28. Dirty Deeds
DIRTY DEEDS
CHLOE
Answers don’t come the next day. There’s no time at work. Not that I’d ask Sawyer anything at Dog Tails. What would I even say to him? I want to bang you again?
You want more than that.
I’m too busy working with new clients. I took Sawyer up on his offer, and as soon as Captain scampers off into the daycare to hang out with his ten new best friends, I say hello to my first client of the day.
A woman named Lauren who booked me for her grumpy Chihuahua after learning I was working on the show.
We get to work on the spicy old boy, and if anyone tries to tell you big dogs are scarier than little ones, they’ve never met a grouchy Chihuahua.
But spicy pups are one of my specialties, so I help her with some management skills for the tooth-baring tiny dog.
When I say goodbye to the client after an hour, I peer over the counter at the daycare play area.
I’m not looking for Sawyer; I’m checking out Captain.
I find Sawyer anyway though. He’s trying to get Captain’s attention, waving to my dog, who’s running in circles with…
something in his mouth. “You stole my tie from my office,” Sawyer says to Captain.
Oh shit. My dog is supposed to do better than that. But he’s cavorting around the daycare with an emerald-green tie in his possession—a new prize. I swing open the gate, whistle, and say, “Captain, bring it.”
My boy jerks his snout to me, then trots over gamely, dropping the tie in my outstretched hand. He backs up and waits with a waggly tail. Like he was a good boy to listen to the command.
Shaking my head, I take the silky neckwear, give him a stern look, then point to the corner. “Go sit in the corner.”
With his head hanging, he heads to the corner, knowing he was naughty to take the tie.
“I’ll get this cleaned for you,” I say to Sawyer, apologetic.
Before he can answer, Levi calls out from one of the tubs, where he’s bathing a Bichon. “Hey, Captain. Can you take my sneakers? I need those cleaned too.”
“Oh, Captain, my headband needs a refresh,” Hazel says from her spot tossing rope toys to the pack.
“Captain, take my sandwich. I want a better one,” Zuri says as she toggles her mouse at the front counter computer.
“Don’t tempt him, especially with the sandwich,” I say, then return to the gate, waving the tie Sawyer’s way. I really want to make this up to him. “Really, I’ll have this washed.”
“Thanks,” he says evenly. “But it’s all good.”
As he scrubs nontoxic, cruelty-free shampoo into the white dog’s fur, Levi shakes his head, too amused. “Boss man, does nothing faze you?”
“A dog stealing my tie certainly doesn’t,” Sawyer retorts.
“Remember the other day? When a client was freaking out about whether her dog left his favorite lovey here?” Hazel recounts, and I must have missed that moment.
“Yep! And Sawyer was like we’ll find his stuffed bear for you,” Levi puts in.
“And he did,” Zuri says proudly. “Found that lovey hidden in the back of a dog cubby.”
Sawyer just shrugs and scratches his jaw. “It’s the job.”
He’s so unflappable. It’s kind of hot. I’m enjoying watching him handle everything with so much chill. Even when Levi clears his throat and says, “Will you wear a tie at the fundraiser?”
Oh. Sawyer must have told them. I wonder how that went.
Sawyer meets Levi’s gaze straight on. “I haven’t decided yet. But glad you read the email about the fundraiser.” And that answers that—he emailed his staff. That’s so very him.
“I read email occasionally,” Levi says dryly.
“Good. Don’t forget we’re staying open that night to help with any performers or attendees who want dog daycare.”
Levi gives a crisp nod. “Yes, Mr. Sinatra.”
“Ooh, will Mr. Sinatra wear the green tie?” Hazel asks.
Sawyer gives a light laugh. “We’ll see.”
“But what will you do today?” Hazel presses, clearly enjoying poking fun at him.
“It’s just a tie. I have another with me anyway,” Sawyer says.
“Of course you do,” I say with an eye roll that’s borderline affectionate. I tense. Shit. Was that too flirty? Does that reveal too much about our secret? Sure, everyone here teases him, but does my teasing sound…naughtier?
My cheeks heat, and I jerk my gaze away from him. I’ll just ignore my own flirtations, thank you very much.
I march to the training nook with the tie and stuff it into my purse so I can take it home. No one can tell. You’re fine.
I spend the rest of the day making sure I’m not giving anything away. It’s easy enough since I have more training sessions—a friend of Veronica’s, and a couple locals too.
In the late afternoon, I’m straightening up my nook when a handsome man in a suit—no tie—walks in with a confident swagger.
