Page 61 of In It to Win It

I’ve mapped out my route on Google Maps and my phone tells me to take the next exit off the 405. It’s another five minutes or so until we turn again to find JP’s street and then his condo complex. It’s a high-rise building, right near the ocean, and my heart drops as I study it.

This isn’t a place for a dog.

I fight back tears. “Look!” I say to Byron as I open the back door and reach for his leash. “This is where you’re going to live!” My eyes sting and I squeeze them shut briefly. “It’s a really nice place!”

Leading Byron inside, I take in the elegant lobby—all glass walls, marble tile, and carpet, with furniture groupings and potted plants.

“There’s a freakin’ doorman,” I mutter to Byron, clutching his leash.

The doorman lets us go up to the twenty-fifth floor with a friendly smile. JP greets us at his door.

Oh God, he looks so good, my knees actually go weak. Stubble dusts his square jaw, his thick hair is messy, and he’s wearing loose athletic shorts and a Golden Eagles T-shirt that hugs his biceps and chest. I could just stare at him all day.

Damn him, I don’t know why I’m so attracted to him. Sure, he’s good-looking and built, but . . . there’s something else. The way he looks at me . . . I tried to tell him we could just be friends, but inside I was a melting pool of lust. The urge to press myself up against him was so powerful I had to tense every muscle in my body. My mouth longed to feel his against mine. I wanted to taste him. Breathe in the scent of him. Put my hands on him everywhere.

God.

It’s happening all over again.

Friends.

I gird my loins and smile. “Hi.”

“Hi.” His smile is easy, friendly. Just what I want. “Hey, Byron.” He takes the leash and Byron happily trots into the condo, his toenails clicking on the dark wood floor.

The door closes quietly behind me as I follow them.

Looking around, I sigh. “This isn’t going to work.”

The place is amazing . . . Light pours in through floor-to-ceiling windows with an ocean view. A massive sectional upholstered in tan distressed leather takes up one corner of the room, a glass coffee table centered in front of it on a patterned rug.

“What? Why?” JP straightens from unclipping Byron’s leash and faces me.

“Look at this place.” I shoot out a hand. “It’s . . . Byron will scratch your beautiful floors and jump all over your furniture.”

JP shakes his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “Your house had hardwood floors and they were fine. And leather is the best thing. If he gets it dirty, I’ll just wipe it off.”

My chest is tight. “It’s twenty-five floors down, every time you have to take him out.”

“Yeah, that’s okay. I mean, it’s not ideal, but I don’t mind. I go out for coffee across the street every morning anyway.”

“What about . . . I’m sure you must, uh, have an active social life. There’ll be times you’ll have to come home to let him out.”

He shrugs. “I’ll figure it out. We’ll keep in touch, and like I said, there’ll be times you’ll need to come by. If we’re both busy, I’ll hire a dog walker.”

My mouth falls open. “A dog walker! That’s?—”

“Lots of people do it. Lots in this building.”

“There are other dogs?”

“Hell yeah.”

I suck on my bottom lip, hands clasped together. What other choice do I have? My apartment is strictly no pets and so is Dad’s. I couldn’t find anyone else who could take him, much as I tried.

Byron is nosing around the room, checking things out. Without me asking, JP strolls into the kitchen, which is separated from the living/dining area by a big granite counter, grabs a bowl from a cupboard, fills it with water, and sets it on the floor. Byron happily slurps, then continues his exploration.

“I brought a few things.” I set down the reusable shopping bag on the coffee table. “A few toys and chews.”

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