Page 21 of Doggy Style

Yessi

Though my nerves still rattle inside me, I feel calmer than I thought I would. I was blown away by how amazing the kennels looked in the store.

And Preston. I couldn’t help legit drooling when I saw him, standing there shirtless, sweat dripping down his incredible chest. His scent was masculine and woodsy. But I was even more impressed that he’d been cleaning the kennels himself. I never pictured someone as seemingly rich and successful as him getting his hands dirty.

And I definitely couldn’t help myself from getting wet when he placed Gidget in that dress. Swoon.

As the limo leaves the store, I try to keep my eyes glued outside the window, toward the ocean. After a minute or two I glance over, and he’s checking his phone, a smile on his face.

For the millionth time, I ask myself what I’m doing here. Why did he ask me to go with him? Because I’m a challenge? A small part of me hopes it’s more than that. A part I don’t want to listen to.

But ultimately it doesn’t matter. No matter how hot he is, I can’t get involved with him. I won’t. I won’t. Even if he honors his pledge and turns Doggy Style into an adoption store, I already know we’re too different. He’s outgoing—I’m a hermit. He uses Instagram to promote himself—I use it to save lives. He angles his body toward mine when he sees me looking at him, and I wonder what he’s about to say.

“So, how long have you been a tattoo artist? I looked at your work on Instagram. You’re pretty talented.”

I sigh. I don’t want to open up to him, but we’re about to be trapped in a steel tube for six hours as we fly over the ocean. I can’t avoid speaking to him for that long. So, instead, I vow to be polite, but distant. “Four years. I used to draw all the time when I was younger.” In my foster home.

“That’s cool. Maybe you can give me a new tattoo sometime. I can always use more ink.”

Nope. Not going to happen. He’s trying to find a connection with me. I can’t risk falling for this guy. The thought suddenly crosses my mind that maybe he invited me as some type of joke or bet, like one of those cheesy romantic comedies where his buddy bet him he couldn’t fuck the deranged, tattooed, animal rescuer who was chained to his store. I have to remember I just met him literally two days ago and can’t let my guard down.

“I don’t think so, Preston. Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, but I’m not interested. We both know you’re hot. I’m not going to lie and say I’m not attracted to you, but I’m definitely not interested in taking this further. I’m here solely because I need you to stop selling puppies. And I’m grateful that you’re hosting our dogs at your store on opening day, but I’d prefer to keep our interactions professional.”

He smirks. “Fine, professional it is. So tell me, Miss Cordova, what would you like to do on our business trip to the Aloha State?”

I glower at him. I still think he’s playing me if that look on his face is any indication. “As promised, I’ll go with you to the pet expo. I want you to attend the rescue summit as well. And one day when we have time, I’d like to tour the Hawaiian Humane Society with you so you can learn more about animal shelters. I’ll agree to have certain meals with you where I can teach you more about animal rescue. But I’d like my evenings to myself.” I packed a book, The Shark Dialogues by Kiana Davenport. I was assigned it in high school but never bothered to read it. I had always promised myself if I ever made it to Hawai’i I’d read it. It’s supposed to be this incredible, epic family saga about Hawai’i. Maybe I’ll also spend some time sketching.

But most importantly, I just want to relax. To me, that means sleeping in without waking up five times a night to give eye drops to my foster dogs, or turning off my phone and disconnecting completely. I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t checking my email constantly to get the daily euthanasia lists from the shelters or answering calls from flaky fosters who, at the last minute, changed their minds and dumped the dogs at my house. I would love to leave the cleaning to someone else for a change instead of scrubbing my apartment daily due to my failed efforts housebreaking a dog who had spent his entire life outside. A week to try to find peace before I go back to my crazy life.

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll see what I can do, though I have tickets to a concert at a club downtown—my buddy is playing there in a few nights. I’d like you to go with me.”

Sounds like a date. “Your buddy? Did you grow up in Hawai’i? Oh wait, you were stationed there, right?” God, I’m such a dork. I’m legit quoting his Wikipedia page. He must think I’m so pathetic.

His lips widen into a smile. “I thought you wanted to keep this professional? Where did you grow up?”

Dammit. He’s right. Those were my words. But I already know he doesn’t want the answer to where I grew up, not that I want to share. Everywhere. Nowhere. “I do want to keep things professional. The club sounds fine.” I hate myself right now. I can’t even pull off the cool, detached vibe. He must know how attracted I am to him. I need to try and be more aloof.

Yet, he seems so calm, so cool. Not remotely annoyed by my hesitation or my rules. Patient. Have I misjudged him? It wouldn’t be the first time I wrote someone off before I got to know them.

The limo pulls up at the airport, and he exits from his side. I grab my purse as I see the limo driver hop out and approach me, but instead, Preston opens my door.

“Thank you,” I offer politely.

He walks toward the back of the limo and hoists my luggage out of the trunk. I attempt to take my bag from him, but he resists. “I got it.”

Ugh. I’m doomed.

“No. I’ll carry it myself.” I snatch it from him.

But if I thought his chivalrousness would be the most awkward part of this trip, I soon learn I’m dead wrong. A few steps into the terminal and a bright light goes off, blinding me.

What the hell?

A sexy blonde reporter in a miniskirt shoves a microphone in Preston’s face. “Preston! Preston, is this your new girlfriend?”

Preston puts his arm around me, and I don’t push it away as I blink rapidly, trying to regain my vision. I even melt a little in his firm grip. He draws me close and whispers into my ear.

“Don’t say anything. Just keep your head down and keep walking. They can’t harass us once we pass security.”