by Misti Murphy
The door opens and Caroline struts into my office. “I thought we might do lunch.”
“No time,” I say, my attention still on Evie’s application. “Perhaps we could wait until Deanna is home?”
“Are you avoiding me?” She takes a seat opposite my desk and crosses her legs slow enough for me to realize she’s prepared for anything. “Because I thought we had a good time the other night.”
“We did.” I lay Evie’s application on the desk in front of me. One thing’s for sure, the girl must come in for a screen test. “But it was just one time. It’s sort of my thing.”
“Oh, I know.” She smiles slyly as she adjusts the hem of her white knee length skirt. “Eternal bachelor. Never goes out with the same girl more than once. But I don’t want to go out.”
I climb to my feet, scoop my cell and keys from the bowl on my desk and pocket them. The production team is starting a meeting that I’m supposed to be at. “Caroline, you’re a great girl. Don’t get me wrong. It’s just I’m not looking for anything. Not a regular date, or a regular screw. I’m sure Deanna would have told you that.”
“She did.” She exhales and drops the seduction act. “But I thought...”
“Sorry,” I say. “I’m just not that guy.”
***
“What you’re telling me is that if this show idea doesn’t get off the ground then our biggest investors are going to jump ship?” I grumble into the phone while I step out of the elevator and march down the hallway toward my apartment. “We’re a pet supply company, for goodness sake, not matchinthecity.com.”
“It’s an advertisement,” Deanna says coolly. “Marketing. And reality shows being so big these days it’s a great way to get our products in front of our audience. Surely you understand the gist of appealing to a human’s basest nature.”
“That’s a low blow.” The minute I walk into my high-rise home, I grip the knot of my tie and tug at it until it comes loose. “Fuck. I’ve been robbed.”
“Robbed?” Deanna asks.
“My apartment...” I step down into the sunken living room where cushions and stuffing from my sectional lie strewn across the rug. My one of a kind glass table is broken in half, and my bookshelves looks like they’ve been rattled by an earthquake until the contents jumped out. I turn slowly in a circle, assessing the damage and trying to pay attention to anything they might have taken. “I’ve been ransacked.”
“Your building has security,” she says. “That shouldn’t be possible.”
The cushions explode, a giant, furry head popping out between the remnants of tan leather and white cotton. “Woof.”
“Fuck, Dee,” I expel the words on a breath. Not quite as relieved by the absence of any actual thief as I would expect to be. “Your damn dog destroyed my house.”
“Oh, Barclay.” She practically swoons over the villain.
His ears prick and swivel and that lollypop pink tongue rolls out of his mouth. His whole body starts to shake. Any moment he will erupt like a volcano of excitement from the nest he’s made. “Oh Barclay my ass. This dog is a nuisance.”
“He’s just a baby,” she coos. “He just needs some time and training.”
“Things you should be taking care of,” I remind her as the furry Hound of Hell gallops full tilt toward me. “Like this dating gimmick. What do I know about dogs? Or dating for that matter? You know I’m not interested in either.”
“So I’ve heard.” I can practically hear her rolling her eyes behind those vintage Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses she prefers. “Caroline told me all about your little date and subsequent office meeting. I’ll thank you very much to keep your sights off my friends.”
“Won’t happen again,” I promise, and I mean every word.
“See that it doesn’t,” she orders me. “Now why don’t you tell me why it takes you five minutes to zero in on a floosy when you’re in need of companionship, but it’s taking you weeks to decide on one loveless and dateless woman for our ad series?”
“It’s been a week since we shut down applications,” I retort. “Just one. And in that time, I’ve had to go through thousands of applications. I’ve already started interviews.”
“Thousands?”
“At least you know your marketing’s working.” I ignore the dog and walk into the kitchen, going straight to the fridge for a beer.
“Yes, but it would be working much better if you could just pick us a woman.”
Head in the fridge, the little light shines in my eyes like the dim illumination of a half-baked idea. I still need to organize another interview with Evie. Perhaps over dinner. We could come back to my place for a trial run. “Did you just tell me to pick up a woman?”
