Page 62 of In It to Win It

“Good.” He dumps them on the rug.

I laugh. “He doesn’t need all of them at once.”

“I know, but maybe they’ll make him feel at home.”

“I hope he feels like it’s home.” I’m being such a baby about this, but he’s mydog.“You have to keep an eye on him. He sometimes likes to eat weird things. A loaf of bread off the counter. A twenty-dollar bill. One time he ate a bottle of glitter.” I pause. “His poop sparkled for three days.”

JP bursts out laughing. “Noted. How about we take him for a walk? You can see the neighborhood.”

“Okay, sure.”

I grab the leash and some poop bags and we leave the condo.

After locking the door, JP hands me the key. “Here.”

I look up at him.

“For you. So you can get in when I’m not here.”

“Right.” I blink and shove the key in the pocket of my jeans. Of course I have to be able to get in. It just seems . . . personal.

Weirdly, despite my nerves on the way over here, there’s no awkwardness between us. He seemed taken aback when I suggested we just be friends, but today he’s casual and relaxed, and . . . well, friendly.

Down on the main floor, we leave the lobby by a rear exit and follow a well-groomed path through palm and fig trees toward the ocean. We have to cross under a busy street to a grassy area, where Byron decides to do some business.

I glance at JP as I pick up the poop in a bag. “You prepared for this?”

“Sure.” He appears unconcerned.

I get rid of it in a nearby trash receptacle and we continue on until we’re at the beach—volleyball courts. I smile.

“You’d think you’d be better at volleyball, living so close to beach courts.”

“Ha. That was quite the show you put on that day.”

I rein in my smile. “I wasn’t showing off.”

“No?” He slants me an amused look. “I think you were.”

“Phhht.” I totally was.

“We could have a little one-on-one action here sometime.”

I stare at him.

“Volleyball.”

“Right!”

He laughs. “You have a dirty mind, Sunshine.”

My cheeks flame. “Why do you call me that?”

He hesitates, then says lightly, “Because of your smile. It’s like sunshine.”

My heart skips a beat as tension shimmers between us. Then I kick off my flip-flops and bend to pick them up. Carrying them in one hand, I start across the soft sand. JP follows Byron and me toward a grouping of tall, slender palm trees, their fronds glistening in the sun. The breeze is cool on my hot face, despite the bright sun.

“See, Byron’s right at home here,” he points out.

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