Page 40 of You and Me, For Real
He nuzzles my hand with his nose, begging for more touches.
I laugh. “Greedy today, aren’t you? Probably because you know you’ve got to share my attention today, huh? It’s just for a few hours, and then it’s back to you and me. Well, and the two fosters.” I pray they keep their destructive tendencies to a minimum while I’m gone. Since Teddy’s with me, I at least left them in his crate.
We approach the house number Griffin gave me. I pull through the modern metal-and-frosted-glass gate and into the circular drive. My jaw hits my lap. His home is a stunning two-story white house with clay tiles, accented with palm trees and manicured flowerbeds across the front of the whole house and surrounding property line. Surely one man doesn’t need such a huge space. My thoughts drift to my childhood “home” and how cold, vast, and empty it felt.
I shove the car into park and grip the keys, gathering my courage. Too soon, Griffin steps onto the porch and leans against his doorframe. He takes a sip from a plain white coffee mug.
Lord have mercy.
The man makes everyday occurrences look like a modeling ad. He’s dressed in a form-fitting, long-sleeved navy shirt and gray sweatpants. He lifts his mug in the air in greeting. His face has more stubble than the last time I saw him, but his hair still possesses its perfected swoop to the side.
My pulse thrums in my throat.
This meeting feels different. More personal. More intimate. It’s been a week since our last training session, but throughout the week, we’ve exchanged texts almost every day. Our conversations usually pertained to Roxy or various dog training tips, but sometimes it’s just simple ones like,Hey, how are you?What are you up to tonight?Those were the most confusing, because I couldn’t help the flutter in my chest every time I got them. Casual texts outside of tips definitely did not feel like they fell within the lines ofprofessional.
As I study him standing there on his front porch, he doesn’t need fancy attire or some stylist perfecting his look. This right here? This confident, domestic look is the most confusing, the most tempting, the most dangerous, and therefore, the most troubling.
So, so much trouble.
I need a flashing sign attached to his shirt saying:Warning! Off limits! Has a girlfriend!I can think of any number of phrases that would work sufficiently.
He steps off the porch and walks toward my car.
“I guess we’re doing this, Teddy.”
My hands shake as I grab Teddy’s leash. “Lord, give me strength.”
My car door creaks as I shut it, breaking the beautiful, idyllic trance of this perfect environment. To avoid looking in Griffin’s direction, I grab a bucket of toys and treats from my backseat.
“Morning,” he says cheerfully. “Need any help?”
I look over the top of my car at him. Straightening my posture, I balance the basket on my hip and guide Teddy around my car. “No, all good.” My tone is casual and thankfully, without a hint of shakiness.
A slow, sexy smile spreads across his face.
Does he have no care for my well-being? How am I supposed to work in these conditions? He’s too attractive for his own good.
I clear my throat. “Ready to get to work?”
His smile widens. “Absolutely. Let me grab that for you.”
He steps next to me and grabs the basket from my arms before I can protest. His cedar scent envelops me, testing my strength.
“And you brought gifts. How thoughtful.” He peeks inside the basket. “Although I love bacon, I’m not sure these treats are what I had in mind.”
“They’re for Roxy.”
Have a sense of humor, Ashton! Drum up those long-forgotten people skills you have hidden somewhere.
“I figured.” His lips tilt, and he opens the door. “Go ahead.”
I walk across the threshold into one of the most pristine houses I’ve ever seen. And I grew up in the Hills! “Do you actually live here?”
His living room is a mix of plush black leather chairs and cream couches. The place is so spotless I could eat off the floor. The polished white marble tiles glisten in the morning sun. I don’t dare leave the foyer rug, fearful of messing up a single tile.
I glance at his feet. He’s sporting some kind of masculine houseshoe.
I step back outside the door. “Actually, I’ll go around back. Do you have a front gate to the backyard?”
