Page 7 of The Billionaire's Pawfect Match

He barks and launches himself at me, paws landing on my shoulders. I push him off before he scratches my face.

After feeding us both a quick breakfast, I clip his leash to his collar. “Come on, you beast.”

The car ride to work isn’t any easier than the car ride home was. It’s not until I see another dog hanging its head out a window that I remember that’s something dogs like.

“There you go.” I roll the passenger’s window halfway down for him, and he shoves his head out of it. For the rest of the ride, he manages to stay out of my life. It’s a win. A small one, but a win nonetheless.

“Hey, Baxter.” The security guard greets him with a pat on the head, seeming genuinely happy to see the fluffy monster. “Morning, Mr. Lennox.”

“Morning,” I say, wondering if he’s seeing the same dog I am. How can anyone get along with this animal?

Baxter gets more and more excited the closer we get to my office. He doesn’t walk so much as he careens, his size a liability I hadn’t considered until now.

“Easy, boy.” I do my best to get him under control by tugging on the leash, but not only is he strong; he’s unpredictable.

He dives under the first desk he sees, and I hear the unmistakable sound of disconnecting cables. Monitors flicker and die, and the collective groan of my team fills the space.

“Sorry!” I call out, my face flushing with embarrassment.

This wasn’t how my father did it. Even though he brought Baxter to his office every day, you’d hardly know the dog was there. He usually chilled in his bed or gnawed on a bone.

My dad, as much as I hate to admit it sometimes, had an aura that even animals seemed to respect. Now hereIam, chasing after a dog who’s systematically dismantling my credibility.

“Want some help?” Oliver, one of my team members, asks, his concern laced with a hint of amusement.

“Fine, just fine,” I lie through gritted teeth, diving under the desk to retrieve Baxter.

He looks up at me, tongue lolling out, and for a moment I wonder if he’s doing this on purpose. To annoy me, to challenge me, to remind me that I’m not the man my father was.

“Baxter!” It’s Carol calling, and the dog listens, going right to her.

She rewards him with one of the treats she keeps in her desk before handing him a fresh bone. Thrilled, he settles down with it between his paws and starts chewing away.

“I have someone for you to call,” Carol says, turning to me.

“Who?” I mutter, raking my fingers through my hair, realizing I haven’t looked in a mirror once this morning.

Did I even brush my teeth? I don’t know.All I remember is Baxter. Cleaning up after Baxter. Feeding Baxter. Yelling at Baxter.

“Emily. She’s a dog trainer — some say whisperer,” Carol explains, pressing the paper into my hand. “She worked miracleswith my mother’s terrier — a real terror before Emily stepped in.”

“Sounds too good to be true.” Skepticism is my knee-jerk reaction, a shield against hope that can so easily morph into disappointment. But desperation has a way of wearing down even the thickest armor, and so I take the number.

Alone at my desk, Baxter still working on his bone next to Carol, I dial the number. Best to get this out of the way so I can get to work. The phone rings, once, twice, then a voice on the other end, light and airy, answers.

“This is Emily.”

“Hi, Emily, I’m Isaac. Isaac Lennox. I have a… situation with a dog,” I start, choking on the understatement. “Baxter. He’s a bit of a handful. Carol, my assistant, said you might be able to help. You worked with her mom’s terrier.”

There’s a short pause, and I wonder if it’s because of my name. Lennox Realty is a worldwide company, with our headquarters here in Portland. You’d be hard-pressed to find someone who has never heard of us.

“I’d love to help,” she says. “How about the dog park on Fifth around four this afternoon? No obligations. We’ll just see what we’re dealing with and go from there.”

Straight to the point. I like it. Even more than I like her musical voice.

“Four works. Thank you,” I reply, a flicker of relief igniting within me.

“Great. See you then, Isaac.” Her voice is warm, reassuring, and I allow myself a sliver of hope that maybe this will be the turning point.

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