Page 11 of Must Love Dogs… and Hockey

“I’d pay well.”

This piques my interest. Little does he know, but I’m in debt up to my formerly well-groomed eyebrows. But still…“What if I took off with your dog and your money and you never saw me again?”

“I wouldn’t be much worse off,” he says dryly.

“Ha.” I play with Otis’s funny ears. “How much?”

“How much what? Pay?”

“Yes.”

“Hell, I don’t know. Would you come to my place and look after him? Or take him home with you?”

“Well, since you’re obviously extremely trusting and naïve, I’ll point out that letting a total stranger have access to your home is probably not wise.”

He rolls his eyes at the “trusting and naïve” comment.

“So I would look after him at my place.”

“Okay. Five hundred dollars?”

I gasp. “You’re kidding me.”

He lifts his hands.

“For one night?”

“Sure. Except I won’t be back until late Wednesday, like really late, so it would be three nights. Five hundred a night.”

Holy shit. That would be fifteen hundred dollars. Is this guy for real?

I study him through narrowed eyes. He’s holding my gaze and seems honest. “Cash.”

“Sure. I can drop him off tomorrow morning.”

This is all weird. The guy can’t keep his dog under control. Except it’s not even his dog. And he’s kind of a flirty, cocky ass.

But watching him with the dog…he’s gentle, if a little awkward. And he’s willing to pay big bucks to have the dog looked after.

I’m trying to see the downside to this. Looking after a pup isn’t that much work. It’s not like I have much else going on. If I get the money up front, the worst thing that would happen is Easton doesn’t come back for the dog and I’d have to deal with it. “Okay. Deal.”

He lifts his arms in the air. “Yes!”

I grin.

“It doesn’t put me in a good bargaining position,” he says. “But I was desperate.”

So am I. “Well, worry no more. I’ll take good care of Otis.”

“Give me your address.” He pulls out his phone.

I hesitate. Giving my address to a stranger doesn’t seem very smart. Would it be wiser for me to go to his place? I gnaw briefly on my bottom lip. “Maybe I should pick him up.”

“Okay.”

I remove my phone from the pocket in my leggings and he gives me his address. His place is only a few blocks away, on Riverside Boulevard. Given the address, I’m pretty sure his apartment is a lot nicer than mine. Maybe he really does have fifteen hundred bucks to spare.

“And your name,” he adds, waiting.

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