Page 12 of Must Love Dogs… and Hockey

“Right.” I shake my head. “It’s Lilly. Lilly Evans.”

I give him my phone number in case anything changes, which wouldn’t surprise me, because the way my luck is going that could easily happen. Let’s just say I won’t be going out and buying new shoes before I have that cash in my broke little hands.

“Can you pick him up around eight-thirty?” Easton pockets his phone.

“Yes. That’s fine. You can give me all the instructions.”

“Ha. Like I have any instructions for you. I had to google how often to feed him.”

I bite my lip on a smile. “Oh.” I stand. “Okay, Lola, let’s finish our walk.”

“Okay.” He stands too, still gripping the handle of Otis’s leash. “See you in the morning, Lilly.”

Otis strains at the leash, trying to follow us, apparently enamored of Lola, or maybe both of us, as we walk away from them. I guess that’s good if I’m going to look after him. Easton’s a bit of a jackass and Otis is not well behaved, but…fifteen hundred bucks. Okay!

Chapter 3

Easton

Lilly arrives promptly at eight-thirty. That’s a good sign.

I may be crazy turning the dog over to a stranger. I could have paid for him to go to a kennel while I was gone and it would have been cheaper, but poor Otis. He’s kind of neurotic. I don’t know what happened in his past life, but obviously whoever owned him didn’t care much about him. He loves me and he went crazy for Lilly, but he’s not so good around other dogs and even other people, so I just couldn’t imagine locking him up in a cage for three days.

“Hi,” Lilly says cheerfully as I open my door.

Today she’s wearing jeans and a loose navy sweater. Her hair is down instead of in a ponytail and I can see the rich red highlights in the wavy dark brown strands falling around her face and shoulders. Long eyelashes frame dark indigo blue eyes. Her cheekbones are high and sharp and her chin a little pointy, and damn, she’s really, really pretty.

I noticed that yesterday, hell yeah. But that wasn’t why I asked her to look after Otis. I asked because she clearly loves dogs and has a kind, engaging way about her. And Otis liked her.

She bends down to greet Otis, and his stubby tail shakes. He remembers her. He immediately lies down at her feet and rolls onto his back.

“Aren’t you a good boy,” she croons, rubbing his white chest. “Such a good boy.”

“I gotta be honest, he’s not very good.” I roll my eyes. “Yesterday I spent half an hour chasing him up and down the hall when he escaped from my apartment. So make sure he doesn’t get out, because he doesn’t know his new name yet, and he sure as hell doesn’t respond to ‘come.’ ”

“His new name?”

“I don’t know his real name,” I confess. “So I named him Otis.”

“Okay, noted.”

“Also, he, uh, has a lot of accidents.”

“Great.” She straightens and her warm smile disappears as she faces me. Damn. Clearly she likes Otis better than she likes me. “What else do I need to know?”

I hand over the envelope full of cash I made a fast trip to the bank for yesterday, and go through his food, treats, and bathroom routines, such as I know them. “I bought him a kennel,” I tell her. “But I have to warn you, he doesn’t like it. I tried to get him to sleep in there and it didn’t go well, so he’s been sleeping on my bed.”

“Yikes. He seems pretty attached to you.”

“Here’s his stuff.” I nudge the bag on the floor with the toe of my shoe. “Food and water bowls.” I tell her how much I’ve been feeding him and when. “Also some treats and toys and a bunch of poop bags.” I had to go out to a pet store and buy a shit ton of stuff for this dog.

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” she says gravely, but her eyes twinkle.

I scrunch up my face. “Yeah. I don’t really like picking up dog poop, but I guess you’re supposed to do that.”

“Yes.” She nods seriously. “I hate it when people don’t pick up after their dogs.”

“Okay,” I say, rubbing my hands. “Thanks for doing this.”

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