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He leans back, relaxing his posture. “No, it’s not that. Well,” he bites his lower lip, “it’s silly, really.”
“Tell me. Please.”
He smiles. “Ok, but no laughing.”
I giggle. “Promise.”
“It’s a beer for dogs. But…” he continues before I can say anything, “it’s not beer at all, it’s a healthy drink with all the joint stuff, and healthy probiotics they need.”
I blink at him, suddenly having a whole new appreciation for the man sitting before me.
“That’s so clever. What made you decide this?”
“Well, the market is untapped for dogs too. More and more people are including dogs into their daily life outside of the home.” He leans back in his seat. “Look at you. Do dogs really need to be married?”
I laugh a little. “No, they don’t.”
“Exactly. So, this is just one of those things.”
“I,” can’t believe this man, “think it’s a brilliant idea. Have you told your family?”
He shakes his head, the bright light in his eyes going dim at the mention of his family. “No, I wanted to get a batch together and test it out. Would you maybe want to help?”
“I’d love to help.” And then I concentrate on the ocean, to escape the intensity of him. I need to remember why I’m here. This is not a date.
“Are you ok?” Ellis asks.
“Yes.” I set my beer on the table, ready to be professional. “So, tell me what you had in mind for the wedding.”
He chokes a bit on his beer, and it’s my turn to ask him if he’s ok.
“Yeah,” he answers. “I guess something not traditional? Maybe a beach wedding. The beach is a good place.”
My heart stops beating. “Maybe by the turtle sanctuary?”
“Yes, that’s perfect.”
“Who’s the bride?”
He lifts his mug and stares at me over the rim as he takes a long drink. A very long drink. By the time he licks the residue from his sensual lips, I’ve forgotten the question.
“Angel,” he says.
I blink. “Um, yes?”
He laughs a little. “No, her name is Angel.” He takes another long drink, draining his beer. “She’s a German Shepherd.”
“Really?” I laugh. “Well, that’s an interesting couple.”
“Yeah. Spanky is a stud.”
“I bet.” Just like his owner. I clap my hands together. “Welp, I have a great idea. Why don’t you bring Spanky in for a Spawesome Pamper Package so I can meet him?”
“Oh, that sounds interesting.”
“It’s a great way to relax.”
Ellis nods along with me, but he has no clue what he’s signing up for.
THIRTEEN
Ellis
Never lie about a dog...
“I promise I’m not going to sell your dog,” I tell Urban over the phone. I can’t back out of the spawesome whatever she called it. “Spanky will love it.” Lucky for me, dogs don’t talk, because I’m one-hundred percent sure Urban’s dog would rat me out about not being his owner.
“This must be about Kiki,” Urban says, with too much wisdom for his own good.
I sigh. Maybe I should just come clean with Kiki about not owning a dog. I want a dog—trust me, I love dogs—but working all the time and living in a skyrise with no yard makes caring for one difficult.
“I’ll swing by, pick him up, and have him back to you in a couple of hours, and then we can go over business.”
“Deal.” Urban hangs up the phone, and I grab my keys and wallet off the hotel dresser.
I pick up the dog in record time, deposit his long body in the passenger seat, and head toward the Dog Spaw, looking like a legit dog owner.
I have all the things: a leash, a collapsible dog bowl, and a bag for poop. Not really happy about that last one.
To test things, and make sure we’re in this together, I call my new buddy Spanky a few times on the ride over to see if he’ll listen to me like I’m his owner. He doesn’t.
Perfect.
A dog that hates me.
It’s fine. It’s not like we’ll be hanging out. I’ll drop him off for his spa treatment and chat up Kiki while he’s being bathed and pampered. He’ll be thanking me afterward, because I’m pretty sure Urban’s idea of washing this dog is a hose in the backyard.
We pull up to the bright pink building, and I throw the car in park and look into his buggy brown eyes. “You ready for a bath, boy?” I rub the back of his neck while he looks at the building with about as much enthusiasm as a cyborg.
I roll my eyes and open the door. “Let’s go, Spanky.”
Surprisingly, he crosses from the passenger seat to the driver seat and I help him out of the car.
When we step inside the cool air-conditioned lobby, Kiki waves at us from behind a horseshoe-shaped counter.
Damn, she sure takes the breath away with that killer smile she has.
“We’re here for the package,” I say, guiding the dog across the tiled floor.
