Chapter 1
Lilah
Being a professional dog sitter sounds like a dream job until you’re on your ass, covered in what appears to be viscera, with a giant tongue in your face. And while the owner of said tongue might be tall, dark, and handsome, I’d really rather he keep the damn thing to himself.
Or at least out of my mouth.
“Seriously, Goliath?” I whine, trying to shake off whatever it is the aptly-named Great Dane mix threw at me in his excitement over his discovery at the dog run in the park. “I thought we had a deal, man!”
The big goof just cocks his head and grins. A shiny streak of something dark mars the playful white stripe from the middle of his glossy black forehead over his snout, turning his mischievous maw a bit gruesome.
“You’re far too pleased with yourself, sir,” I mutter, turning at the waist to assess just how much of me is covered in…guts?
Ugh, what even IS this? And how long ago did it die?!
Before I can discern exactly what is splattered across my jeans, Goliath loses patience and head-butts me in the hip. Between his hundred and thirty pounds and my mild contortion, I have zero chance. The asphalt rushes up in record time, knocking my breath clean out of me.
Dream job, James. This is your. Dream. Job.
“Whoa, you okay?”
The deep, smooth voice catches me entirely off guard. I squawk in surprise as Goliath comforts me yet again with a tongue to the eyeball.
I love you, too, but who the hell is that?!
“Sorry, sorry,” the stranger says with a chuckle, holding his hands up like I’m a frightened animal.
Or maybe it’s the giant Great Dane pit bull he’s trying to placate.
Goliath tugs on the leash as I struggle to my feet, almost yanking me over in the process. He sniffs at the newcomer while I absently brush the dirt and twigs from the seat of my jeans. It’s twilight but the nearby streetlamp illuminates the guy’s chiseled features.
Fuck, chiseled is right. Dude’s like a Renaissance statue.
He’s probably got a decade on me, his designer sweater and jeans oozing money. But there’s a kindness in his eyes that seems at war with the arrogance I’m used to from my wealthier clientele.
And my shitty former bosses.
“You okay?” The stranger’s deep voice is warm as his brows dip while he regards me, still keeping his distance even as Goliath loses interest. “I would’ve helped you up, but I wasn’t sure what Cujo here would do if I did.”
I laugh. “What, GoGo? Don’t let his size fool you, beast’s a marshmallow.”
The guy’s eyes light up, his mouth quirking in one corner. “GoGo?”
Heat rises to my cheeks as I duck my head with a nod. “Yeah, Goliath. GoGo to his friends.”
He drops his gaze to the small horse in question, a soft smile on his lips. “Goliath indeed.”
Before I can escape to deal with whatever disgustingness is drying on my clothing, the stranger’s light brown eyes return to mine.
“That was quite the tumble.” He glances down at my jeans, darkened in streaks from whatever gift Goliath flung at me earlier. He frowns and takes a half step closer. “Are you hurt?”
I barely contain my snort. “My pride, yes. Nothing else, though. Whatever…this is,” I wave vaguely at my lower body, “was a gift from his lordship over there.”
Right on cue, Goliath lifts his head to grin as we turn in unison. He’s got dirt all over his white streak now.
Great. Another bath for the big baby. His faaavorite.
“I’m Julian.”
I blink and look over at my would-be rescuer. He’s staring at me intently, that half smile still on his lips.
“Julian,” I repeat, momentarily confused as to why he’s volunteering the information.
He chuckles. “This is the part where you tell me your name. I’m guessing it’s not ‘Goliath’s owner.’”
An awkward laugh escapes me. “Oh no, definitely not. I can’t imagine this guy in a five-hundred-square-foot studio, can you? Dear lord, there’s barely enough room for my bed, let alone his.”
Sure, Lilah, tell him your life’s story instead of your name. Smooth.
“So you’re either a dog walker or a dog napper, then?” he teases.
“The former, thank you very much.” I fish out one of the business cards I keep in my crossbody bag for these very conversations—you’d be surprised how many people assume it’s their business to know yours—and hand it over.
“Happy Tails Pet Sitting,” he reads aloud, swiping a broad thumb over the text. “Lilah James, Lead Playworker.”
“That’s me,” I announce, doing a strange imitation of a curtsy for a truly unknowable reason.
His eyes crinkle in the corners as he grins. It’s ridiculously attractive. And disarming.
“Short for Delilah but I don’t go by that for obvious reasons,” I ramble. Again.
A gorgeous guy crinkles his eyes at me and my common sense has fled the building.
“Hey there—” he starts to sing.
“No!” I hold up a hand, eyes wide as I laugh. “Don’t you dare. I’ve spent my adult life running from that damn song.”
“But it’s such a good one!”
“I promise you, it’s not.” I shake my head emphatically just as Goliath gives an almighty tug, pulling me in a half circle.
“Easy there!” Julian reaches for me, his strong fingers catching my elbow in a firm grip.
