Page 2 of Love to Hate You

Summer didn’t want to think about that image. As the book buyer for her shop, she’d read a lot of spicy stories. To her recollection, not a single one had involved sperm collection.

What she did find sexy was his passion for his profession. Plus, what kind of man dedicated his life to helping create families? Hubby material, that’s who. She could already hear them laughing to her friends about their first date. Bookstore girl meets sexy doctor, they fall in love, have test-tube babies, and live happily ever after. It was suddenly one of Summer’s favorite romance tropes. Pair that with their chance meeting on Valentine’s Day, and it was as if it had been written in the stars.

“Which brings me to something I’ve been wanting to ask you all day.” He moved closer, his voice lowering until it was as rough as tossed gravel, and her belly bottomed out. Anticipation had been coursing through her body since that day at the dog park when they’d laughed about their game of leash-Twister and he’d started asking the kinds of questions men ask when they’re interested. “I know this is late notice, so there’s no pressure to say yes, but TEDMED is in Hawaii this year.”

“Hawaii?” Summer could picture Dr. Daniel on the beach, shirtless and smiling as he rubbed lotion all over her body.

God, how long had it been since she’d had a man’s hands on her?

“That sounds amazing.” With her knuckle, she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “A few days on the beach sounds like just what the doctor ordered.”

“Exactly. I mean, there will be a lot of time spent in an unknown number of conference rooms, which is why I’m staying an extra day to relax, snorkel, unwind.”

Man, after the past three years of working nonstop on growing her bookshop and podcast, Summer could use a little unwinding. She could also use a man-made orgasm.

“So, I was wondering...”

She blinked up at him, her eyes dropping to his lips, mesmerized as he spoke. Dreaming of how it would feel when he hauled her up against his better-than-mediocre, shirtless chest, wet with the ocean, and then asked if they could do a little tangled-sheets snorkeling of their own.

It would be difficult to take a weekend off during one of the busiest weeks of her month, but she could make it happen. For the right man, she could definitely make

it happ—

“...if you could doggie-sit Freckle?”

“I’d love to,” she breathed, then suddenly felt a proverbial cold bucket of water crash over her head. “Wait. What?”

“I know it’s a big ask. But he gets this preposterous separation anxiety and doggie daycare isn’t his thing. I’d leave him at my parents’, but my mom’s allergic.”

For a heartbeat, Summer contemplated gently squeezing his hand in that teasing aren’t-you-a-jokester kind of way. He’d squeeze back and say, “Joking! In fact, I’ve been thinking about you in a swimsuit all night.”

“I mean, Freckle and Princess Buttercup get along so well,” he went on, and this time the bucket was filled with ice. “I was just hoping he could stay with you for the weekend.”

“The weekend?” she croaked.

“Four days tops.” Finally, she got that hand squeeze. “I’m desperate.”

“Something I can relate to,” Summer said brightly.

“God, Summer. You’re a lifesaver.”

“I’m something.” The word “pushover” came to mind.

“No, seriously, I don’t have any other friends I’d trust with Freckle.”

And there was the nail in this meet-cute coffin. That F-word heard around the world which seemed to follow her everywhere.

Romance was her life and her profession, so she knew how this story would end. With a new guy friend looking for a woman’s perspective on dating, while Summer was looking for love. It was a tale as old as time. Girl meets boy, boy flirts with girl, then he asks her to spend the weekend picking doggie poop up off the sidewalk, while boy goes on an exotic vacation and meets his one true love, to whom he becomes engaged. The epilogue would be their wedding, with the first girl invited to sit at the singles’ table.

Maybe Summer should just RSVP now, put in her request for the roasted chicken—which would likely be as dry as the other single men at the table.

“Humping aside, Freckle is a great dog. Easy, quiet”—Freckle barked—“friendly and very social. Look at how good he is with Buttercup.”

A sneeze exploded out of Buttercup’s nose, spraying liquid all over Summer’s thighs and dress hem. Then she stood up on her Q-tip legs—a hard feat since she had the body of a bowling ball and the feet of a rhino. After a long moment of mutual adoration, Buttercup let out a single bark, the one that always had Summer caving, then flashed those doggie eyes at her expectantly.

Maybe it was fate. Summer had a long weekend ahead. Preparing for a local author to come do a signing, and looking ahead to her first podcast interview, about intergalactic love, then there was the annual Russo family reunion just a month away, and payroll, inventory, and making a new spring window display. Having a playdate around for Buttercup might be a good thing.

With a resigned sigh, Summer bent down to give Freckle a ruffle behind the ears. He panted in ecstasy, then rolled over to show off his doggie bits. “When do you want to drop him off?”

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