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, Imaybethought about seeing her again. I even fantasized about it. But nothere. “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 chosethisone—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.”
She says all that like it’s normal to show up with a box of baked goods after we slept together a month ago. “Breads?” I ask.
Chloe glances down at the box, then back up at me, apologetic, but also…upbeat. Like she has a plan to win me over. “I thought it’d be nice. You know, since we’re both starting something here,” she says, smiling.
Here? What are we starting? What is she even talking about? “You brought me bread.” My voice goes flat as I reach for the box, warily, unsure if I want to touch it but knowing I have to.
“Well, not just for you. Anyone here. It’s just a nice gesture.” She’s floundering. “Unless you’re gluten-free. Are you? Because if so, I should’ve thought of an alternative. But you ate bread that night…”
Holy shit. She remembers everything. The bread. The fries. The stupid speech I gave about avocado toast. It was one night. And she’s held on to all those detailsandgleaned all sorts of new ones. My full name, my location, and…what else?
Maybe I dodged a bullet by her disappearing act that morning. Except…nope. She didn’t disappear at all. She fucking waited to reappear.
I flick at the box, like it’s a bomb I need to defuse by opening it very slowly. I lift a corner and my blood goes cold. “This is…coconutbread,” I hiss.
“It sounded good,” she says, her voice rising an octave.
“Coconut,” I repeat, like it’s poison. I can’t believe she’s here, with something she knows I like. No,love. This isnothow I pictured running into her again. Not one bit. What the hell is happening?
“But you like coconut,” she says, clearly confused.
No shit. I told her everything—and now she’s just showing up with my favorite things? My chest feels tight, like I’m in a straitjacket. My gaze lands on her shirt. Light blue. The color of the dress I bought her. She planned every detail, down to her clothes. This isn’t a morning-after breakfast. This is a sneak attack, weaponized by pastries and color.
“That blue,” I say, like it’s the evidence at a crime scene. “It’s…”
But I can’t even finish. She knows. She dressed in the color I said looked good on her. She brought the food I love. And now she’s…what? Trying to seduce me into another date by showing up at my place of business unannounced?
She blinks, shakes her head, then resets, pasting on a fresh smile, like she keeps a dozen of them in her pocket. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. I’m Chloe Rivers, and I’m going to be working in the space I just leased.”
I step back, choking out the words. “You leased the space?”
“Obviously,” she says, frowning.
I drag a hand down my face. Zuri said she’d leased the training nook to someone local. A dog trainer. But this? This is the woman who took a photo of my ID and then…looked me up, tracked me from San Francisco, and rented space in my building. I narrow my eyes. “Is that why you took a photo of my license?”
“What?” Her eyes go wide. “Wh-what are you talking about?”
“Is that why you did it? So you could…what? Find out where I was setting up shop? Lease a space in the same building? Be close to me?”
She’s still for a long, quiet beat. The silence is long enough for me to wonder if I’ve gotten this wrong somehow. If I’ve twisted everything in the wrong direction. Confusion, then disappointment, flashes in those pretty hazel eyes. But the flecks of green in them are on fire. In a calm but deadly tone she asks, “Are you serious?”
“You did take a photo of my license,” I point out.
“Yes,” she says, her voice lethal. “Because I was going to a room with a stranger in a hotel, and maybe I wanted to make sure my friends could find you if you turned out to be a murderer!”
The words hit me like a slap. Of course that’s why she did it. “Sure, I know that’s important, but?—”
