“Excuse me?” she asks, sounding as though she’s either trying not to hysterically laugh, scream, or punch me. “You break into my house and want me to watch your dog?”
“I didn’t break in. I knocked and the door swung right open. You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked like that. It’s dangerous.”
It’s not like I don’t see her point about me strolling inside her house, but her living space is so tiny that I didn't realize I’d even left the living room until I almost fell into her bathroom. It’s not like I’m trying to be nosy on purpose. I couldn’t even hear the shower running over the loud sound of her music.
She actually does burst into laughter this time, her slender arms folding over her chest. The thin cotton of her oversized shirt clings to curves. My eyes wander down her body before returning to her face. She’s gorgeous despite her fury.
“It’s dangerous?” she hisses, eyes blazing. “You, the one who just walked into my house like it belongs to you, are telling me that it’s dangerous?”
Even though she’s furious with me, I can’t help but smile. Inner flames churn in her eyes, fanning me with their warmth. Most people know my status and position and wouldn’t dream of speaking to me in such a way, but this woman right here doesn’t care about that at all. And I kind of like it. It doesn’t hurt that she’s beautiful.
“I wouldn’t have walked in if the door was locked or even closed all the way. I would’ve just stood there banging on the door for an hour. But it did open and I did step in. I’m sorry for walking in on you. It was an accident.”
An accident that I certainly wouldn’t be regretting any time soon.
Her caramel hued body, gleaming with water would remain on the backs of my eyelids every time I blinked for a very long time.
She rolls her eyes, glancing toward the door. I’d shut it after I walked in, not wanting Rosco or her dogs to escape. Though her wariness has faded and been replaced with ire, she still seems uncomfortable with having a stranger in her home unexpectedly. I should probably take my leave sooner rather than later.
“Fine. But don’t go walking into people’s houses. It’s not cool. Got it?”
I nod quickly, again apologizing. This time she sighs and shrugs, which I think is a gesture of forgiveness. “Now, I have to get back to work. Can you watch him for me, Summer?”
The name fits her sun-kissed hair and bronzed skin, probably earned from long hours spent outside. Even her dark brown eyes have golden flecks in them that remind me of warm beach sand. It’s been a time since I was able to stand with my feet in the bay, cold water licking at my toes.
When would I ever have time to do that again?
Rosco had loved the beach the one time I took him, darting up and down the dunes and barking as loudly as he could. I’d never seen him happier.
“How did you get my card?” she asks, arms still folded hard against her chest.
“My neighbor gave it to me. It has all your info on it. I find it almost hard to believe that I’m the first one to show up here.”
“Most people call first,” she retorts, eyes narrowed. “In fact, all people do. Except for those without manners or tact I suppose.”
“Actually, if you ever bothered to check your phone, you’ll see that I did call, about a dozen times.” I grin at her, shrugging. “Anyway, Mrs. Donnell is the woman who watched Rosco for me before. She recommended you highly, and her endorsement is one that I value when it comes to my dog.”
The woman’s face immediately softens, her lower lip sucked under her white front teeth. “Mrs. Donnell is your neighbor?”
“Yes.
“So, you live in that big apartment building on 5th?”
Chin bobbing, I fish out the card and hold it up. Mrs. Donnell’s handwriting is scrawled on the side of the card, noting the number where I could reach her out of town. “She’s having a family emergency and has to go out of state for a while. She doesn’t know when, or if, she’ll be back. I don’t trust Rosco with just anyone, but she said you’re the best and I really do have to return to my office.”
Summer sighs and snatches the card, inspecting the swirling handwriting before handing it back. “Mrs. Donnell was a high school teacher of mine. That feels like forever ago. I didn’t know she still thought of me.”
“I guess she does.”
Summer frowns thoughtfully up at me and then at Rosco. The Husky has been sitting perfectly still, his eyes alert and his tail low. The two other dogs have sniffed him a few times, but now sit across the living room quietly observing the strange new beast in their home.
“Listen, Cooper, I hear you and I can tell that you need a sitter for your pal here but I have a certain way of operating my business and this is not it.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, resisting the urge to check my watch.
Precious minutes are passing by and with each one, I can feel my work pile growing larger and larger. At this rate, I probably won’t be out of the office until four in the morning only to return by seven. Maybe I should just sleep in the building if I can. The city streets aren’t the safest to be milling about in the twilight hours.
“Well, first of all, I never would’ve allowed you to just waltz your dog right into my house! What if he and Sadie and Lola hadn’t gotten along? What would you’ve done then?”
Again I see her point, but shrug anyway. “All right. Fair enough. That was an oversight on my part but look at them, they’re fine.”
Summer glances over her shoulder, lifting her brows just slightly at the ample distance between the dogs and the uncertain way they’re all regarding one another. She shakes her head and lets her arms fall so her hands rest stubbornly on her hips. My chest puffs reactively, meeting her defensive stance and readying myself for an argument. I don’t have a choice but to stand my ground for Rosco’s sake.
“Second of all,” Summer continues in her melodic but deliberate tone, “I don’t know anything about Rosco. I never offer to watch a dog in my own home until I have detailed reports of his health, last vet visit, and I’ve done an interview with both him and the owner.”
“Rosco goes to the vet on First Street. You can call for the records—”
“It’s almost eight o’clock at night, they’re not open! They won’t be open tomorrow either. I won’t be able to contact them until Monday.”
“I promise you he has zero health issues or allergies. Rosco is as healthy as a horse. I even brought some of his food if you want it. And why would you need to interview him? What the hell does that even mean? You know dogs can’t talk, right? Do you think you’re some kind of dog whisperer?”
“It’s not a real interview,” she explains with a roll of her eyes. “It’s just to make sure that he isn’t aggressive toward me. I would just pet him, get to know him a little, walk him around and see how he connects with me. And for the interview with you, it would just be about his habits and fears and background.”
“Rosco is afraid of most things, but he’s a good boy. He went through a lot before I adopted him, but he’s never so much as bared his teeth at anyone.” I glance at my watch, flinching at the hour. She’s right, it’s almost eight.