“Us. I said us, Max,” Deanna snaps. “And you better not sleep with any of the applicants, especially the one you pick to be in the show. I won’t have you ruining this for us.”
“Chill, Dee.” I crack the lid from my beer and go to check on the dog. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Barclay is crowding my potted palm, his leg cocked. A thin stream of piss splashes against the ornate hammered copper pot and pools in a bright yellow stain on my white carpet. He swivels his head to the sound of my voice. I swear he wears the biggest, stupidest grin.
“When do you get back?”
“In a couple weeks,” she says. “Why?”
“Because your dog is pissing on my potted plant. He might not have weeks left in him.”
***
“Your potted plant is dead,” I tell Deanna. Rubbing my fingers over the brittle leaves of her favorite fern, I channel all the enjoyment out of it I can. “Karma’s a whore in pink spandex leggings, Dee. This is payback for your dog destroying my apartment.”
“You were supposed to check in and make sure it was watered,” she moans. “I knew I couldn’t trust that new gardener.”
“Your yard looks fine though. The three inches of snow on it really helps.” I stick my fingers between the curtains and pull the heavy drape back so that I can peer into the front yard. “There’s a duck.”
“A duck? Why does that not surprise me?”
“Really? Does nothing surprise you?” An eyebrow flies up in wonder as a young girl in a purple snowsuit tramples through the snow, chasing after the white duck. She has pin straight dark hair sticking out from the edges of her woollen hat. A Siamese cat slinks behind them with its tail in the air.
“You don’t understand. That’s not the oddest pet on that street. There’s also a—”
“Goat.” I watch the four legged animal skip and slide on a patch of ice.
“How did you know?” Deanna asks.
“I have to go.” The girl is the same child from the park. The woman bringing up the rear in this parade is a stunning blonde in a gray beanie.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I tell her as I march through the house and pick up Barclay’s leash. “I’m heading out the door. That’s all. Is it okay if I stay at your house until you get home?”
“No. Knowing you, you’ll sleep with one of my neighbors, and I’ll be forced to move.”
“It’s for Barclay’s sake. He hates being cooped up in my apartment. Come on, be a responsible pet owner.”
“Fine,” she gives in huffily. “Just try not to seduce my neighbors. They’re all practically married.”
“You have nothing to worry about, Dee. Seriously. I’ll be too busy with Puppy Love.” I whistle for Barclay, clapping a fist around his collar the moment he bangs into my legs so that I can attach his leash. “But right now, I’m late for an interview.”
I hang up on her before she can say anything else and grab my coat and hat and gloves before racing after a duck, a kid with a cat, a goat, and the hottest woman I’ve ever had to chase.
I don’t catch up to them straight away. The sidewalk is slippery and Barclay pulls and strains against his leash, the duck in his sights. Keeping my balance while I study the back of the woman in front of me is surprisin
gly difficult. Evie. Dateless and desperate and in need of a good dick. She’s practically perfect for the show.
Barclay yips and whines loudly at not being allowed to sniff the cat, which makes Evie stop and turn around. She takes in the sheepdog pup, all eighty pounds of him, before her gaze lands on me. “Oh. It’s you.”
“Max. And you’re Evie?” I hurry to catch up to them now that we’ve been spotted. The cat gingerly licks its paws while it watches the goat buck in the snow, and the little girl starts scraping the white stuff into a pile while the duck supervises. Oddest grouping ever.
“Right,” Evie agrees, frowning.
“Abby called you that.” Thrusting my arm out, I engulf her hand with both of mine up to the wrist though I can barely keep my footing with Barclay tugging on his leash, desperate to play. Our breaths come out in big puffs of white air. “Do you live in the neighborhood?”
“You could say that.” She glances at our hands and then back to me.
“Could?” I ask, in no hurry to let her go just yet.
“Well, my employers live here. I’m just the live in nanny.” I release her hand when she slowly pulls away to continue after her charge. “So I suppose for all intents and purposes I do live here.”
