and the heated flutters I felt in my belly. But he’s also cocky and cynical. Not my type. I like guys who are…nice. Guys who won’t let me down. Easton is the epitome of the kind of guy I should stay away from.
My boyfriend, who I’d been with for two years, dumped me after I lost my job. For a long time after that, I wasn’t in any shape to date, and then when I tried, guys got scared away by my pathetic situation. Easton is clearly way out of my league.
When he asked me out, I damn near fell on the floor. He’s been flirty with me since we first met, but I figured that’s just who he is. That bad boy who loves women but doesn’t commit to one. I never expected him to actually ask me on a date.
So I turned him down and kept it professional, which is just as well. Men have been letting me down a lot lately, so I have no intention of getting involved with anyone. Especially a big, muscular, gorgeous man who probably makes millions of dollars. I’m definitely not interested in a relationship…although…some hot, athletic sex would be really nice.
And him calling after me to have a day “as nice as my butt” definitely isn’t cooling off the thoughts about a hot hookup.
* * *
—
A week has gone by and the only dog-walking jobs I’ve had are from Kent. I’m trying not to be discouraged by it. Another guy who lives in Kent’s building told me he’d use my services sometime, but that hasn’t turned into an actual job yet.
So when Easton’s number shows on the call display on my phone on Thursday afternoon, my head jerks back and my eyes widen. What?
I fumble my phone in my haste to answer the call. “Hello.”
“Lilly?”
“Yes.”
“Hi, it’s Easton. How are you?”
“I’m great, thanks. How about you?” I keep it cool. Chitchat. Gotta do it.
“I’m okay. How’s your new business coming along?”
“Good, good!” I say cheerfully, although…it’s not. Not good. Not coming along.
“That’s great to hear. I’m calling to see if you would be able to look after Otis again.”
“You still have him?”
“Yeah.” He sighs. “I’m stuck with him a while longer.”
I tilt my head. How hard is he trying to find somewhere else for him, really? He could easily have gotten a shelter to take him by now.
“If you can fit him in,” he adds politely.
I roll my eyes. Fit him in? Ha! “Hmm. When, exactly?”
“Saturday. We go to Nashville for a game, so it would be overnight again.”
I pretend to give this some thought, then say, “I think can do that.”
“Oh, thank God!” His voice is full of relief and that makes me feel like I’m doing something good. “Thank you.”
“No worries. But listen, I can’t in good conscience take the same pay. That’s nowhere near my going rate, even for overnight stays.”
Silence. “Okay. We can discuss that. Can I drop him off Saturday morning?”
“Yes, that would be fine.”
We finalize the arrangement and end the call.
I sink back into the couch cushions. Huh.
Well, it’s better than nothing. And truthfully I’m a little excited about it. Not just the money. I’m excited to see Otis again.
Not Easton, though. We had to end things with me turning him down. How awkward is that?
I shake my head. Never mind Easton. He’s a client. I need to be professional.
I bounce up off the couch and clap my hands. This is great!
* * *
—
I open the door on Saturday to see Easton and Otis. My heart gives a funny little bump in my chest and awareness sizzles over my skin as I lay eyes on Easton. Holeeeeey shit.
Oh my gawd, he’s so frickin’ attractive my bones are melting. For a moment I lose my words, taking in his big, lean body dressed in…a suit. A gorgeous, expensive-looking, navy blue suit with a blue-and-white-checked shirt beneath it and a patterned blue tie. I follow the line of the narrow pants down, over muscular thighs, then lower to polished brown shoes.
Seeing me taking in his attire, he says, “I’m headed straight to the airport from here.” He holds out his arms. “Game day.”
“Ah.” I clear my throat and drop my gaze to Otis. “Otis!”
Laughing, I sit on the floor, holding Otis back and trying to calm him as he wriggles and squirms.
Easton enters the apartment and sets down Otis’s belongings, then closes the door.
I look up at him. “He remembers me.”
“Of course he does.”
“He’s grown!” I run my hands over his fur.
“It’s only been a week,” Easton protests.
I shrug, rubbing Otis’s head. “I’m sure he’s grown a little.”
“I wonder how much bigger he’ll get.”
I lift my gaze from Otis to Easton again. “Why do you still have him?” I keep my hands on Otis, gently petting him. He’s calmer now.
Easton grimaces and rubs the back of his neck, looking away. “I’m not sure, actually.”
A slow smile tugs at my lips. “I think you want to keep him.”
Easton doesn’t reply right away. “I was going to talk to you about that.”
I tilt my head and regard him quizzically from where I sit on the floor. I decide “a talk” should be done at eye level, or as close to eye level as I can get with him without a stool,
given he’s about eight inches taller than me. I go to my knees, then push up to stand so I can face him. “About what?”
“If I keep him…would you look after him? It’s more than just dog walking, I know; I need someone to look after him overnights, and sometimes it would be for a few nights.”
My heart picks up speed and my mouth goes dry. “Really?”
He gives me a sheepish look. “I don’t really know what I’m doing with a dog, but…” He lifts one shoulder. “He’s kind of fun to have around.”
My heart turns to warm pudding. “Yeah, he is.”
Otis is padding around the apartment, and he jumps onto the couch and curls into the shape of a giant shrimp, quite at home.
“And I kind of feel I should keep him in case his owner comes looking for him. If I take him to a shelter, they’ll never see him again.”
“True.”
“We can talk more when I pick him up. Would you think about it?”
“Okay. I’ll think about it.”
I don’t tell him that I’m getting a little desperate. It’s only been a week, but I don’t have any other clients yet, so—oh my God!—a steady gig looking after Otis is a stroke of luck! But rather than jump up and down and squeal, which is what I want to do, I keep my cool. Because…Easton.
He asked me out. I turned him down. I don’t want to date him. But I really, really want to bone him.
“We need to talk about your fees,” he says.
I hand him the flyer I’ve printed out that has my rates for various services, which I’ve researched from similar businesses in the area. He peruses it and nods. “That’s fine.” He looks up. “We fly home right after the game. With the time change, we’ll be home around one in the morning. I can pick him up first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Whatever’s convenient for you,” I say in my best customer-service tone.
“How about nine? Or is that too early?’
“That’s fine.”
Easton walks over to Otis on the couch and rubs his head. “Bye, buddy. Be good for Lilly.”
Must Love Dogs...and Hockey Page 5
