Page 43 of Long Shot

Jack is happily pacing around Cade, who bends and rubs his head and strokes down his back.

“You confuse me.”

He looks up at me. “I know.”

I smile at having my words repeated back at me. “Okay, fine. I’ll get his leash.”

“And the toy.”

“Right.”

I clean up the spilled coffee, unplug my phone from where it’s charging and shove it in the back pocket of my jeans, then find a squeaky rubber chicken. I also stuff a couple of poop bags into a pocket and grab Jack’s leash. As soon as he sees the leash, he goes crazy, barking, whining, and jumping up and down.

“Yes, you like your walks, don’t you, buddy.” I bend down to clip the leash to his collar.

I straighten and meet Cade’s amused eyes. Heat sparks.

Like in his office, I’m intensely aware of him and of the way my skin tingles and my veins heat. Yes, I’m attracted to my boss. Yes, it’s not good. Tempting. But a terrible idea.

“Okay, let’s go.” He opens the door and gestures for me.

I pluck my keys from the rack on the wall near the door and lock the door behind us. The morning is fresh and cool and feels so good on my heated skin. A thin layer of pale clouds allows some of the brightness of the sun through, and the air holds briny hints of the ocean.

“How do you know where I live?” I ask. “Oh, never mind.”

He grins.

That grin is remarkable.

I drag my gaze away from him and over my scrappy front yard, mostly dirt and weeds, and I cringe a little. He probably lives in some gorgeous beachside mansion.

“You rent here?” Cade asks as we hit the sidewalk.

“Yes. It’s reasonably priced and a decent neighborhood. Close to work and the beach.”

He nods.

“Where do you live?”

“Not far, actually. Over on Law Street.”

I’m not familiar enough with the area to know exactly where that is, but it doesn’t matter.

“Let me take Jack.” He reaches for the leash.

I pull it away. “No, I’ve got him.”

His head whips around to stare at me, then he bursts out laughing. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll carry the chicken, then.”

“Won’t you feel silly walking down the street carrying a rubber chicken?”

“I’ve done worse things.” He takes it from me.

“Hmmm.”

“I once had to walk around a Coronado bar carrying a big black dildo.”

I crack up. “Oh, my God.”

---