As much as I try to stop them, images of Colin begin to swim in my mind and my stomach churns with betrayal. This is always what happens when I think of him—which is why I rarely allow myself to.
My penchant for bringing home strays brought Colin into my life. I’d thought he was just down on his luck and needed someone to give him a chance. It turned out he needed someone to abuse. My chest tightens as the fear he left me with coils around my throat. I swear sometimes I can still feel his fingers there. The dogs begin to whine, pulling me from my phantom fear.
“I know,” I say, petting them as much to soothe myself as to comfort them.
I hate that I let one person destroy my faith in humanity, but I hate it even more that I let that person terrify my dogs. They deserve better.
We all do.
I sigh, wondering if maybe I’m just not destined to find love beyond my dogs.
I push the thought away almost as quickly as it forms. I’m too busy to worry about that right now. I turn on some music, crank up the volume, set my phone down and tug my shirt over my head. When it falls to the ground, a cloud of dog fur rises from it. Vacuuming is a daily chore for me. The battle against the fur is endless.
Facing myself in a mirror that needs to be cleaned, I run my fingers down tired, lean muscles. My body is toned and tanned from hours spent parading dogs up and down the busy streets of the city. I wash my face, removing the remnants of sunblock from earlier, hips swaying slightly to the pop song playing. Behind me, steam begins to roll up from the basin of the shower, fogging up the mirror.
Leaving the door open, I strip the rest of my clothes off and hop in.
The water surges around me, rinsing off the remaining grime of the day. I tip my head back, welcoming the flow of the water as I belt out the lyrics along with the song. My athletic legs ache just slightly from all the activity of the day and my arms are tired from the constant strain of the leashes but I can’t help but groove to the beat of the lively music. It’s my favorite way to destress.
From beyond the trill of the upbeat song and the thrum of the water hitting the shower floor, I hear Lola and Sadie bark. I stop singing and dancing, though I still lazily scrub at my body with my pink fluffy loofah, straining my ears to hear whether someone is knocking on the door.
The only person who would be knocking this late is my landlord, though I’d dropped my rent check off at his place this morning on my way out for my earliest dog walking appointment.
He never seemed to mind if I left it under his doormat before . . . Maybe he’d missed it? Oh hell, what if someone stole it?
Even though business was doing well, it wasn’t like I had a ton of money lying around to cover a missing rent check.
I strain my ears, listening. A feeling of unease begins to twist my insides as my mind jumps back to thoughts of Colin.
Calm down, I tell myself. Colin is in jail.
I’d pressed charges after the second time he’d hit me. My bruises and his prior record were enough to send him away, but that still didn’t stop my fear from running away with me.
After a few more minutes of barking, Lola and Sadie go quiet and I hurry to finish washing up. I’d only just lathered up my tea tree shampoo on my head when I heard the creak of the bathroom door followed by a voice—a man’s voice.
“Hello? Hello?”
The voice is deep and intimidating. My landlord, though a man, has a voice more high pitched than mine. I have no idea who this voice belongs to.
Panic cracks through me like a whip making me turn so quickly I lose my balance. My feet go sliding out from under me, sending me flying through my shower curtain. I grab at the wet curtain as I fall but that does nothing but cause the metal shower rod to crash down with me. Blinding by my shampoo, I army crawl over the floor and snag a nearby towel, wrapping it around me. Suds stings my eyes, making it hard to see but I don’t stop. I can’t. Not if it’s really him, coming back to finish what he started.
I try reasoning with myself. He’s in jail, Summer. You put him there. But the pounding of my heart makes it hard to hear my own thoughts. I use the towel to wipe the soap from my eyes as I scramble for any sort of weapon in my tiny bathroom. That’s when I notice the pair of polished black loafers standing just outside the doorway of the bathroom.
Colin never owned anything that expensive.
“Don’t come any closer!” I shout, wondering just where the hell my two guard dogs have disappeared to. My brain scrambles, trying to remember what I’m supposed to do in the event of a break-in. I have pepper spray but it’s in my purse. “I’ve already called the police, they’ll be here any second!”
“Somehow I doubt that,” the person answers in a husky voice. “But you do look like you could use some assistance.”
“What I need is for you to get the hell out of my house!” I squawk still trying to wipe my eyes while containing some level of modesty with my too-small towel.
“Listen, I’m sorry I startled you. I mean you no harm. A friend gave me your business card and I tried calling but you didn’t answer and I really need to talk to you.”
I glare at him now, though I can barely see through my soap-stung eyes, “I didn’t answer my phone so you decided to just show up and walk right into my house?”
“It’s an emergency. I need your help. My dog needs your help.”
The word dog catches my attention but does little to calm my temper. I point a single finger away from me. “Go out there. Sit down and put your hands where I can see them.”
He nods and through my blurry eyes I swear I can see him smirking before he easily strides back to the living room. I can hear Sadie and Lola sniffling and trotting around, inspecting the intruder. Some guard dogs they are! I guess I’m going to have to keep that in mind if I ever do have someone try to break into my place someday. My dogs are just too friendly for their own good.
Slamming the bathroom door shut, I climb slowly to my feet and jump back in the shower just long enough to rinse off the remaining soap. I run my palms over my sore knees hoping they won’t bruise. Then I climb back out of the shower, dry myself off and dart from the bathroom to my bedroom to pull on clean clothes.
A few minutes later, I’m standing impatiently in my living room, pepper spray in hand as I furiously glare at one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen in my life. He leans back against the couch, one ankle crossed over his knee. He’s wearing a suit that fits him perfectly and shoes so polished that I can see my own reflection in them. One of his hands rests atop the beast beside him. The Husky is still as a statue, large and gray and quiet. The dog’s ears are pinned against the back of his head.
“Now explain why I shouldn’t call the police,” I demand furiously.
Chapter 3
Cooper
I climb to my feet, earning a wary glance from Rosco as I walk over to the woman and stick out my hand.
“You’re Summer Young, right?” I ask holding up the business card matching this address. “My name is Cooper Townsend, and this is Rosco. I was hoping you’d be willing to watch him for the weekend.”
She blinks once, then twice, her jaw dropping. Her long hair, still slick from the shower, clings to her cheeks and drips water down the front of her oversized blue t-shirt. The shirt hangs down to the middle of her thighs, just barely concealing the hem of a pair of very stretchy, very tiny shorts that give way to tan legs.