27. Sweet Leg Love
SWEET LEG LOVE
CHLOE
I knew Veronica was in town since she’s shooting a cameo on Happily Maybe After, and sure, I told her she could stop by anytime. But people don’t always take you seriously when you say that.
Evidently, she did.
She’s rolling her lips together and grimacing, all frantic energy with her big sunglasses still on—even though the sun’s dipping behind the hills. I hope Shortcake is okay. I hope she’s okay. I yank the door open.
“What’s going on?”
She flaps her hands, and I’m almost distracted by her new manicure—delicate flower illustrations cover her shiny white nails.
“Shortcake…my boyfriend…me,” she stammers, barely able to get the words out.
“Did he knock him into a lake?” I ask, cutting to the chase.
Veronica snaps her head toward Sawyer, standing behind me in the doorway, apparently just now noticing him. They met the other night, when Shortcake was a background actor.
“Hey there,” Sawyer says with a nod, then glances at me, silently offering to retreat to the living room.
“Come in,” I say to my distraught client, then usher her inside. Sawyer shuts the door, glancing at the sleek hot-pink car in the driveway. Shortcake, all one hundred and forty pounds of him, sits in the backseat, staring out the car window like he’s planning his next move.
“‘Dog style’ is on. That’s what the carmaker calls it,” Veronica explains. “It’s set to sixty-nine degrees.”
“The carmaker has a good sense of humor,” Sawyer adds.
“And perhaps a mixed sense of metaphors,” I add.
“That’s true too,” Veronica says, then pauses in the foyer, waving her hand in front of her face and taking a calming breath.
“Okay, talk to me,” I say.
“I started seeing someone recently—it happened fast, he swept me off my feet. But now, every time Javier comes over…” She winces. “Shortcake tries to hump my leg. Not even his leg—mine.”
I nod, taking it in. “And it only happens when Javier’s there?”
“Yes. And now my new love life is practically a disaster! It’s like Shortcake is jealous, maybe? Or he’s trying to show Javier he’s the OG boyfriend? Like…he’s out-manning him?”
“All good observations,” I say, mentally flipping through solutions. “But to me, it sounds more like insecurity.”
Her brow knits, and Sawyer watches me with avid interest, maybe even pride.
“It sounds like your dog thinks Javier is trying to replace him. So he’s…nervous. And a little possessive.”
Veronica’s eyes widen. “Oh. He’s…clingy, you mean?”
“Exactly,” I say. “But we can work with this. I can’t promise a total fix in an hour, but I can show you how to start reshaping his reaction.”
“I hope so,” she says. “Javier is such a sweetheart. I hope Shortcake can get past this.”
I glance at the wall clock, a retro illustration of two girlfriends clinking wineglasses and the words It’s Wine O’Clock Somewhere on it. A plan forms. “Can we go to your house right now?”
“Of course.”
But I need Sawyer too. I spin toward him. “What time is your dinner?”
“I’ve got an hour and fifteen,” he says, and he’s in all-business mode now, especially when he says, “How can I help?”
My heart does a little waltz at his willingness. “Perfect.”
Veronica beams. “Are you sure?”
It’s kind of adorable that she’s asking me if I’m sure—when she showed up at my house at seven-fifteen at night.
“I’m sure,” I say. “We’ll follow you,” I add, already moving.
No time to ask Sawyer what the hell we’re doing in the middle of this dog training emergency—because we’re hustling to my car seconds later.
“Who’s the real efficiency expert now?” he asks as he opens my door, his tone laced with…innuendo.
“This woman,” I say, hopping in.
“And it’s hot,” he whispers, and so much for innuendo. He’s clear.
When he slides into the passenger seat, he gives me a look like he really wants to fuck me again.
It’s a very good look.
When I turn on the car, I say, “Thanks for doing this. I appreciate it.”
His gaze holds mine and his eyes flash with warmth, something deeper than desire. “Like I said, I can’t stay away from you.”
My heart flips.
“And you owe me, Chloe. Ducks. You’ve got to juggle those ducks. For me.”
The organ in my chest flips yet again.
But I can’t get caught up in this feeling—not when I’m apparently the head of the emergency department in Darling Springs. From community theater chaos to dog drama, Chloe Rivers is the one to call.
Who would’ve thought the hot mess would be the problem solver?
* * *
“Shortcake needs to see you interact with another man safely and calmly. I want him to see that affection toward you doesn’t mean he’s losing you,” I explain in the living room of Veronica’s disgustingly adorable bungalow.
I feel like I’ve stepped into an Easter egg. Everything is mint green, robin’s-egg blue, and Barbie pink—from the couch to the chair to the pillows. The artwork is all serene line drawings of beaches, oceans, and mountains. A few scattered dog beds cover the floor.
“Okay,” Veronica says, focusing intensely on me.
I turn to Sawyer. “I want you to pretend to be her date while I watch and see how Shortcake reacts.”
Sawyer blinks. Furrows his brow. He’s not normally thrown off, but he clearly is now. “Okay, and that means?”
“I want you to knock on the door and come inside. Maybe even hug Veronica, if that’s okay?” I say, asking the two of them.
“Of course,” Veronica says.
“Sure,” Sawyer says, but he sounds a little stiff. Looks that way too. But he’s probably not used to dog lessons.
I open the door and shoo Sawyer outside. “Knock in ten seconds. And open the door like you normally would. I want to see his behavior.”
