Page 8 of Doggy Style

But it won’t be easy to get her to agree to help me. I mean, why should she? She’s clearly appalled by my existence.

She has to have some Achilles’ heel that I can use to get her to help me out.

I recheck Instagram, this time heading to her rescue page. A picture of a sorry-looking Chihuahua with a pink collar is right at the top.

Bingo.

I follow her and her rescue on Instagram, and then I put my phone back in my pocket. “I changed my mind about dinner.”

She exhales loudly. I think I see a flash of disappointment cross her face but a second later it’s gone without a trace, making me wonder if I imagined it. “Good. I didn’t want to go anyway.”

“What are you going to do about that dog you posted earlier on your rescue page? The Chihuahua?”

Her lips tremble, and her voice softens. “I don’t know. You should’ve seen her owner. He didn’t care at all that she was going to die. I don’t have anywhere to place her.” She looks at the ground and halfheartedly kicks some rocks on the sidewalk.

I smile.

This is almost too easy. “I’ll take her.”

“What?” Yessi’s head whips up, her dark gaze pinning me in place.

“I said, I’ll take her. She can stay at the store. I’ll get her ready for the grand opening. You can adopt her out at our store.”

“Are you serious?” She sounds hopeful but is eyeing me cautiously. “Do you even have any dogs of your own? I’ve never seen any on your Instagram.”

I love that she knows what I post on Instagram. That means I have a chance. “Yes, I’m serious. And no, I don’t have any dogs of my own. Not yet. But I do want to help out this dog. Where is she?”

“She’s still with her owner. Actually, I’m freaking out about it. He was completely wasted—I’m afraid he’s going to dump her tonight at the shelter’s night drop.”

Night drop? For animals? Is that a thing? Pets, discarded like trash? Maybe she’s exaggerating. The thought of dogs and cats, abandoned, locked in cages in some cold, abandoned building creeps into my mind, but I push it out of my head.

I place my hand on Yessi’s back. “Let’s go get her.” Yessi stares at my hand, but at least she doesn’t flinch this time. I’m making progress with her.

“You want to come with me to pick her up? That’s not necessary. I’m sure you have a hot date planned. It is Saturday night.”

I’d love to have a date tonight—with her. “No, actually I don’t. I’d like to spend more time with you.”

She purses her lips. “If you’re really serious about fostering her, I can go get her now and bring her to you, but I don’t need you to accompany me.”

Unbelievable—she doesn’t even want me to go with her to pick up a dog I’ll be fostering. “You just told me that her owner cares so little about her that he might dump her in the night drop. And he was wasted. A guy like that can’t be trusted to do the right thing. You’re gorgeous—he could rape you. Do you normally drive alone at night to meet up with strange men and rescue dogs?”

She nods her head. “Yup.”

I shake mine. “Well, if I’m fostering this dog, I’m going with you to get her.”

“Are you listening to me? I already told you that’s not necessary. Besides, you’re just as much of a stranger to me as her owner is. For all I know, you could be a serial killer.”

Well, that’s a first. I lower my voice and stare into her eyes. “You know I’m not a serial killer. I’m a highly decorated former Marine. Earlier you said you know all about me, and I noticed you follow me on Instagram. You even knew that I didn’t have a dog. Are you in the habit of following serial killers online? Believe it or not, I’m a gentleman. I’m not going to take advantage of you.” Unless you want me to.

“Fine, you really want to foster her? I would prefer for her to stay at your place instead of the store, but because I’m desperate, your store will do if that’s my only option. Only temporarily though until I find a full-time foster willing to take her. It’s better for the dog to be placed in a home setting so the foster can get the dog ready for adoption.”

“Well, then she can stay at my place.”

She exhales, and her shoulders relax. “You’ll need to fill out a foster application, and I’m going to have to do a home check to make sure she’ll be safe. I need to see if you have a secure fence, and, if you have a pool that there’s a gate.”

I smirk. “I guess that answers the question, ‘Your place or mine.’”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m not amused.”