I run forward, my hand finding the collar of my dog and yanking him backward as I search the ground to find the source of the small-dog barks still piercing the air.
Then I register that the sound is coming from above, and realize…
The cotton ball isn’t a cat.
That orange piece of fluff is a dog, and Ranger is apparently in love.
“What the heck is wrong with your dog?” the girl says as she slowly lowers the puffball from over her head, cradling the hideous little monster against her chest as it continues its high-pitched bloody-murder yips.
“At least my dog is actually a dog,” I say, staring in horror at the pointy face of a canine that could fit in one of my hands. “I’ve seen dust bunnies bigger than that thing.”
“Dolly’s a Pomeranian,” she says, setting a hand on top of the monster’s head. “She’s supposed to be this tiny.”
“Well, Ranger’s a Lab. He’s supposed to be this normal.”
“He attacked me,” she says, giving Ranger a wary look as his tongue hangs out the side of his mouth, his eyes locked lovingly on Dolly.
“He didn’t want you, he wanted the…dog,” I say, forcing myself to acknowledge that the creature in her hands might be part of the canine family.
“For what, dinner?”
&
nbsp; I don’t respond, because now that the crisis is averted, I’ve managed to shift my attention from the dogs to the girl, and…
Holy shit.
I’m not sure I’ve ever been sucker-punched by equal waves of lust and disdain before.
Jenny Dawson is hot as hell.
I knew that going in, but up close she’s even more mouthwatering. Her white skirt is short and tight, her legs long and toned.
She’s wearing some billowing pink top, so I can’t get a good look at what’s happening there, but it doesn’t really matter. I’ve always been a legs man, and I can’t stop looking.
The legs are a 10.
The face is a 10.
And the long blond hair spilling over one shoulder definitely begs to be spread over a man’s pillow. My pillow.
And yet even as my cock says yes, my brain is saying hell no.
Gorgeous as she is, she screams diva from the pink toenails to the sky-high stiletto sandals and all the way up to the carefully made-up face.
I just turned my entire life upside down trying to get away from a woman exactly like this one, so this is definitely a look, don’t touch situation.
But I’m looking. I’m definitely looking.
“Hi there! You must be Mr. Walcott!” Her smile is pretty, even if it’s probably fake, and she pushes her big sunglasses on top of her head, revealing wide blue eyes.
I open my mouth to respond, until I realize she’s not talking to me. Her eyes are locked over my shoulder, and I turn to see Vaughn and Finn walking toward us with a slightly dazed look on their faces.
Finn has Ranger’s leash in his hand, and I snatch it as he gets close, clipping it on my big horny dog as I glare at my big horny friends.
It’s obvious why Jenny’s question is directed at Vaughn. In his fussy suit, he looks the part of Preston Walcott, and I open my mouth to shoot down her snotty assumption.
Only instead of telling her the truth, the most bullshit thing comes out: “Obviously this is Mr. Walcott.”