And right on cue, Sawyer knocks, Veronica swings it open, and seconds later, when his arms wrap around her, two things happen—Shortcake lunges at Veronica and tries to make sweet love to her calf and her thigh, and I become Gollum.
Gollum is me, and the word mine flashes bright and hot before my eyes.
But I am a damn good dog trainer, so I breathe out hard, let the jealousy go as best I can, then say, “Thanks, that’ll be enough.”
Oops. Did that sound snappish?
Hopefully they didn’t notice.
They break apart, and Shortcake dismounts as well as an Olympian. Gollum slinks away.
“Okay. He’s definitely staking his claim on you,” I say to Veronica, focusing on them now and ignoring this raging fire in my chest. “He might think he’s being replaced, so what we want to do is create a new greeting ritual.
I want you to have treats ready. And as soon as Sawyer is about to hug you or kiss you,” I say, and my eye twitches at the thought, “you give Shortcake a treat and tell him to wait. Then you hug Sawyer,” I explain, and the twitching, it intensifies, starts again annoyingly.
“And give Shortcake the treat. The goal is positive reinforcement for him not humping, but to get him to do that, you need to essentially reward him with a treat before Sawyer hugs you. It’s like a pre-ward for not humping. ”
Veronica furrows her brow. “Okay, like, I get it, but can you show me first?”
“I would love to,” I say at the same time Sawyer says, “Good idea.”
I prep a treat, breaking off a chunk of a dog beef jerky, and we send Sawyer outside again.
He knocks, and Veronica lets him inside.
Shortcake swings his snout from Sawyer to Veronica, waiting carefully to make his mark.
But this time Sawyer advances toward me, and I toss Shortcake a treat.
He snarfs it down as Sawyer wraps his arms around me, and the smell of him—clean soap and cinnamon bodywash, my bodywash—sends a naughty zing through me as I remember our shower. And why we took one.
I can’t let it distract me, though, because I need to offer another treat. I toss one to the dog. He inhales it as I inhale Sawyer. Then one more treat, and I try—I swear I try—not to sigh or moan or murmur.
But when Sawyer slides a hand down my back, I gasp. The sound sends me scurrying apart from him. I try to shake off the fog of lust. “Just like that,” I say, but my voice still sounds…raspy.
Sawyer looks…a little hot under the collar.
Veronica lifts a brow, maybe in question, but then says, “Okay, should we try again?”
“Great idea,” I say brightly, like my cheer can cover up the lust I’m fighting off.
How can I be lusting this hard after he just made me come twice in an hour?
Who knows, but stranger things have happened.
They go through the motions once more, Sawyer heading outside, then knocking. Once he comes inside, Veronica tosses the dog a treat, and he wolfs it down as Sawyer reaches to hug her. Shortcake makes a move toward Veronica’s leg, but she’s a quick study, so she flings another treat the dog’s way.
“Good, keep doing it,” I say, fighting off the wave of jealousy I’m feeling as they hug.
Maybe Shortcake should throw me treats so I don’t jump Sawyer when Veronica hugs him.
* * *
We work through the routine a few more times, and somehow I survive without transforming into a full-blown dragon.
I guess miracles do happen. As we’re wrapping up, Veronica thanks me profusely, then Sawyer, then goes quiet but curious, her pretty eyes darting from Sawyer to me and back.
“I’m a little bit like my character on Upper East Siders.
I’m pretty good at reading people, and I’m picking up on a vibe between you two. ”
She sounds delighted with her own observation, but she’s not the first person to say that.
Esmeralda mentioned it a few weeks ago. I denied it then.
It’s harder to deny it now, and I’m not sure I want to.
But if Sawyer and I haven’t figured out what we are, I’m not going to hash it out in front of a client.
I should say something evasive, but Sawyer steps in, nodding to me.
“That’s because she’s my dance partner. For the fundraiser.
We just did a dance lesson tonight, and we had to get real close.
I’m a terrible dancer. But Chloe’s great.
And we have a lot more dance lessons to do.
Dancing makes you…” He pauses and looks to me, hunger in his eyes. “Closer.”
And just like that, he handles the awkward while covering for me.
When we leave, we head back to my car again so I can take him to the studio to get his car. Roxie’s chugging along like she needs a long nap. I chatter on about the things I need to fix in Roxie.
“Chloe,” he says, interrupting, his tone heavy, and maybe this is where he’ll say we shouldn’t do that again, and my heart lurches. I didn’t realize till now precisely how much I don’t want him to say that.
“Yes?” I ask, all chipper.
“I figured you’d want me to keep our secret.”
Our secret.
It feels like we have a lot of them, even as we dance in public. “I do,” I admit.
“I’ll keep it then,” he says, sounding solemn and vulnerable all at once. When we reach the dance studio, I park the car. He scans the lot, and when he confirms the coast is clear, he grabs my face. “You’re so fucking sexy when you’re jealous.”
“Shut up,” I mutter.
“I’ll shut you up,” he says, then he crushes my mouth with a hot, possessive kiss that ends too soon.
But I grab his collar. “You didn’t want to hug her. That’s why you were all stiff and awkward at first.”
His eyes darken, and he’s quiet for a beat. The air feels charged once more in the silence till he says, “I think you should know I’d much rather practice with you.”
He leaves, and I watch him go, wishing I knew what would happen next with us—even though I shouldn’t want anything to.