“Nice to know.”
“Is it?” She gently tugs at the bottom corner of her mouth with her teeth.
My sister would kill me if she knew my sudden decision to stay at her house was due to one of her neighbors, but the girl did clarify that she only lives here because of her job, and Deanna didn’t say anything about not flirting with her neighbor’s help.
“Do you live close by?” Evie asks as I fall into step beside her.
“No. I’m house sitting for my sister. This monster is hers.” I jerk my chin in the direction of the massive fur ball still hauling on the end of the leash.
“Monster?” Her pale brows pull together into a low line above her eyes. “Should I take it you don’t like dogs?”
Is she disappointed that I’m not a dog lover? Ahead of us the duck begins a quacking frenzy as it speed waddles toward a yard. Perhaps the one where their walk originated? The cat scampers off and disappears behind some bushes on the other side of the road. “Don’t like? That’s a strong statement. But this guy’s an evil destroyer. You should see what he did to my apartment.”
Evie stops in front of the house into which the rest of her companions, except the cat, have disappeared. She drops to one knee in the snow and scratches Barclay behind the ears until he gives her his big goofball grin and starts wiggling to get her to pay attention to the spots he wants her to. “He’s just a boisterous puppy.”
“Boisterous. Evil. You say potato.”
Barclay moves in for the kill, proving my point as he draws that wet pink tongue up the side of her face. Evie squeals, but hugs him anyway. Is it wrong that for a second I’m jealous? That is until he rolls onto his back, exposing himself like an overwound tube of pink lipstick.
“You’re a little bit excited, aren’t you?” she coos at him, standing up. “You big baby. Is your sitter not paying you enough attention?”
“Woof,” he agrees.
Great, the two of them are in cahoots. Lucky dog. I doubt rolling onto my back and unzipping my pants would have the same effect. At least not on Evie. There’s something sweeter about her than I’m used to. More down to earth. Our target audience would eat her up with a spoon. “I’m feeding him and walking him, but I do have a life. A job, which actually I need to get back to.”
“Me too.” She glances at the house.
“Would you...Do you think you...” Usually asking a woman to spend an evening with me is easy, but my tongue feels swollen and clumsy around Evie.
“What?” She tilts her head to the side, waiting.
Barclay whines at her feet.
I thrust the leash at her. “Could you watch him until I get back from work so he doesn’t have to be alone?”
A slow smile breaks across her face that is so warm I could bask in the glow. She takes the lead from my hand. “What time do you finish?”
“I’m not sure.” I scratch the back of my neck, until it hits me that I couldn’t have planned this more perfectly. “But you could give me your number.”
“Okay,” she says as I hand her my phone. “Call me when you’re ready to collect him. Abby is going to be so excited to play with him.”
CHAPTER THREE
Evie
Abby squeals and claps her hands as she chases after Spot, who is chasing after Ducky, who is quacking and flapping after Barclay through the snow. He’s such a sweetheart of a pup, and a complete sook when it comes to the duck. He skids to a stop, spraying snow every which way before flopping onto his back in submission while Ducky climbs onto his belly, victorious.
I sweep the last bit of snow from the deck. How can Max not like dogs? They’re supposed to be man’s best friend, but it’s almost like Max believes the pup is out to get him.
My phone beeps and I drag off a glove to pick it up. I can feel the beginnings of a smile that it might be him texting me. Despite his obvious failings, he’s not a bad guy. And he is cute. Okay, a little more than cute. But he’s also probably the sort of man who flirts with all the girls, though for a split second there that didn’t stop me from hoping he would ask me out, not ask me to watch his sister’s dog. Can’t believe I forgot the girl he was with at the park. Burberry chick. Clearly he runs in higher social circles than I do.
Congratulations. Puppy Love wants you. A contract will be emailed to you directly.
Not Max then. I guess I should be stoked that I was picked for the show, despite the fact that the person who was supposed to interview me didn’t bother to show up.
