Page 18 of The Billionaire's Pawfect Match

“Hi,” Isaac replies, his voice tight. He looks uncomfortable, as if he’s wandered into a world where he doesn’t belong.

Does he regret calling me?

“I’m glad you came,” I say.

“Are you sure?” He raises an eyebrow. “I don’t want to bother you.”

I shake my head. “I wasn’t really doing anything. Now is perfect, actually. Want to let him off the leash?”

“Uh… okay.” He complies, and Baxter shoots into the apartment.

There’s very little he can destroy here, though, and he’s mostly just bouncing off cushions and the wall. I grab some treats from the cabinet and hold them out so that he can see.

“Sit,” I command, but Baxter’s brown eyes are wild, ignoring me completely.

“Come on, Baxter.” Isaac sounds like he’s on the verge of a mental breakdown. “Listen to her.”

But the dog is heedless, and I sense Isaac’s impatience growing with each failed attempt. It’s like watching hope fray, thread by thread.

“Isaac, you need to be present for him,” I urge gently, trying to bridge the distance between man and dog. “You were so goodwith him this morning. He can feel what you’re feeling. If you’re angry or anxious, that’ll put him on edge.”

He looks at me then, and there’s a storm in his eyes — a cloudburst of emotions I can’t quite read. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

I press my lips together hard and try not to take his snapping personally. “Being physically here isn’t enough. He needs to feel your connection, just like earlier today.”

“Maybe this was a mistake,” he mutters.

I twist my lips. Does he mean training? Hiring me? Adopting Baxter?

Or all of the above?

Baxter finds one of my shoes and settles down to chew on it. Taking it from him, I give him a dog chew instead. Even though I don’t have a dog of my own, I make sure to buy training supplies in bulk so that I never run out.

The silence grows heavy, and Isaac’s shoulders tense. I search for something to say, something to ease the tension in the room, but I’ve already said everything I can, already done what I can. The next move is Isaac’s, and I can’t force him to take it.

“He was so good for my dad,” he finally sighs.

“Your dad really loved him, huh?”

Isaac smirks. “More than anything.”

Including his own son?

The look on Isaac’s face says he believes exactly that. It’s an arrow through my heart, and an urge to pull Isaac into a hugsweeps through me, but I hold on to decorum and stay where I am.

Hearing him talk more about his dad gives me some insight, though. I can work with this.

“Here’s the thing,” I say softly. “Baxter just lost the person who loved him the most — your dad. That’s got to be hard on him. He doesn’t know who to turn to, who to trust. His whole world has been turned upside down.”

The words hang in the air between us, heavy with unspoken emotion. Isaac’s jaw clenches, a subtle but telltale sign that I’ve struck a nerve. The dog, sensing the shift, whines softly at his feet, the sound a plaintive echo of the heartache filling the room.

“Lost?” Isaac’s voice is low, laced with an edge that cuts through the stillness. “Is that what you think happened?”

I falter, taken aback by the raw pain in his tone. A pang of regret stabs at me; it’s clear I’ve ventured into territory marked with hidden landmines. There’s so much I don’t know about him, about the intricacies of his past.

“Isaac, I didn’t mean—” I begin, but my words crumble as he fixes me with a look that’s both wounded and accusatory.

“Never mind,” he says, his voice brittle. His hands are fists at his sides now.

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