Even through my thin sweater, I feel his touch like a brand. My breath catches as I stumble and somehow slam right into him, chest to chest.
“Oh shit,” I gasp, electricity racing along my skin.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice like gravel as he wraps an arm around my waist to hold me up.
My eyes fly to his and it’s like I’m in some sort of rom-com movie. Time feels like it slows down as I lose myself in his endless caramel irises. His gaze dips to my open mouth, his arm tightening minutely as it does.
Seemingly done with exploring the park and no doubt ready for his buffet-style dinner, Goliath starts back down the path toward home, all but yanking me away from Julian.
“GoGo, come on!” I laugh, trying to pull him to a stop. “You’re a terrible wingman, dude.”
Julian chuckles and the sound raises goosebumps along my arms. “Pretty sure you don’t need a wingman, Delilah James.”
Goliath pauses on the path, tongue out and happy as he deigns to wait. I swallow roughly and look back over my shoulder.
“Don’t I?”
Julian shakes his head and glances down as he chuckles. “You never did.”
“Wow. Random chicks covered in goop with giant horse dogs that don’t belong to them really do it for ya, huh?”
He steps right up to me, nearly crowding me as he peers down, his fingertips settling lightly on my arm.
“Gorgeous brunettes with whip-smart banter and an entrepreneurial spirit, who just so happen to be named Delilah, really do it for me, yes.”
My throat is suddenly quite dry as I try not to squeak my surprise.
What is happening right now?!
“Is that so?”
He hums as his fingers trail slowly up the outside of my arm, before slipping back down to take my hand in his.
When did humming get so…erotic? And why does holding hands feel like foreplay?
“It is so. Now, can I walk you and Goliath to wherever you’re going?”
“Oh you don’t have to do that—“
“I want to.” His fingers tighten briefly on mine to underscore his pointedly cocked brow.
My cheeks heat once more. “Ah, yes. Sure. GoGo’s folks live just down the block.”
“Lead the way.”
Julian drops my hand as he sweeps it out in front of us in a gesture reminiscent of my earlier attempt at courtly manners. Before I can miss the loss of his touch, his other palm settles in the small of my back, warming me through my thin sweater.
“Thank you, kind sir,” I say in my poshest accent, nodding primly.
His eyes brighten in pleased approval and my praise kink raises its horny head tight in my core.
Oh, this one is trouble, James. What on earth are you doing?
“Is your job done once you take him home?”
There’s a whole undercurrent of unspoken asks in that simple question, like Julian is carefully not saying all the things he wants to.
“Just have to feed him dinner and tuck him in. His dads will be home in a couple hours.”
He hums again, briefly, and I feel it in my bones.
“Do you like it? Pet sitting.”
I nod absently, eyes on Goliath as he trots to the side of the path, sniffing while we walk. My body is intensely aware of Julian beside me, his body heat and the clean, sharp scent of bergamot tantalizing reminders of his proximity.
“It’s even better on days when my charges don’t throw animal remains on me.” I glance down at the crusty streaks along my legs, grimacing. “Well, I hope they’re animal anyway. Kind of hard to tell, really.”
“Do you have another client after this?”
I glance at Julian, brows raised in question. He laughs.
“Sorry, that probably sounded forward. Mostly I’m hoping you have time to clean up before the next dog takes Goliath’s leftovers as an invitation to pile on.”
My snort is decidedly unladylike. “They totally would, too. You have a dog?”
He shakes his head. “I used to. Been thinking it might be time to bring another home, though.”
I feel his gaze like a physical thing, the small hairs at the back of my neck rising with my awareness.
“Will you have time, then?” He prods as we turn a corner, Goliath’s house just three doors away.
“Oh, right.” I slow, pausing at the neighbor’s driveway and out of view of the Campbells’ doorbell camera. “I should. I’m done for the day after this, though the bus ride home doesn’t sound fun.”
Julian's eyebrows creep higher. “Bus?”
“Yeah, it’s only 30 minutes or so. Depending on traffic.”
His expression tightens, lips flattening into a thin line. “That sounds like a terrible idea, Delilah. I live nearby and am more than happy for you to clean up there. And give you a ride home after.”
Holy shit.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly put you out like that—”
“You wouldn’t be putting me out,” he insists. “I’m happy to help.”
I huff a breath, searching his face as Goliath tugs lightly on the leash, no doubt eager for his dinner. “Why?”
And why hasn’t the thought that you’re an axe murderer crossed my anxiety-ridden brain?
His smile is slow, those gorgeous crinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes again. “Is it too forward of me to say I’m not ready to say goodnight?”
Aaaand I’m dead.
“No, not too forward,” I murmur.
“Good. I imagine GoGo’s folks wouldn’t appreciate a stranger in their home. I’ll wait while you get him sorted.”
As though he understood every word, my giant client sets off toward his house, tail whipping side to side.
“O-okay!” I call over my shoulder, following as Goliath drags me away.
This is either a terrible idea or an excellent one. Can’t wait to find out which.