I swallow roughly as I work. When it’s time for me to paint the highest corner, I reach for the step stool I brought in, but he’s already striding over, palm out. “Let me help.”
Three little words that do something inconvenient to my insides. August was never a helper. He was a taker.
It reminds me, too, of how Sawyer talked to me in bed.Confident. Capable. Commanding.Come here, Chloe. Turn around. Put your hands against the wall.
I shiver from the white-hot memories crashing into me, and I go with it, handing over a brush.
Sawyer takes it, climbs the step stool, and starts carefully painting the top corner.
Do not stare at him painting.
Do not ogle him as he stretches.
Do not gawk at the way his shirt rides up, exposing his lower abs.
I do all of it.
I’m caught mid-eye-fuck when his gaze turns, slow and deliberate, a cocky smile curving his lips. “Enjoying the view?”
I snap my eyes away as my cheeks heat. “Nope. Just checking out your…technique.”
“Do you approve?”
“It’ll do,” I rasp, because it’s way too warm in here.
When he climbs down and wipes his hands, he checks his watch. “I should…go.”
“Right,” I say, and he’s helped more than I’d expected. “Probably need to get back to your…computer, and your Zoom calls, and all your…boss stuff.”
Hedoesseem like a computer guy—running spreadsheets, checking sales, crunching profit and loss.
His eyes shift. “I have…someplace to be.”
Huh. Thatsomeplacesounds…secretive? Or is it just me? “Okay,” I say.
He checks his watch again, nods like he’s agreeing with himself. “Yeah. I better take off.”
He doesn’t say goodbye. Just grabs his shirt, heads through the doggie daycare, and exits a minute later before anyone else notices.
That was a fast goodbye.
Probably has a hot date. It is a Thursday night, after all.
My jaw tightens at the thought—and stays tight as I finish painting the last corner alone.
* * *
As I clean up, I don’t think about his date. I think about the message Linus sent earlier this evening, letting me know the meeting with the producers will be sometime next week and to hang tight for details. I think about my new clients and the info I researched on them last night—they’ve both been cast in the new Webflix showthat’s coming to town. I think about the skills I want to teach their dogs, if they don’t know them already.
And the whole time I don’t at all imagine Sawyer walking into Prohibition Spirit or Clementine’s Tapas Bar right now, striding up to the counter, planting a sensual kiss on the neck of some woman he met online.
And…crap.
I nearly crush the paintbrush handle.
Where is a calming app when you need it? But the universe hears my prayer, since my phone trills as I’m sealing the caps on the paint.
“Darling, you’ll never guess who I ran into,” my mom says when I pick up. She wastes no time when it comes to drama or gossip.
