Chapter Fourteen
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
When I walk into Ooh La Pooch just before six p.m. on Tuesday, I’m surprised to find Henry, of all people, standing in one of his expensive suits in a pile of dog hair, speaking with my grooming manager, Scarlet. Judging by the looks on their faces, it’s a heated conversation. When she sees me, she reddens and steps away from him, combing through the ears of the already immaculately groomed bichon frise on the table in front of her. Henry also takes a step back, bumping into one of the stand dryers.
“Lydia. I—uh, I thought you were at Pooch II today.” He straightens, brushing at the sleeve of his jacket. “I was just... explaining the new POS system to Ms. Lawson.”
I glance again at Scarlet, who looks like she’s hoping the earth will swallow him. They’re nowhere near the register.
“Yes, thanks for your helpful explanation, Mr. Hill,” our employee says, sweeping the dog off the table and placing him in a kennel. With a flip of her purple ponytail, she starts stomping around, putting away her combs and brushes. Henry follows her closely with his eyes, but doesn’t say anything.
Weird.
I head for the desk, glancing around the rest of the shop. Daniela and Alicia must have already gone home. There are only two other dogs awaiting pickup in the kennels against the wall.
”I just came in to run reports on the new system,” I say. Which isn’t really true. Scarlet texted me earlier that the tub drains were running slow. But I’m not in a hurry to bring that to Henry’s attention.
“Right. Well.” He shifts from one foot to the other. “I need to get going. Ah...” He glances back at Scarlet, hesitating a beat too long. “Good to see you, Ms. Lawson.”
She meets his gaze, and for just a second it looks like she’s going to say something. But then she presses her mouth into a line and turns away, and he’s gone.
I bite my lip, not sure what to say. “Is um... is everything okay?”
Scarlet and I aren’t close. She’s a fantastic groomer, but an incredibly flaky employee, and kind of a mess personally, from what I know. Henry initially suggested we give her a raise and make her a manager to see if more responsibility would ground her, but I half expect her to just ghost us one day.
“Mmph,” is all she says, slamming cage doors and snatching up a broom to start sweeping up dog hair.
The owner of a little schnauzer comes in at that moment, and I fumble through Henry’s irritating point of sale system, but manage to check them out. Once the client is gone, I glance back at Scarlet and try a new subject. “So, did you and Trent do anything fun over the weekend?”
“ No ,” she hisses. “Why does everyone keep asking?”
Yikes. I set down the tablet and really look at her as she takes off her grooming apron and throws it into the laundry, her cropped T-shirt revealing a glittery belly button ring.
“Who else is asking?”
She freezes, eyes widening for a moment before she exhales. “Never mind,” she mutters, pulling the elastic out of her ponytail and shaking out her dyed curls.
I furrow my brow, still unsure of what I saw when I got here. “Scarlet, if there’s anything you?—”
“If you’re going to be here, do you mind sending the rest of my dogs home? I just remembered I need to... be somewhere. ”
Before I have the chance to answer, she gathers up her things and sweeps out the door. For a fleeting second after she’s gone, I consider calling Henry to ask what happened. If there’s an issue between them, I should help sort it out.
Except... something tells me it might be better for me to mind my own business, at least for now. So I let it go and walk back to check on the drains in the bathing room.
I’m elbow deep in stagnant water when my text alert goes off in my pocket.
Anton
Just leaving the gym. Do you want to eat out tonight? Or stay in?
Plumbing issues at Ooh La Pooch. Again. Not sure what time I’ll get home.
Can you feed Heartthrob?
He doesn’t answer immediately, so I run the trash to the dumpster and check out the bichon and a border collie when their owners show up. Then I really get to work on the tub drains, trying to figure out the source of the backup once it’s clear they’re indeed running slow.
I am standing in one of our two raised steel bathtubs, trying to get better leverage on the plunger over the drain because nothing else so far has worked, when Heartthrob runs in wagging his tail. The dog takes one look at me standing in the bathtub, cocks his head, and barks in total confusion.
“I could ask you the same thing,” I say to him.
Anton comes in behind him with a plastic bag. “We brought you dinner.”
My brows shoot up. “Oh, you’re amazing. Thank you.” I glance at the clock on the wall in the bathing room and grimace. It’s later than I thought. I start to climb out, and Anton sets the bag aside to help me down.
“We thought you might need some sustenance. Your text sounded stressed,” he says, guiding me to the floor with his hands at my waist.