His dark hair is swoopy, and his friendly eyes laser in on me first. “Hello there. I’d love to hear all about doggie daycare and training,” he says in a charming British accent.
Sawyer’s at the counter, so he chimes in, giving the man the details about Dog Tails. After, I tell him about my training.
“Brilliant,” the man says, then flashes me a fantastic smile. “I’m Ian. I’ll be in touch.”
“Wonderful. Have a great day,” I say as I wave goodbye.
When he leaves, Sawyer’s forehead is full frowny, and his jaw is set hard.
But the phone rings, and then my alarm for another session goes off.
There’s no time to talk to Sawyer privately in the evening either, since I head to the theater for a rehearsal after I finish for the day.
I’m a little early, and my mom is still working with The Hot Shots.
They’ll open the fundraiser, but I don’t need to rehearse with them since they’re a cappella.
I slip in behind her into the second row as the firefighters onstage start humming the opening notes to a familiar tune.
The men and women in blue khakis and matching T-shirts that make their profession crystal clear shimmy their hips a little from side to side, while the Darling Springs fire captain croons in a deep baritone about whether a little girl’s daddy is home.
They’re practicing Bruce Springsteen’s “I’m on Fire.”
Damn, they sound good. The music thrums in my bones; the lyrics seep into my body. And as the first responders work through the sexy song, I feel, really feel, the words and the meaning about trying to cool a desire.
My mind happily wanders, too, and soon I’m picturing Sawyer singing this at Pour Decisions. Locking eyes with a woman in the audience. Singing the words of obsession to me.
I’m practically squirming by the time it ends. And I ache more than I want to in a community theater. Someone needs to cool my desire.
When the song ends, I tap my mom’s shoulder. “They’re amazing. But maybe they should sing ‘On the Good Ship Lollipop’ next?”
She arches a pristinely groomed brow. “Darling. Don’t say such things. They have one more song, and then we’ll move into our rehearsal.”
I exhale, trying to let go of the sparks inside me, but when the group launches into Kings of Leon’s “Sex on Fire,” I bolt up. “I need to get a cold drink of water.”
Or an ice bucket.
When I return, Mom pulls me aside and says, “Do you and your brother want to sing ‘Islands in the Stream’ this year?”
I stare at her. “No. Never. Ever. Ever.”
“I just love that song. Can’t fault a woman for trying.”
“You and Angelo should sing it then.”
“Oh! Why didn’t I think of that before?” She spins around, clearly looking for her beau, who seems to materialize whenever my mother needs him. He jogs down the aisle seconds later, a roguish smile on his handsome face and his eyes lasered only on her.
“Love, why aren’t we doing a duet?” Mom asks.
When Angelo arrives, he takes both her hands in his. “A question I ask myself every day.”
As they debate where the iconic duet will fit in the show, I move to the baby grand onstage.
I focus on the music I’m playing, just the music.
Even when Sawyer arrives to practice the closing number for the first time, I concentrate on my job.
We rehearse the music only, not the dancing yet.
It’s a little ridiculous how on fire I am hearing him sing an old standard.
That night, I focus on work too, when I’m home alone.
With my business growing, I need to focus on marketing and advertising even more.
I edit more training videos, then post them, trying not to think about Sawyer most of the time.
The next day I don’t talk to Sawyer about the great banging. But I do sneak a few inhales of his cedar-and-citrus scent when he comes into my training nook in the morning, smelling too good. “Want to review your sequences?”
I want to review your tongue.
“Sure,” I say, and I show him the training sequences that I’ll work on tomorrow with the dog extras here at Dog Tails. The next scene I’m handling for the show will be shot at the local dog park later this week. I need to make sure the background pups are ready.
He sits next to me, close, but not close enough as I show him my tablet.
“They look…efficient,” he says, looking up, his dark eyes flickering with so much innuendo I nearly melt.
“Good. That’s good,” I say, more breathy than anyone discussing efficiency should be.
“It is. Really, really good,” he rasps out, and I don’t even know what we’re talking about anymore. I just feel all this electricity crackling between us.
So much it takes me a few seconds to remember what I needed. “Oh, and you have the talent waivers?”
“All set,” he says, then he lists the dog actors.
Finally, my focus snaps into place as I think about the work I’ll be doing with them tomorrow.
This—this working together—is my reminder that there’s more at stake than this bad desire.
This TV show is my chance to make my mark. To build my business. I can’t get distracted, and workplace romances only ever lead to disaster.
I can find disaster well enough on my own.
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