Page 25 of The Billionaire's Pawfect Match

I smile to myself, drinking in the amazing day. Monique is my newest client — thanks to Isaac, who knows her from his country club. And she’s already promised to pass my number on to her friends as well.

It’s just like I hoped for. One client is turning into another… which will hopefully turn into more and more. Fingers crossed itjust keeps on snowballing to the point where my every working hour is booked.

And Monique didn’t even blink when I gave her my rate — which is fifty percent higher than what I used to charge. Apparently she feels that I’m worth every cent. And you know what? I’m starting to think I am too. My way with dogs, it’s a special thing, a skill that I’m using to bring a little bit more peace to the world.

Including to the dogs without homes. I’m already looking forward to sending a check to the shelter later this month.

I gather my things — the clicker, the treats, and the worn leash — and make my way to the car. It’s nearing dinnertime, the sky painted in strokes of orange and purple. My dinner will have to wait, though. Isaac wasn’t able to carve out time earlier today for a training session, so we’re starting at six p.m.

My heart stirs, restless as I walk. It’s been a few weeks since our first training session, and yet I’m more nervous at each one. It’s different now, though. I’m not afraid that I’ll fail, and Isaac has proven how committed he now is. Things are going great, overall.

It’s just… seeing him… hearing his voice… it all has this way of making me come completely undone.

It’s a crush that I had hoped would eventually fade, but Issac warming up to Baxter has only made it stronger. Add that day when we fell in the creek, where for a second he looked at me like I was the only thing in the world, and I’ve been a goner ever since. He’s the number one thing on my mind lately.

I slide into the driver’s seat, my fingertips grazing the steering wheel. The phone buzzes — a text from Isaac. Our messages havebecome a thread weaving through my days, unexpected and colorful. Sometimes flirty.

A smile tugs at my lips; it’s silly how such a small thing can send warmth cascading through me.

See you soon. Drive safe :)

Does he add those extra characters, that smiley face, for anyone else? Or is it just for me? I shake the thought away, but it lingers like smoke that can’t be blown away. I start the engine and pull out onto the road, reminding myself to keep my head in the game.

He’s still my client. This is still a professional relationship. I need to get myself under control.

Heck, for all I know, I’ve been imagining the flirtatious tone in his texts. That could be me projecting or whatever.

The city blurs past, streaks of light against the deepening twilight. My fingers grip the wheel lightly, the hum of the engine a steady beat beneath the rush of my thoughts. Isaac’s building looms ahead, a beacon in the gathering dusk. I park and kill the engine, nerves dancing like live wires under my skin.

I take the elevator up to the penthouse, the soft music playing incongruent to the tempo of my heartbeat. Smoothing my hair, I stand a little taller, knock, and then try to get my breathing under control.

The door glides open, and there he is. Isaac, in a simple tee that clings just right, jeans that seem tailored for him alone. He smiles, that effortless curve that sets my pulse racing.

“Hey.” His voice is the warm embrace I didn’t know I craved.

“Hi,” I manage, hoping my voice doesn’t betray the flutter in my chest. “How, um, how are you?”

His smile softens as he steps aside, inviting me in. “Better now,” he says, his voice just above a whisper. It sends a shiver down my spine. I follow him inside, the door closing behind us like the ending of some unknown chapter.

The penthouse smells like him — citrus and fresh linen — and there’s something so rich about the fragrance that it sends my mind spiraling back to the first time I walked in here. It wasn’t even a month ago, but it already feels like another lifetime.

“Where’s Baxter?” Usually, the dog comes running to the door.

Isaac’s brow creases. “Uh… good question.”

“Baxter?” I call.

“Baxter?” Isaac goes down the hallway, looking in rooms until he reaches the last one. A smile breaks across his face.

“What?” I join him in the doorway, only to find Baxter fast asleep in the laundry room on a pile of towels.

“Aw.” I press my hands to my chest.

Isaac lingers in the doorframe, arms crossing over his chest, a soft chuckle rumbling from his throat. “Yeah,” he says, “that is pretty adorable.”

Hearing us, Baxter opens his eyes and lifts his head. A low, delighted bark fills the room as he bounds over to us, tail wagging furiously.

“There he is!” Isaac says, crouching down to scratch behind Baxter’s ears. His jeans stretch taut, highlighting the strength ofhis thighs, and I can’t help but watch, caught by him all over again.

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