“Really? You got all of that from two texts?”
“Yep. And your order for a Colorado Club from Mr. Lucky’s.”
I gasp, leaning in to kiss him. “Your interpretive skills are amazing, Mr. Richie.”
He chuckles. “What’s going on with the tub?”
My mood sours a little. “Both are draining slow, but nothing I do seems to help.”
“And let me guess, you want to try and fix this without Henry lecturing you about the cost of a plumber?” He gestures to the drain.
I sigh. “You are so good.”
Anton grins, then hands me the bag of sandwiches. “Why don’t you let me work on it while you eat?”
I take the food without argument, having already tried everything I can think of to get the drains flowing. Heartthrob dances around me as I walk back to the front of the shop, dim the lights, and lock the front door. I dig into the stash of chews I keep in a desk drawer for him and he settles happily inside one of the empty kennels.
I have just finished a club sandwich that tastes like a turkey and avocado dream when Anton steps out of the back, shirtless, with a giant grin on his face. “Fixed it.”
I stare at him. “No way. How?”
I hurry past the four empty grooming stations back to the bathing room, where I’m immediately hit with a familiar, putrid, wet smell.
“Oh.” I cover my mouth and nose. “The hair trap. Why don’t I ever remember that?”
Anton nods, closing the trap access in the floor. He runs a trashcan full of soaked, compacted dog hair to the dumpster and the smell immediately subsides. Even better, the tubs drain perfectly now.
“Thank you. I feel so stupid,” I say, shaking my head when he returns. “I didn’t even think to check that.”
I trail off as Anton steps out of the bathroom drying his hands on a paper towel. Maybe it’s my relief at having one problem solved. Or that we’re here alone. Or just the fact that he looks like a god without his shirt on, but I find myself drinking him in. Something I know I don’t do often enough.
“Have I ever told you how much I appreciate you getting your hands dirty to fix something yourself?” I say, stepping toward him.
“It’s a strategy,” he says, pulling me into his strong arms. “I don’t mind being your handyman when you look at me like that.”
I blush a little, eyes on the floor. “It’s...um, super sexy.”
Anton puffs up, flexing his biceps until I can’t help giggling. And I adore the answering rumble of laughter that rolls from his chest. But it fades after a moment as he looks at me more seriously. “I’ve been meaning to ask... how are you feeling? Is anything... different?”
He holds me at arm’s length, gaze traveling down my body like he’s drinking me in. Until he centers on my middle, and I realize what he’s asking.
“Oh.” My cheeks warm. I shrug, looking away. “No, nothing so far...”
“When can we take a test?”
It strikes me as odd that he says we , but I blink and smile, sharing what I learned from a hasty internet search a couple days ago. “I’m supposed to wait till after a missed period. But we’ll know soon enough. Mine is due this week.”
His face seems to fall when I mention this, and I reach for him, drawing him close again, placing his hands back on my hips.
“I mean, maybe it won’t come,” I say, feeling weirdly reassured that I don’t feel any different.
He raises his gaze to mine, eyes sparkling. He reaches for his discarded shirt, but I grab it out of his hands.
“Um, I—I like you better without it.”
His lips tug into a smirk. “You’re doing an excellent job on your homework.”
I try not to blush. We saw the therapist yesterday, and my new assignment is to let Anton know when I find him attractive—something he has never struggled to do for me.
His eyes traverse my body. “Maybe you’d be better off without yours, too.”
A burst of delight thrills inside my chest, and I take a moment to admit maybe the therapist has the right approach. I have always pulled away from this sort of back and forth. So uncomfortable in my own body, I never knew how to respond—how to nurture my own desire. I would simply avoid anything that might encourage my husband’s touch .
But... I think I’m starting to crave it.
“Come on,” I whisper. “Let’s get home.” I lead the way into the darkened front room of the grooming salon, but before I can stir Heartthrob out of his kennel, Anton’s arm slips around my waist, pulling me back.
“You should have been home hours ago,” he says into my ear.
I go still, a ribbon of guilt twisting through my middle. “I—I’m sorry. You’re right. Things got away?—”
“Didn’t I warn you about working too much?” he growls, stubble tickling my cheek.
My eyes widen. I look around the darkened shop, at the shadows of four grooming stations lined up with four mirrors along the wall.
Do I need to come bend you over one of your grooming tables and remind you about work-life balance?
