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)
When I pick it up, it’s a message from Alexandra saying she’d like to meet tomorrow afternoon. She closes with: It’s important.
And yup, this day just got worse.
36
YOU DICK
SAWYER
Through my morning workout, all I can think is Alexandra is going to cancel the contract for the show. She’s going to be unhappy with how I handled the event. She’s going to say it’s the opposite of what I pitched her.
She’d be right.
And then I’ll have ruined this chance for Chloe. Probably. Possibly. I’m nothing but a block of dread as I run past the horse farm. Alone. I can’t people this morning, so I canceled on Banks to run solo.
The horse whinnies at me. Sounds like it says, “You dick.”
I deserve it.
I finish my run alone. I don’t even listen to music.
* * *
“Dude. This has more views than when Noah slipped on the bar of soap in his own soap store.”
That’s Levi’s assessment as I walk into work later that morning with Mister Dog by my side. I grit my teeth, wanting to just tell them to put their damn phones away. Instead, I say nothing, really leaning into the whole “grumpy guy” role hard now.
“Darling Springs is on the map. Everyone knows our town,” Hazel says.
“And bookings are up,” Zuri adds.
I should be happy, but I didn’t want business to increase this way. Not when I’m probably going to lose a marquee contract. The TV crew is supposed to shoot another scene here next week. I’ve arranged talent waivers with the dog extras. I’ve got everything ready, and now that’s probably not going to happen.
“Isn’t that good?” Zuri asks.
What? “Huh?”
“I said we’re fully booked,” she repeats.
“Oh. Okay,” I say as my dog wags his tail.
Zuri whips her gaze back at me like she’s wondering what she did wrong—and I feel like an ass.
Well, you are one.
When I turn around, Chloe’s in the training nook working with a client.
“Yes, the key is positive reinforcement. And that’s one of the things I like most about dogs. They’re dependable and reliable. Even if things don’t go their way, they keep showing up for you.”
My gut twists. Yup. I’m the villain in this story.
I walk to my office, shut the door, and stay in there with Mister Dog.
At least I didn’t fuck up with him.
* * *
I’ve got one hour till my meeting, but at three, my phone rings. Alexandra’s name flashes on the screen, and my stomach plummets. But I man up and answer it.
“Sawyer here.”
“It’s Alexandra. Can you meet me earlier? At Pick Me Up? I’m there now.”
That’s all she says.
I answer with a stoic, “Yes.”
She must be ready to axe me now.
When I head to the door to leave, with Mister Dog trotting into the dog play area, I try not to look at Chloe’s training nook. But it’s impossible not to, with her bent over her tablet, taking notes.
All at once, I wonder…Did I mess things up for her business? I rap on the door even though it’s open.
She looks up, but her expression’s unreadable. “Yes?”
“Did I…Are you? Is everything okay with your business?”
Her brow furrows. “Yes.”
The clock on the wall ticks interminably loudly. The dogs’ barks from the other room seem to echo in the space as she stares at me, saying nothing.
“Good. I was concerned.”
She arches a brow. “Were you?”
It’s…doubtful. And I deserve that too.
“I was. Of course I was. I want things to go well for you.”
“We don’t always get what we want,” she says, and shit, that hurts. But I take it on the chin. “Anyway, I’m fine,” she adds, all tough woman and strong. “In fact, I’ve had new inquiries. So really, thanks.”
She returns to her work, ignoring me, and I suppose I deserve that. Her dismissal.
I head down the block to the coffee shop, draw a deep, steadying breath, and prepare to take Alexandra’s news like an adult.
Not like a robot. Or a human with a beef.
A grown-ass adult.
When I swing open the door, I spot her sleek hair, snakeskin purse, and intense focus as she tap, tap, taps away on her phone. I head right over to Alexandra, sit down, and say hello.
“Good afternoon, Sawyer,” she says, and I can’t get a read on her.
But it doesn’t matter. I need to handle this meeting better than I handled myself yesterday at the pool.
“Before we begin, I just wanted to say I’m very sorry for yesterday. I handled it badly. The event was a fiasco. It didn’t go the way you wanted, and that’s on me, but if you’ll give me another chance—”
She waves a hand, dismissing me like she has no time for this. “The event was fine. Better than fine, actually.”
Wait. What? “It was?”
“Jubilee’s Ball Is Life video went viral. She’s been asked to endorse a line of Happily Maybe After tennis balls, and we’ll probably incorporate a tennis storyline into the show,” she says, then taps her nails on the table as she lowers her voice. “But what I really wanted to discuss is this.”