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)
I unlock the first of the double gates—they’re white wood and pristine—and my eyes widen. I knew the event was bougie, since it’s held at a just-opened dog park. But wow—is that a lake over there for the dogs to splash around in? Well, it sure seems to be since it’s filled with Labs and Collies paddling after tennis balls.
I open the second gate, then shut it behind me and gawk.
A long, high table by a gazebo holds a cake large enough for me to make out the words Best Boy written in a curly font above a dog bone illustration. A gate keeps the industrious pups out of the gazebo, where buffet tables are set up with appetizers and other treats for humans. Off in another corner of the lush, emerald-green lawn are baskets full of dog toys. And next to that is a stage. A band is setting up.
It’s so over the top, and this is exactly what I need. The chance to chat with one chichi, dog-loving client after another. I squint. I’m pretty sure I spot a rising-star actress over there by the lake. Is that Veronica Angel? Her role as a zodiac-obsessed, heart-on-her-sleeve hippie in a dark comedy has been all the rage, and with good reason—who doesn’t love a zodiac lover. Maybe there are agents here, too, repping dogs? Producers for, I don’t know, dog reality shows?
As I head deeper into the park, Florence spots me, waving grandly my way, bangles sliding down the bronze skin of her arms. She scurries over, a smile cresting across her face. She’s probably coming over to tell me how excited she is to introduce me to everyone.
“You made it, babe,” Florence says, then tosses her arms around me. She’s a hugger all right, and I’ve had to become a hugger thanks to all the octopuses in my life, so I step into her embrace.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. This party is amazing, and Bagel deserves to have all the fun,” I say once she lets go.
The best boy in question trots my way right now, in all his loaf-of-bread Corgi mix glory. When he arrives, he parks himself in a perfect sit at my feet, then offers me a paw for high-fiving.
“Dude, now you’re just showing off for your dog trainer,” Florence says to him, then scratches his chin. “But like I told you, Chloe’s not working tonight.” Florence turns back to me and squeezes my arm. “I told Bagel you’re not here to babysit him. So do not even think about training him, okay? I want this party to be fun for everyone. No work. Just good times.”
And…I spoke too soon. With those two words spoken—no work—it’d probably be gauche to network tonight.
“I can’t think of anything more fun than this,” I say as brightly as I can muster.
Except maybe a stiff drink. Might as well bring the pity party here.
“Pro tip: get the Fuzzy Navel Hound. You won’t regret it,” she says with a straight face as if she’s read my mind. She gestures to the bar, a few feet from the lake.
“Sounds delish,” I say.
When she pats her thigh and Bagel follows gamely along as she presumably heads off to chat with someone else, I draw a deep breath, then reset my plans. Maybe it’s not the right place to network. But at least it’s a warm night, the drinks are flowing, and the entertainment looks to be top-notch.
If nothing else, this party will be a good story to tell my besties about when I return to town.
As I beeline to the bar in search of a Fuzzy Navel Hound, whatever that is, my gaze lands on a tall, sturdy man resting an elbow against the end of the bar, checking out the scene. He has dark, wavy hair, soulful eyes, and a scowl on his handsome face.
Hello, sir.
Why am I always attracted to the grumpy ones? If I only knew, I could write a book about the charisma of the cantankerous male. My body hums as I take in the chiseled jaw lined with a trim beard, the strong nose, the broad chest. He’s dressed in khaki shorts and a white linen shirt that can’t hide the muscles in his arms. His eyes are crinkled at the corners as he seems to take in the whole event.
But I keep returning to that serious mouth. Especially since his scruff is making me wonder if I could use his beard as an exfoliator.
On my thighs.
That sounds better than salted caramel tiramisu ice cream for erasing the day.
But when he turns to a stunning brunette by his side, my shoulders slump.
Of course he’s taken. That’s just my luck.
2
A DAY ERASER
SAWYER
My sisters have cajoled me into doing a lot of things for them over the years. Going shopping for prom dresses. Taking them to a boy band concert. Driving them to the mall to get their ears double-pierced when Mom wasn’t paying attention.