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)
“Shut the front door,” I say.
“I take it that’s a yes?”
“Ten million yeses,” I say, and the fact that the coconut reminds me of my fantastic one-night stand gives me a little zing. It feels like a good-luck charm. Another sign that today will go as swimmingly as that night did. “But add in a slice of lemon and banana bread too. Just in case someone doesn’t like coconut.”
“It’s been known to happen—dislike of coconut,” she says dryly, then gathers the goodies. “Do you need help carrying anything?”
I shake my head. “Former juggler in the house.”
With a smile, she says, “I remember when you learned how to juggle plates when that dickhead Stephen Miller said a girl couldn’t juggle. You proved him wrong.”
“And it was a pleasure.”
After I pay, I hoist my backpack higher on my shoulder, along with my woven bag, so I can carry the white box with pink polka dots back across the street. Like a pro.
When I reach Dog Tails, I shed my nerves, hold my head high, and walk inside. “Good morning,” I say cheerily.
I don’t see Zuri, but there’s a man behind the counter, with his back to me. He’s tall, with strong shoulders, thick dark hair, and a tailored shirt, by the cut of it. He wears fancy charcoal slacks, maybe even a tie. Something about the curve of his shoulders, the way he moves, is familiar.
The way he seems to tense, too, at the sound of my voice.
When he turns around, my heart stops.
It’s my one-night stand.
9
MALE LOGIC
SAWYER
On the one hand, I’ve definitely entertained some very excellent dreams over the last month about the mysterious, funny, cinnamon-scented Chloe.
She’s the bold and fiery redhead I haven’t been able to stop fantasizing about since the morning I reached sleepily across a hotel bed, expecting to find a warm, lovely woman, and coming up empty. Just a wrinkled sheet, the fading smell of hotel shampoo on the soft pillow, and a note saying thanks.
Admittedly, that had been disappointing. I’d been hoping to at least take her out to breakfast. To maybe grab her number for…I dunno…next year?
To set a time and a date for an if-we’re-still-single-in-a-year kind of thing.
But I shrugged off those feelings, since we had a deal. It was a one-time occasion.
Now this—her showing up here? This is either one hell of a coincidence…or this is stalking. Like, world-class-level stalking.
Because standing inside my new business is the woman who took a photo of my driver’s license. Is she…pregnant?
No.
Just no.
We used a condom. It didn’t break. I’m not going to let myself think that.
“Chloe?” I ask, needing to be sure my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me.
Her brow knits briefly, but then a small grin forms as she asks, “Sawyer?”
I take a beat, trying to figure out what the hell I’m feeling as a cheery Chloe holds out a box of delicious-smelling pastries—donuts? Rolls?—while wearing lip gloss and a hopeful smile.
I’ve heard of this kind of thing but never experienced it. Someone showing up after a one-night stand, determined to make it two. Or more? She knew my last name from my ID. She could’ve looked me up. Do I like that? Or is it weird? I don’t know what to think.
I’m kind of turned on by her sheer determination…and also a little freaked out.
It’s my first day at the newest location for Dog Tails—my eighth. I’ve been steadily growing the dog daycare business over the last two years, setting up each new location, then turning them over to the managers for the day-to-day, but the last thing I expected was a blast from the recent past. Even her. I lift a finger, trying to connect the dots—her appearing here, out of thin air, on my first day.
Yes, I maybe thought about seeing her again. I even fantasized about it. But not here. “Did you show up because you knew it was my first day?”
She hesitates, her lips parting like she’s searching for the right words. “Well…yeah. I mean, I knew you’d be here today.”
My pulse skitters. She’s been waiting to ambush me? At work? That’s…hot? No, it’s creepy. It’s seriously creepy. I swallow hard. “So you knew I was starting this morning?” I ask, trying to make sense of her appearance out of the blue. She could have picked any of the eight locations I own, but she chose this one—the one that’s specifically my new home base.
After she sets down the box, a backpack, and a bag—she’s really making herself at home—she gestures vaguely toward the front counter, filled with the dog treats, dog bags, and stickers we sell, then to the small nook by the window. “Of course. I thought it would be the nice thing to do. And to bring some…um…goodies,” she says, her gaze swinging to the box. “I got some sweet breads.”