Page 10 of Doggy Style

Yessi

My hand shakes as I reach for my keys. What on earth just happened?

One minute, I was handcuffed to the door of Preston’s puppy store, and next thing I know, he’s offered to foster a dog for me. Now we’re on our way to pick her up.

Why did he volunteer to help me? This is a guy who’s about to sell puppies for a living, and now he’s going to foster an old Chihuahua? He has to have an ulterior motive. If he thinks I’ll stop protesting his pet store, he’s dead wrong. I’m not going to back off. I’ll still be there every day.

And that way, I can still look at him.

What? Don’t judge me. I’m a hot-blooded American woman.

Dammit—why does he have to be so ridiculously hot? I mean, everything about him is perfection. His tousled dark hair is shiny, his skin is tanned, his arms are ripped and covered with tattoos. Decent tattoos, too. Hell, I’d love to ink him up myself. Maybe I’ll tattoo my name on his ass.

Stop lusting after him, Yessi. He’s the enemy!

I take a calming breath and think about all the dogs who will die as a direct result of his pet store. Rage pulses through my veins.

Okay. Back to hating him.

Preston places his hand on my wrist, and his touch immediately causes my heart to beat faster. “Let’s take my truck.”

“No. We can go in my car.”

He thankfully doesn’t argue, and I walk in front of him, taking the lead. But when we reach my car, I look in and frown at the seats, which are covered in dog hair and stained with dry vomit.

“On second thought, we can go in your car.”

He smiles, and I notice his dimples. Dimples. Drown-your-heart-in-the-ocean dimples, which highlight a movie-star smile. They’re unreal.

“Sounds like a plan. I’m parked up the block.”

He leads me toward a side street. A group of ladies on the sidewalk is walking toward us, and they all simultaneously giggle when they see him, not that I can blame them. Like I said, dude is hot.

But Preston doesn’t even seem to notice them. Instead, he places his hand on the small of my back, and I don’t even feel the urge to swat away his hand. In fact, it’s quite the opposite—I enjoy his touch, despite myself.

One of the girls squints at him as she gets closer to us. “Oh my god, you’re Preston Evans! Hi! I’m Gigi. Can I take a selfie with you?” Preston flashes her that Megawatt smile of his, and I feel a twinge of jealousy.

“Nice to meet you, Gigi. It would be my pleasure.”

I step away so his fans can fawn over him, but he pulls me to his side, and I end up in the damn picture with them.

Great. I pray I don’t get tagged in that photo, not that any of Preston’s groupies would recognize me. But if a rescuer sees that picture, I’ll lose my street cred.

“Ladies, I’m holding a grand opening in two weeks for my pet store, Doggy Style. I would love for you all to join us.”

I quickly shrug his arm off of me. “Us? There is no ‘us.’ I’ll be outside protesting.” I speak directly to the women. “If you all want a dog, I run a rescue called Pugs N Roses. We have plenty of amazing dogs who need homes.”

The girls completely ignore me. Maybe I’m invisible.

“We’ll be there for sure! Nice to meet you, Preston.”

“Good night, ladies.” Preston continues walking down the sidewalk, and I reluctantly follow him.

Remember, you’re doing this for Gidget. You don’t have to like him.

“Does that ever annoy you?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, not when they’re sweet. Sometimes, if they’re really drunk, I get annoyed. But I’m just grateful to have fans. They have given me the opportunity to support myself. After I got out of the Corps, I was a little lost.”