Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 111980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Now, I’m aware of how small it is, and how sad my car is. Sawyer can probably afford a couple of these homes with pocket change. Well, I did eventually look him up. Dog Tails does well. He has an eye for business.
But I swallow my pride as I reply.
Chloe: Do you like dogs in your car?
Sawyer: In and out of it.
That works for me, so we set a time—in the late afternoon.
When he arrives ten minutes early, I’m already waiting outside my home. It’s easier that way. No need to show him around or let him see pieces of my life. We’re business associates—partners in a way. He doesn’t need to see the dog place mats on the floor, or the vintage rubber ducks scattered on the coffee table, or the millions of serums on the vanity, because, well, a girl’s got to have a guilty pleasure, and I doubt I’ll regret skin care.
I walk across the small stone path to the curb right as he pops out of his black electric car looking so very Sawyer. I swear the man never dresses down. He’s wearing burgundy slacks and a crisp white shirt, along with a dusty-blue patterned tie. “Admit it—you don’t own jeans.”
“Hmm. Wasn’t I wearing jeans the day I met you?” he asks, stroking his beard.
“Nope,” I say with a quick headshake. “Khaki shorts.”
A gotcha smile spreads on his too-handsome face. “That was a test. To see if you remembered.”
I groan. “You ass.”
“And you pretended you never wanted to see me again,” he says.
I gesture to the road. “I think I’ll walk.”
He pats the roof of the car. “Get in, woman,” he says—an order, and I hate that I like it. Especially when he leans in and says in a sexy whisper, even though it’s just us here, “And you wore the sexiest white dress I’d ever seen.”
A shiver races along my spine, then dashes down my legs too. I try to catch my breath, but it’s not easy since I’m also catching a hint of his scent—citrus and cedar and a bit of soap. It’s intoxicating, like it was the night we spent together.
But I don’t get in the car yet, since Captain goes first. Sawyer opens the back door for my pup. “Load up,” I tell the best boy in the world, grateful to focus on him.
Captain hops inside and lies down, his big brown eyes on me, asking if he did good. “You’re the best,” I tell him.
Sawyer reaches for the passenger door and opens it for me. “After you.”
Well, he’s an ass and a gentleman. Not the worst combo. “Thanks for the ride,” I say, smoothing a hand over my high-waisted slacks.
“I had a meeting, so it was no problem,” he says, and as I sit down he walks around the front of the car, and I can’t help but admire his strong frame, the way his clothes fit so well and hug his biceps just so. How his shirt stretches neatly over his abs, then dips down into the waist of his pants. Absently, I drag the corner of my lips along my teeth.
He slides into the front seat, then looks my way. “Admiring the view?”
Heat splashes across my cheeks, but I hold my head up high, denying it with, “Of the street, Sawyer. Of the street.”
He peers down the cute little lane, full of petite bungalows and well-kept lawns bursting with summer flowers. “It’s a nice street. That just makes sense,” he says dryly.
“Thanks. The Horny House is at the end of it.”
He whips his gaze to me. “No shit! I knew this place felt familiar.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “You know The Horny House?”
“My sister and her husband—longtime friend of mine—own it. They were gifted it by a listener of their podcast, and they turned it into a place for—”
“Couples retreats!” I say excitedly, thrilled he knows some of the town lore. “I didn’t realize you were connected.”
“I even encouraged my friend to go after my sister. I knew he had it bad for her.”
“Aren’t you just Mister Enlightened.”
“I try. Sometimes,” he says. “Anyway, cool house. Juliet told me what they did with it.”
“A lady named Dottie is the caretaker now when the house isn’t being used for retreats. She’s amazing,” I say. “She looks out for everyone.”
“I can see now why you were checking out…the street,” he says, deliberately slow and seductive on those last words.
I remain steadfast though as I say, “I was.”
Sawyer gives me an approving nod. “You look great. Very professional. Not that you ever don’t. I’m just saying—this is a good look for the meeting.”
I glance down at the cap-sleeved blouse with illustrations of delicate wildflowers, then back up. “Thanks. I wanted to look…fashionable? Hollywood-ish?”
“It’s working,” he says. “You’re going to nail this.”
I hear my mom say confidence again. Sawyer has that for sure. I wish it weren’t so…appealing. “Let’s hope so,” I say.