“How’s my girl?” Garrett asks as he steps onto the snow cleared deck. “Where the hell did that dog come from?”
“The neighbor. Just for the day,” I hurry to explain. “I’ll take him home when the guy gets home from work. Abby is loving it though.”
“I’m sure.” He folds his arms against his chest while he watches his daughter frolic with her menagerie. “Think maybe she’ll be a vet when she grows up? If she doesn’t decide to pursue golf, that is.”
“Possibly.” I nod.
“Is that a dog?” Erin joins us, wrapping an arm around him.
“Yep. Not ours.” He turns to engulf her in a hug.
“Maybe we should consider getting one,” Erin says.
“Hmmm.” Garrett turns to me. “Why don’t you take a break, Evie? I’ve been looking forward to spending some time with my daughter all day. Told her we’d build a snowman and then make hot chocolate.”
“Take the rest of the day,” Erin agrees.
“Okay.”
“Just make sure you take that dog home,” Garrett reminds me.
“Of course.” I leave them and hightail it to my room to open the email on my computer.
It takes me twenty minutes to read through the contract, another ten minutes of hemming and hawing. But let’s be real here. The one man I’ve met that I could see myself going on a date with is either involved or a player. And four weeks is a long time to keep the latter type of guy’s interest. I electronically sign the document and email it back. Done.
How’s Mutt Everest?
His text takes me by surprise while I’m lying on my bed, reading on my Kindle. I can’t help smirking at his word play.
Fine. Afraid of a duck.
Really? The duck?
I push up on my elbows, press my lips together as I consider what to say next. He’s a pussycat.
Pretty sure he’s a dog. Pussies are a man’s real best friend, you know.
With a quick intake of breath, I fumble and drop my phone. I don’t know whether to take him seriously, or if he’s flirting with me. Should I change the subject?
I suppose all you need to do to get them purring is to stroke them right.
I roll my gaze to the ceiling as my face shines hotter than a heat lamp. Wh
y on earth did I write that? And he isn’t responding. No new text comes through. I stare at the screen for a full five minutes before I decide that I would have blown any date with Max anyway and go back to my book.
There are so many things I could respond with. Things that would make you blush now that you’ve put the thought in my head. Trust me when I tell you that my lack of answer is purely because I don’t want to scare you off.
Holy shit. Something inside me catches fire. I’m in serious danger of the cobwebs in my vagina going up in an inferno.
What’s that supposed to mean?
Crap. What if I just inadvertently asked for something I’m not sure I want? Like a disgustingly handsome man telling me the wicked things he’s imagining doing to me? Like a dick pic? Although, that’s one dick I might not mind seeing in person, it’s probably best to clarify. Draw the line.
If this is going to be answered with an image of any part of your anatomy, it better be your eyes.
Dammit. Removes camera from pants. Just kidding. You’re a nice girl, Evie. That’s what I think. And you don’t know me, so you probably don’t want to know that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I ran into you at the park.
You have a dog to thank for that. I add a few laughing emojis before I hit send. He’s been thinking about me?
I better get back to work now. I’ll text you when I get home.
I put my phone down and go back to reading, but the words aren’t sinking in. He’s just a flirt. He probably talks to women like that all the time, but it’s been a long time since anyone’s chatted me up. It feels nice. Better than nice. Biting my lip, I drop my head to keep my smile hidden. A squishy warm happiness fills my chest cavity, the kind of feeling usually reserved for special awesome moments.
My phone rings, and I pounce on it, but it’s a woman’s voice that comes through. “Hi, Evie. This is Deanna Holt from Puppy Love. I just got your contract. Can I just say how excited I am to have you on board for this venture?”
“Thank you,” I respond automatically. Max temporarily eclipsed the fact that I have just signed a contract where I have to go on a date with a complete stranger, but this is how I’ll find my Valentine’s date. The date I have to have if I want to survive Hannah’s party. I try to muster up some excitement. “I’m thrilled that you picked me. I can’t wait to meet all the dogs, and the date at the end of it.”
