by Piper Rayne
Doggie Style
Piper Rayne
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
© 2017 by Piper Rayne
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
Cover design: RBA Designs
Line Editor: RJ Locksley
Proof Reader: Shawna Gavas, Behind The Writer
Created with Vellum
To all our four legged friends who love us no matter our faults.
Contents
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Epilogue
Excerpt from Hooked by the Boxer
Cockamamie Unicorn Ramblings
About the Author
Also by Piper Rayne
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1
Leo
I don’t have to look up from shampooing a Golden Retriever, Paisley, to know it’s Mrs. Winters who just breezed through the doors of my doggie spa. Her perfume announces her arrival more than her shaky voice. “Leo.”
“Mrs. Winters!” I wave, plastering a smile on my face. Her two toy Pomeranians sit in their shared stroller, dolled up in the latest Canine Couture raincoats I designed for them.
Yeah, that’s right—I own a dog spa and make clothes for canines. Have a good laugh over it now and make all the usual assumptions, but I can assure you they’re far from the truth.
I place Paisley in the blocked-off area with the fan blowing on her so I can properly greet my biggest client. Mrs. Winters’ hands are ready to accept mine before I break the half-wall barrier between us. I grip them loosely in mine and we kiss on each cheek.
“We need some swimsuits.” She smiles a pink lipstick-stained, toothy grin.
“Where are you headed?” I walk over and grab the look book for my swimsuit collection from last year.
“British Virgin Islands. Don is done with L.A. for awhile.” She flips the pages one after the other, and I already know where this conversation is going before she says anything. “I don’t see my Brie and Feta wearing last year’s designs.” Her hand grazes my forearm. “Any chance you have time—”
I cover her hand with mine. “For you, always.”
The light catches her enormous diamond ring when her free hand covers mine. “You’re so darling. Why hasn’t anyone snatched you up yet?”
I’m never sure what people expect you to say when they ask you this question. I’ve decided to mess around instead of marry? I’ve been screwed over enough by fake women, I’d rather enjoy the sun on the dock rather than accidentally hooking another crazy fish who refuses to be set free?
Chime.
Both of us look up to see a brunette pushing open the glass door with her phone glued to her ear. “You can send it in the mail.” Her voice is sharp and filled with frustration.
Mrs. Winters and I share an intrigued look.
“I will not be setting foot in that place again.” The woman’s voice rises and since she’s the only other person in the store, it’s impossible not to overhear, but I do my best to pretend she’s not there for the time being.
“What did you have in mind, Mrs. Winters?” I round the back of my counter, grabbing a sketchpad and some fabric samples. This isn’t the first time she’s asked for a custom piece.
“Then send it via courier!” The woman tucks a strand of her dark hair behind her ear and the abundance of lights I installed to showcase my shop bounces off her diamond earrings. I immediately focus on the curve of her neck.
“She’s an ornery one,” Mrs. Winters says under her breath and cringes before looking back at the paper. “I want ruffles. Something nineteen fifty-esque, but fun and flirty. Polka dots are a must.”
“Are they in their heat cycle?” I ask and laugh.
Mrs. Winters rolls her eyes and squeezes my arm. “You know no other dog is good enough to touch my girls.”
I smile.
“Unless you’d prefer me to call my lawyer.” The brunette’s tone is mounting in frustration and she sounds like she’s ready to climb through the phone and strangle her assistant.
“You know what, Leo, let me come back tomorrow,” Mrs. Winters says.
I can’t blame her. It’s hard to focus with this woman losing her shit less than twenty feet away from us. “No, that’s unnecessary. Give me one second.” I round the corner of the counter, walk by the racks of dog clothes and head over to the coat section where the woman now stands. I tap her on the shoulder and she whips her head around so fast, a rush of jasmine scent fills the air around me.
“Hold on, Ashley.” She places the phone at her side.
“Do you mind finishing your call outside? I’m trying to consult with a customer.”
She glances around the store like she just realized where she is. “Oh, sorry.” She places the phone on her ear. “I don’t care what you do, but figure out a way to get that check to me.” She hangs up on the person and stuffs her phone into the oversized purse hanging from her arm and extends her hand. “I’m Teegan Lowery.”
I shake her hand. “Hi, Teegan. I’m Leo. I’ll be with you right after I finish with my other client.”
Our hands part and her greedy gaze moves down my body. She’s not even shy about it. “I’m from Lowery Relations. We emailed one another about consulting on a PR basis.” Her smile couldn’t be more different than Mrs. Winters’. Her lightly lipsticked lips reveal straight white teeth that set off against the soft glow of her skin and her big, hazel eyes are hard to look away from. She’s gorgeous and based on what I’ve seen so far, I’m fairly sure she knows it.
