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)
“Thanks,” he says evenly. “But it’s all good.”
As he scrubs nontoxic, cruelty-free shampoo into the white dog’s fur, Levi shakes his head, too amused. “Boss man, does nothing faze you?”
“A dog stealing my tie certainly doesn’t,” Sawyer retorts.
“Remember the other day? When a client was freaking out about whether her dog left his favorite lovey here?” Hazel recounts, and I must have missed that moment.
“Yep! And Sawyer was like we’ll find his stuffed bear for you,” Levi puts in.
“And he did,” Zuri says proudly. “Found that lovey hidden in the back of a dog cubby.”
Sawyer just shrugs and scratches his jaw. “It’s the job.”
He’s so unflappable. It’s kind of hot. I’m enjoying watching him handle everything with so much chill. Even when Levi clears his throat and says, “Will you wear a tie at the fundraiser?”
Oh. Sawyer must have told them. I wonder how that went.
Sawyer meets Levi’s gaze straight on. “I haven’t decided yet. But glad you read the email about the fundraiser.” And that answers that—he emailed his staff. That’s so very him.
“I read email occasionally,” Levi says dryly.
“Good. Don’t forget we’re staying open that night to help with any performers or attendees who want dog daycare.”
Levi gives a crisp nod. “Yes, Mr. Sinatra.”
“Ooh, will Mr. Sinatra wear the green tie?” Hazel asks.
Sawyer gives a light laugh. “We’ll see.”
“But what will you do today?” Hazel presses, clearly enjoying poking fun at him.
“It’s just a tie. I have another with me anyway,” Sawyer says.
“Of course you do,” I say with an eye roll that’s borderline affectionate. I tense. Shit. Was that too flirty? Does that reveal too much about our secret? Sure, everyone here teases him, but does my teasing sound…naughtier?
My cheeks heat, and I jerk my gaze away from him. I’ll just ignore my own flirtations, thank you very much.
I march to the training nook with the tie and stuff it into my purse so I can take it home. No one can tell. You’re fine.
I spend the rest of the day making sure I’m not giving anything away. It’s easy enough since I have more training sessions—a friend of Veronica’s, and a couple locals too.
In the late afternoon, I’m straightening up my nook when a handsome man in a suit—no tie—walks in with a confident swagger. His dark hair is swoopy, and his friendly eyes laser in on me first. “Hello there. I’d love to hear all about doggie daycare and training,” he says in a charming British accent.
Sawyer’s at the counter, so he chimes in, giving the man the details about Dog Tails. After, I tell him about my training.
“Brilliant,” the man says, then flashes me a fantastic smile. “I’m Ian. I’ll be in touch.”
“Wonderful. Have a great day,” I say as I wave goodbye.
When he leaves, Sawyer’s forehead is full frowny, and his jaw is set hard.
But the phone rings, and then my alarm for another session goes off. There’s no time to talk to Sawyer privately in the evening either, since I head to the theater for a rehearsal after I finish for the day. I’m a little early, and my mom is still working with The Hot Shots. They’ll open the fundraiser, but I don’t need to rehearse with them since they’re a cappella. I slip in behind her into the second row as the firefighters onstage start humming the opening notes to a familiar tune. The men and women in blue khakis and matching T-shirts that make their profession crystal clear shimmy their hips a little from side to side, while the Darling Springs fire captain croons in a deep baritone about whether a little girl’s daddy is home.
They’re practicing Bruce Springsteen’s “I’m on Fire.”
Damn, they sound good. The music thrums in my bones; the lyrics seep into my body. And as the first responders work through the sexy song, I feel, really feel, the words and the meaning about trying to cool a desire.
My mind happily wanders, too, and soon I’m picturing Sawyer singing this at Pour Decisions. Locking eyes with a woman in the audience. Singing the words of obsession to me.
I’m practically squirming by the time it ends. And I ache more than I want to in a community theater. Someone needs to cool my desire.
When the song ends, I tap my mom’s shoulder. “They’re amazing. But maybe they should sing ‘On the Good Ship Lollipop’ next?”
She arches a pristinely groomed brow. “Darling. Don’t say such things. They have one more song, and then we’ll move into our rehearsal.”
I exhale, trying to let go of the sparks inside me, but when the group launches into Kings of Leon’s “Sex on Fire,” I bolt up. “I need to get a cold drink of water.”
Or an ice bucket.
When I return, Mom pulls me aside and says, “Do you and your brother want to sing ‘Islands in the Stream’ this year?”