Page 27 of Must Love Dogs… and Hockey

I don’t tell him that I’m getting a little desperate. It’s only been a week, but I don’t have any other clients yet, so—oh my God!—a steady gig looking after Otis is a stroke of luck! But rather than jump up and down and squeal, which is what I want to do, I keep my cool. Because…Easton.

He asked me out. I turned him down. I don’t want to date him. But I really, really want to bone him.

“We need to talk about your fees,” he says.

I hand him the flyer I’ve printed out that has my rates for various services, which I’ve researched from similar businesses in the area. He peruses it and nods. “That’s fine.” He looks up. “We fly home right after the game. With the time change, we’ll be home around one in the morning. I can pick him up first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Whatever’s convenient for you,” I say in my best customer-service tone.

“How about nine? Or is that too early?’

“That’s fine.”

Easton walks over to Otis on the couch and rubs his head. “Bye, buddy. Be good for Lilly.”

Otis’s face changes. He always looks sad, but now he looks panicked.

“Oh no. He’s upset,” I say.

“Shit. I better get out of here.” Easton scrunches up his face and strides to the door. “Sorry.”

“No worries, he’ll be fine. We’ll go for a nice, long walk in the park.” I follow him to the door. “Good luck with your game tonight!”

“Thanks.” His eyes dart toward Otis, now standing and whining faintly. “Crap. I hope this gets better.”

“It will,” I assure him.

Half out the door, he pauses. “Thank you for this. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course!” I beam a smile. Jeez, I should be thankinghim. “I’m glad I can help.”

“It’s a big relief.” A faint smile curves his lips, and then with a wave of a big hand, he heads out.

Okaaaaay.

I’m still having a bit of difficulty breathing and my knees are unsteady, so I stagger over to the couch and collapse beside Otis. I set my hand on his solid little body. “Otis, my man. Your dad is hot.”

Ignoring me, Otis jumps down from the couch, runs to the door, and whines.

“Aw. Poor baby. C’mere. We’re going to have fun together!”

Part of our fun is watching the hockey game on TV that night. I keep pointing Easton out to Otis, but he’s indifferent to the television screen, interested only in the bowl of popcorn sitting on the couch between Carlin and me. Beer and popcorn—perfect for a hockey game, right?

It’s a rare Saturday night that Carlin is home. She and her boyfriend William spend a lot of time at his place lately.

“This is so cool!” Carlin says. “I can’t believe you know him.”

“I know, right?”

The game is exciting. Hockey’s a fast-paced sport and very physical. Watching Easton fly up and down the ice, keeping that little puck on his stick, expertly passing it to other players and then receiving it back is like…porn. It’s turning me on.

Clearly, it’s been way too long since I had sex.

I watch Easton slam another player into the boards, then skate off with the puck toward the opposing team’s net. I sit upright and watch raptly as he takes a shot.

“What a save by Paige!” crows the TV announcer as the goalie throws a leg out in front of the puck.

I sag back onto the couch. “Damn.”

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