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CHAPTER NINE
BRITTANY
Gently closing the door behind me, I feel a tad guilty, like I’m sneaking out on Grant. Which couldn’t be further from the truth. I mean, yes, I am leaving without him knowing… that sounds bad, and I cringe when starting the engine. I wanted to spend the entire night with him. I just couldn’t.
Wrapped in his arms, after what was probably the best sex of my life, we fell asleep. Several hours later, I woke up short of breath, with the heavy weight of his forearm draped over my chest.
Somehow, I managed to crawl out from beneath him without waking him. Using the light from my phone, I gathered my clothes, haphazardly throwing them on while panic spurred me on. I had a new client booked for seven and I couldn’t be late. And I left my dogs in their kennels at home, something I rarely did anymore and felt guilty over that.
Briefly shining the light over the bed, Grant looked so peaceful that I didn’t have the heart to wake him and, even more, I wanted to snuggle back into bed with him. My resolve was weak and the pull of him so strong that I took several steps toward him before.
Thankfully, common sense overrode my heart, and I left.
Once at home, I typed out a quick text and settled into my cold and empty bed to get some more sleep. Not surprisingly, my dreams were filled with Grant.
The next morning, before hopping in the shower, I check my phone and see nothing from him. Determined not to let that bother me- the poor guy might still be asleep after all- I quickly get ready and head out to my first client of the day.
I love my work. The dogs, their owners, setting my own schedule, and the fact that this is all mine. Every payment goes to me, not some faceless boss or someone else. Sure, there are expenses, and taxes, can’t escape those. But at the end of the day, my account is fuller and I’m happy.
Today is different. My thoughts constantly circle around to Grant, and I’m distracted. And working around unfamiliar dogs, you can’t afford to have your mind anywhere but firmly on what is happening.
So, I make a stupid mistake and clip a dewclaw too short, and the poor pup bleeds. All over my table. Then I spill the styptic powder and just want to cry. Thankfully, there is enough left in the container to stop the bleeding, but that means I need to make a supply run since I absolutely should have this on hand for the rare accidents that pop up.
But worse is the way the dog’s owner scowls at me when I relay what happened. I think I just lost a client.
After running to the pet store, I make it to my next scheduled client exactly on time, with my heart pounding painfully in my tight chest. I see Grant messaged me back, but can’t take the time to read it. I need to focus on my clients, not my love life.
The entire time I’m trimming and blow drying a Yorkie’s silky fur, that message icon taunts me. I know it’s there and I’m dying to know what he wrote.
Was last night as amazing for him as it was for me? And when can we do it again? The rest of my life sounds okay to me.
The yorkie yips and I nod my head in agreement. “Yep, I got it bad.”
Somehow, I hold on to my determination not to check that message until lunch.
When I see what he wrote, I squeal, right then and there in the parking lot of the closed bowling alley I pulled into to eat my lunch in peace.
Last night was perfect.
Me? Not hardly.
I have to admit I love him thinking I am.
Who am I kidding? I love him.
I agonize over a response, then just go for it.
BRITTANY: We are perfect. Dinner at my place tonight around 7?
His response comes almost instantly.
GRANT: Yes. I can’t wait to see you again.
Clutching the phone to my chest, I whirl around in the limited space in the mobile groomer. My sneakers tangle over each other and I trip, grabbing onto the table to keep myself from falling and dropping my phone in the process.
The phone is fine and all I can think of is, Shoot! What in the world am I going to make for him?
A fast glance at the phone tells me I don’t have the time to go to the grocery in between clients today, which means I’ll have to rush there the moment I’m done if I want to shower and prepare anything. What in the world was I thinking inviting him for dinner?! I’m a lousy cook. Hopefully Grant doesn’t mind instant everything.
