“Please. You run a dog business,” she counters, calling bullshit.
“It’s not like this though,” I grumble.
“Sawyer, are you seriously complaining about a party? You need some fun in your life. Especially today,” she says, gentling her tone.
She barely has to remind me why. I signed the papers mere hours ago. I drag a hand through my hair, as if that’ll get rid of the sting of selling the home that I once shared with my fiancée. “When you said fun, I thought you meant Skee-Ball or pool.”
She tosses her head back, brown hair spilling down her back as she laughs.At me. Definitely at me. “I didn’t mean a round of pool. I never mean a round of pool. And your attitude proves my point—this is exactly what you need. Something light. Something delightful. You don’t need to hide in a darkened man bar and grunt with the other guys as you shoot balls into holes. You need…” She slaps a hand on the bar. “A Paw-garita.”
I’m not sure I want to know, but against my better judgment, I ask anyway. “What even is a Paw-garita?”
“Who knows?” She sets a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “But whatever it is—you need it.”
She’s so earnest and supportive, like she was earlier when she arrived at the empty house here in Hayes Valley and walked through it one last time with me. My shoes had echoed across the floorboards of the home I’d shared with the woman I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with.
On the front porch, Juliet had refused to let me go to my hotel room to work on my plans for business expansion or whittle away at my to-do list as I prep to move to a new town in a couple weeks. Nope—the order of the day, or really, the night, was a party.
I hate letting her down, so I’d said yes. Maybe that wasn’t my brightest idea. I sigh and scrub a hand across my jaw but try my best to let go of this knot of tension inside me. Hell, it’s more than a knot. It’s a steel ball. It’s not Juliet’s fault though.
“You’re right,” I say with a decisive nod, then ask, “Two tequilas?”
“One for you, and one for your attitude?” she asks with a smirk.
I look to the skies. “Why did I say yes to this?”
“Because you know it’s exactly what you need,” Juliet says, poking my chest as a late-May breeze rustles and the scent of something a little cinnamon-y tickles my nose.
I turn toward it, and…
Nope. Not tonight. I don’t have the energy to flirt. I came here to suffer throughonepaw-themed cocktail, not get blindsided by a woman who looks like summer in a dress. But fuck me. The woman walking toward the bar is gorgeous. Red hair is piled high on herhead in a bun. Freckles dance across her cute nose. Bright, curious eyes sparkle with interest as she peers at the chalkboard menu, a little pink purse dangling on her wrist.
I can’t tell what color her eyes are. Green? Maybe hazel? I’m not sure, but I want to be. My gaze strays down her body next, savoring the way that white summery dress swishes as she moves, showing off strong legs and hinting at a strong body underneath.
When she arrives, she looks straight at the bartender and says an upbeat, “Hello,” right as an elbow lodges into my side.
“Ow,” I mutter, then snap my focus to my sister.
Juliet smirks. Tilts her head. Then clears her throat, catching the redhead’s full attention. “Hi! I’m Juliet, and this is my brother, Sawyer. Some party, isn’t it?”
Are you kidding me? This move is even more nefarious than tricking me into coming to a dog party.
But the redhead isn’t fazed by my sister’s overly outgoing tactic. “Sure is,” she says. “If only I can figure out what’ll be better—a Piña Collie-ada or a Cosmo-pup-itan. Also, nice to meet you both. I’m Chloe.”
“Chloe,” Juliet repeats like the name itself is magic. “What a pretty name. Are you single?”
Chloe blinks and parts her lips but says nothing, while I stare at Juliet, muttering, “You’re as subtle as a sledgehammer.”
My sister shrugs innocently. “It’s a reasonable question.”
Chloe recovers from her surprise to smile at the world’s most obvious wingwoman. “As a matter of fact, I’m very single, Juliet.”
Fine,fine.I do like the sound ofvery single, but I’m still pissedat Juliet, who’s grinning like the devil as she curls a hand over my shoulder, ignoring me as she talks past me. “So’s Sawyer. And, funny thing, he was just asking me what’s in a Paw-garita?—”
“I was not.”
“He was,” Juliet stage-whispers. “Maybe you two can figure that out while I go…powder my nose? Yes, that’s what I’ll do. Does that work for you, Chloe?”
She’s clearly asking for Chloe’s consent to this whole setup, and I do appreciate that. Almost as much as I appreciate Chloe’s smile, bright and bold.