“I—” I gasp, a light tingle starting up between my legs. “You did.”
He turns me in his arms, and I can see the arousal on his face in the dim porch light shining through the window. Feel it in the way he’s gripping my ass.
I glance at the huge glass window at the front of the shop.
“Is the door locked?” he mutters in my ear, following my train of thought.
“Yes.” My pulse spikes. “But... what if someone looks in?”
His mouth locks over mine, smothering my anxiety. “What if they do?”
And I realize from his tone he likes that idea. The risk of getting caught. Of being seen.
My chest pounds. I have to admit—it has never once occurred to me to have sex at work. It is possibly the least sexy place I can think of doing it. Not only that, it just seems... wrong . Not necessarily taboo, but like coloring outside the lines. Or crossing the street without a walk signal.
“Lydia,” he says in an authoritative voice I recognize. It’s one he’s been cultivating to get me out of my own thoughts. “We are married. You own this place. We can fuck here if we want to.”
Another flash of sensation zips through my core. I look up, and he walks me backward, holding my gaze, until I’m pinned against the grooming table in the shadows at the very back of the shop .
“And I can’t lie,” he growls, “I’ve always wanted to.”
“I...” I gasp as his hand snakes under my shirt, pulling the cup of my bra aside to tweak my nipple. I bite back a groan. “It is pretty dark back here...”
“Yes,” he whispers. “And your handyman just found a couple things that still need fixing.”
He lifts me almost without effort, seating me on the grooming table, then reaches under my shirt and slips it over my head in one swift movement. One side of my bra is still pulled down, exposing my left breast, and he leans in to suck my nipple into his mouth while reaching around to unfasten the clasp.
“ Oh, ” I exclaim as he very gently bites down. And then he pulls away, leaning to one side to drape my bra on the little peg where we usually hang dog collars.
He steps back to look at me and narrows his eyes. “Don’t move.”
He disappears into the bathing room, and I startle at the reflection of my naked torso in the mirror on the back wall across from me. The one we typically use to see all angles of a dog’s haircut. I cover myself with my arms, glancing over my shoulder toward the front door. Ooh La Pooch sits in a little strip of shops in an otherwise quiet neighborhood. There is a florist and a real estate office, but no restaurants or shops that would be open late. And while the porch light filters through the glass enough for us to see each other, the glare outside will keep anyone from seeing in unless they come right up to the window.
But still... I can’t help thinking someone will come along and peer in.
“Eyes on me,” Anton says, drawing my attention as he comes back from the bathing room holding a clean towel.
“Anton, maybe we should...” I trail off when I notice how he’s looking at me. Like he’s just walked in on something he’s always wanted to see.
“The only thing hotter than you sitting here topless would be you on that table completely fucking naked.” His eyes light up when I squirm at his words, but his voice quickly softens. “If you’d rather go home to our bed where you feel safer, I’ll take you. As long as we can go right now. ”
I bite my lip. I am dying a little, knowing that he wants to do this here, on display. In a place I spend hours as a professional during the day. I glance at the front window through the mirror and shiver, feeling so exposed. But I know Anton wouldn’t put me in a position where anything bad was likely to happen. We’re in here with the lights off and the doors locked, after hours. And one glance at the bulge in his pants tells me he is very excited about that. Even if I’m struggling.
And when I think how different things were when we got home from Dallas—how sad he was, how he pulled away—I don’t want to do anything to change how he’s looking at me now.
Slowly, I slide off the grooming table until my feet touch the floor. Keeping my eyes locked on his, I kick my shoes off, slip my fingers under my waistband, and peel my leggings to the floor.
A few moments later, I’m standing in front of him, in the middle of Ooh La Pooch, in just a lacy purple thong.
“Fuck, Lydia,” he mutters under his breath. “You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined you here, just like this.”
“You—You have?” I say, eyes locked on the floor.
He traces a finger up my side, sending a shiver through my skin. “Before Unmatched. Nights you were here working late and I was home—waiting, and waiting. I always fantasized about driving over and showing you just how much I missed you.”
I raise my head, catching movement in the mirror—the shadow of someone walking a dog across the street. I suck in a breath, holding it until they move out of sight. But when they do, when nothing happens and it’s still just the two of us, alone in the dark, I straighten. Emboldened.
“Show me,” I whisper, stepping closer to him, allowing the tingle between my legs to course into a throb. “Show me what you would have done.”