“Oh. Yeah.” I glance back to an inquisitive-looking Mrs. Winters. “I’ll be right with you if you want to hang around for a few minutes.”
“I’ll wait.” Her demeanor is polar opposite from when she was on the phone.
I stop and turn back to her when I hit the middle of the designer leash section. “Can you stay off your phone?”
Her eyebrows scrunch, but a soft smile emerges. “No problem.”
I return to Mrs. Winters and we finalize her pooches’ swimsuit plans.
“Give me about a week?” I ask. “When are you leaving?”
Mrs. Winters places her silk scarf over her head. “Not until month end. You’ve got time, Leo.” She closes the top of the stroller where Brie and Feta are curled up in their blankets.
“Thanks again,” I say, appreciative that she’s been such a good customer.
“If you don’t start dating someone soon I’m going to have to see what I can do about it.” Her finger waves at me in a tsk.
“It’s hard to find the right person.”
The bell chimes as she opens the door. “Yo
u should go on Grindr. My nephew tells me that dating apps are where everyone should be.”
I nod. “Thanks, Mrs. Winters, I’ll think about it.”
The door shuts and I stare out after one of my most loyal and demanding customers.
“So.”
My head rears back because without warning Teegan pops up in front of me, her oversized purse now on the counter with a pad of paper and pen in her hand.
“Yeah, I’m not sure this is going to work out,” I say.
“What do you mean?” Her tone sounds similar to a woman who just received the ‘let’s be friends’ speech.
“Thank you for coming out, but I’m a low-key kinda guy and…” I stop myself to think of the right word. This woman seems like she’d be the kind to hit me in the eye with the pointy end of her designer shoe. “You seem high”—maintenance, I think—“energy.”
She huffs and squares her shoulders. “I’m high-energy?” She puts ‘high-energy’ in air quotes. “Believe me, Mr. Vaughn, that’s exactly what you want in a PR rep.”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry you came out here, but I just don’t see how we’d jibe together.” Paisley starts barking, so I head back to the salon area.
Where the hell is John? He’s late for his shift.
The sound of heels on my hardwood floors echo behind me. “Mr. Vaughn, I’m not sure what I did to offend you, but I guarantee you, I’m the best the city has to offer.”
“The best?” I question, turning off the blower. “Then how come Fink and Deed let you go two months ago?”
Her face reddens.
Shit. I’m an asshole.
“Because I have a vagina.” She crosses her arms and her hip juts out in dramatic fashion.
I stand there, staring at her and blinking, because I’m not sure what to say to that. Luckily, she fills in the blanks for me.
“My boss at Fink and Deed was really old-school. I kept getting passed over for promotions and the good accounts were all given to my co-worker because in short, my boss was a misogynist who didn’t think a woman could do the job as well as a man. That’s the honest truth. I’d had enough and decided to go it on my own. I may just have let them know what I thought of the entire organization before I did and so they fired me.”
It’s clear to me that she’s being sincere and I feel an ounce of pity for her. That had to be a frustrating situation to deal with day after day.
“Well, what can I say, some of us are dicks.” I lead Paisley out of her room to brush her and Teegan steps back, her bitchy stance faltering.
“Listen,” she says. “I know I’m a little high-strung, but that’s only because I think I can help you and I take my job seriously.”
Her confidence seems to be waning based on the timid smile on her face. For whatever reason her eyes are laser-focused in on Paisley, who is sitting calmly by my feet.
“How about a week trial?” I say.
“A week? I’m not sure that’s—”
“Enough time?” I finish her sentence.
She nods, but her face has lost all color, her eyes never wavering from Paisley. “I’d prefer a month. It takes time to implement ideas and see results.”
“I tell you what, you give me one thing I can’t get myself in the next week and the job is yours.”
For the first time in the last five minutes, her eyes move away from the dog and up to me. “Deal.”
She steps forward with her hand outstretched. Paisley perks up, ready for some petting time, and Teegan freezes. “Well, you seem to have your hands full, so we’ll save the handshake for when you officially hire me.”
She swivels on those high heels of hers and it’s impossible not to notice the way they make the muscles in her long, tanned legs look perfect for wrapping around my waist. I mean, a man’s waist. Any man but me.
“Miss Lowery,” I call out after her. She turns around, her hand on the handle of the half door that separates the back and the front of my store. “You might want to get used to dogs.”
She squares her shoulders like earlier. “I love dogs, Mr. Vaughn. No worries on that front.”
Then she’s gone and I hear the chime ring out from the main door.
