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I arched an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”
“I’m reporting for duty…like doody…like the poop situation you’re dealing with. It’s just funny.”
“Nothing about this situation is funny.”
“There is. You’re just not spotting the humor.”
Before I could say anything else, Feliz began barking and whimpering from my guest room. Yara’s eyes moved in the direction of his noise, and her shoulders dropped. She sighed as her eyes softened to the realm of compassion. “Poor baby. Let me handle Feliz. I’ll use your guest bathroom to get him cleaned up.”
“Down the hall to the left. It’s right across from the guest room, where he is situated.”
She nodded in understanding and started in that direction.
I followed her footsteps, and she turned quickly and held a hand up toward me. “Oh, no, no, no. You can’t be involved with this now. Feliz is already stressed out, and he doesn’t need”—she waved her hands around at me with a look of disgust—“this.”
“What do you mean by”—I narrowed my eyes and dramatically waved my hands toward myself—“this?”
“You. Your energy. I don’t know if you know this, but sometimes you have some of the worst energy about you. You can head out for the day and run errands if you’d like.”
My brows knitted toward one another. The idea of being able to go down to the restaurant and check on things was somewhat tempting. Along with getting out of the smelly house.
“I have to work later tonight than normal, too. I have to catch up on some things with my other restaurants and stop in Chicago. Is that okay?”
“I charge by the hour,” she semi-joked. “Besides, poor Feliz could probably use a good spa day with me after his travels. Get going. I’ll take him in to work with me for the day, then bring him back here if you leave me a key. We’ll be here when you make it back home.”
“Sounds good. I’m going to shower fast and get going. Anything in the house is free for you to use. The television, anything in the kitchen… by all means, have at it.”
Then she smiled, and it was beautiful. Everything about her was sort of beautiful, even her sassy attitude. I found myself taking her in a lot more each time I crossed paths with her.
That morning, she wore a crop top with oversized black sweatpants that hugged her hips. I struggled a little to pull my stare away from those hips. Unfortunately, when I did manage to look away, my eyes found her lips.
They were full and plump, and whenever they curved up into a smile, I almost felt the urge to kiss her.
If I had agreed to a fake relationship, would there have been fake kissing?
It didn’t matter.
We weren’t doing it.
Still.
I wondered.
I got out of her way and let her handle getting Feliz into the bathroom to wash him up. I didn’t know how she’d manage to get him to trust her enough to give him a bath, but I supposed that was between her and Feliz. She was the dog whisperer, after all, not me.
I headed to the bathroom in my bedroom and shut the door. Hopefully, a shower would wake me up and make me less of a grouch for the rest of the day.
CHAPTER 21
Yara
I was the official dog whisperer for Alex Ramírez.
You know, the person I claimed to hate a few days ago.
It was funny how life turned around so drastically in such a short period.
Alex did have a few good things going for him that I found hard to overlook. One, he was an amazing chef. The bone-shaped cookies he’d made were remarkable, too. Josh could never make cookies that tasty. As far as apologies went, that was top-tier.
Two, he was easy on the eyes. I didn’t completely hate looking at him even though I tried to convince myself otherwise. Alex’s attractiveness ran rampant, especially when he wasn’t being rude.
And last, three, he had a dog. It was a scientific fact that men with dogs were better than those without. It added bonus points to their whole existence. Did Alex want a dog? No. Probably not. But he kept Feliz when he did have the option of surrendering him to a shelter. Instead, he came to me for help.
Deep down, there had to be a part that didn’t hate the idea of Feliz being around. I felt lonely when Cocoa was with Cole. I couldn’t imagine the loneliness Alex felt with always being on his own.
Besides, Feliz was a good boy. He’d simply had a rough few days.
I’d be pooping my pants, too, and barking up a storm nonstop if I was sent to live with a stranger. Oftentimes, humans forgot that we weren’t the only creatures who experienced fear and sadness.
At least we, humans, were able to communicate our feelings with words. All Feliz could do was whimper and cry, which he’d began to do once his aggression subsided and I placed him in the bathtub.