I lean down and pet Paisley. “Teegan Lowery is a liar. She’s also gorgeous. Think she’s trouble?”
Paisley barks and then stares up at me, her tail swishing back and forth. It’s times like these that I wish I could actually talk to my furry friends. Surely her sixth sense would come in handy and tell me to run either to or away from our new friend.
Surfing Tacos is filled wall-to-wall with people. Jagger spots me from across the room and waves his hand. I slide by the after-work crowd to reach my two buddies when someone hops on my back and covers my eyes.
I’d know the small body anywhere. Using one hand, I slide his body to my front. “Payne,” I say. “What are you doing in a bar?”
“Vance says it’s a restaurant.”
I glance at all the patrons downing alcoholic beverages. “Your mom is not going to be happy.”
He doesn’t say anything and I carry him over to the table, depositing him on a chair next to my buddy Vance, who is essentially his stepdad these days.
“What took you so long?” Jagger asks, raising his hand for the waitress to come over.
“Does Layla know?” I eye Payne. My money is on the fact that Payne’s mom has no idea he’s here.
“She and Via are on a girls’ night out.” He fist-bumps Payne. “So it’s guy bonding time.”
Payne smiles wide at Vance.
“At Surfing Tacos,” I say and let it hang there.
“You’re never too young to be around beer and fish tacos,” Jagger comments, his gaze still searching for the nearest waitress to grab.
“Root beer and tacos, right?” Vance smiles down at Payne.
“Yep, and mum to Mom.” Payne presses his lips together and shakes his head.
Vance ruffles his hair. “You’re a genius.”
A waitress finally comes over, her hair falling out of her ponytail and her face red from running around.
“Hey, Cami.” Jagger flashes her his dimpled smile—the one that usually has the girls at his mercy.
“Hey, Jagger.” The strawberry blonde looks around the table. “Vance. Leo.” Then she concentrates on Payne. “And you are?”
“Payne.”
“This is my girlfriend’s son.” Vance stretches his arm out behind his chair.
Cami smiles over at him, takes our order and then turns so she’s talking just to Jagger. They talk quietly and even with me being directly next to Jagger, I can’t hear what she says over the noise in the room.
The three of us don’t try to hide the fact that we’re trying to hear what’s being said, but when Jagger runs his hand down her bare arm, I lose interest. Everyone is familiar with Cami and Jagger’s situation—minus Payne, of course. Jagger enjoys one night with her and Cami wants more. When will she ever learn?
Once they finish, Cami looks at all of us. “I’ll go get everything going,” she says before walking away.
“You do realize if you want to continue eating here, you better stop messing with her head.” Vance’s eyebrows shoot up.
“We’re having fun,” Jagger says with a ‘piss off’ expression sent Vance’s way.
“I like to have fun,” Payne says.
“I’m not talking about playing Ninja Turtles, buddy.” Jagger leans back in his barstool.
“What are you talking about?” Payne asks.
Jagger’s shoulders deflate and he stares at Vance with an annoyed expression. “You’ll find out when you’re older,” Jagger says and Payne turns to look at Vance.
“We’ll talk later.” Vance eyes Jagger, who seems clueless as to the situation he’s put Vance in.
“So what took you so long?” Jagger slaps me on my shoulder.
“I had a demanding customer and then this PR girl came in right as I was finishing up with my last grooming.”
>
“Yeah?” Vance sits up straighter, placing his elbows on the table.
“It’s for work,” I remind him. Ever since he’s found love he seems to be under some belief that we all should.
“So was Layla, but that didn’t turn out how I figured it would,” Vance says.
Jagger huffs. “Leo knows where to draw the line better than your dumb ass.”
Vance’s head tilts and he nods toward Payne.
“Sorry, buddy, but I’m sure you’ve heard worse words.” Jagger leans over the table and ruffles Payne’s hair.
“Let’s keep this convo PG, okay?” Vance eyes Jagger.
“What’s the fun in guy bonding time if we do that?” Jagger laughs, but no one answers him.
“So who’s the girl?” Vance asks.
“From the research I did after she contacted me, she just started her own firm.”
“Why are you getting a PR person anyway?” Jagger asks.
“I want to scale the business and get my stuff into a chain of pet stores. That’s the endgame and I don’t have the time or connections to get it done.”
“That website where everyone sells their crafty shit not cutting it?” Vance interjects.
“You said a bad word!” Payne pipes up.
Jagger smirks over at Vance and he rolls his eyes.
“Layla is always getting stuff delivered from that website,” Vance says.
“It’s still a huge money-maker for me, and the shop is fantastic, but I want to be out there in retail stores so that I can have some of the pieces made in a factory.”
