Page 3 of Just the Tipsy
“Yep, she’s all good. It’s something that happens to a lot of Pomeranians — alopecia X. It doesn’t hurt her and it doesn’t itch,” he says.
“Oh, good,” I say, looking at his big hands. He handles her so gently. “It’s like she’s wearing those things. The cowboy pants?”
I can’t believe this man has me forgetting words just because he has sexy hands.
“Chaps,” he says with a smile.
“Right, yeah.” My face starts to heat up. He has a little dimple in his cheek that’s charming me way too much.
“We just have to take care of her skin to make sure it doesn’t get too dry and maintain her grooming. Which is where all this comes in.” He puts down the folder he had under his arm, which I now see is a bound booklet. “Here’s a guide to Sadie that I put together. It’s half stuff we give to new dog owners and half stuff I figured out about her in the time she lived with me.”
I thumb through it. The first few pages are print-outs and flyers about general dog care, stuff I really need to know. Then it gets into typed notes specific to Sadie — her favorite toys, her favorite people foods (within reason — she loves apples and peanut butter, apparently), where she likes to sleep (literally everywhere). There are even little notes in a neat, masculine hand, like he thought of extra things and just had to add them.
I’m almost annoyed. There’s no way a guy is this thoughtful and nice deep down. Unless this town is really a Hallmark movie come to life.
He’s probably married anyway, even though he’s not wearing a ring. He gives off married guy energy. Married to a wife who can bake without burning the house down, with a bunch of cutedogs and cats. They probably dress up in coordinated Christmas pajamas for an annual photo.
“This is really helpful, thanks,” I say, closing the booklet. “I don’t know much about raising a dog.”
“Yeah, the estate lawyer mentioned you hadn’t.” He gently rubs Sadie’s forehead with one finger and she closes her eyes. “But if you had to choose a dog for your first one, she’d be perfect. I’ve really enjoyed having her live with me for the past few weeks.”
Sadie looks up at me, sniffing my stomach and hands. Her tail hasn’t stopped wagging the whole time she’s been in here.
“And if you have any questions, we’re neighbors,” he adds. “My yard backs up to yours. And Sadie likes to play with my dog Duke and my brother’s dog, Murphy.”
“You live with your brother?” So he’s probably not married? Why do I even care? I need to pull myself together before I even think of dating. I have a whole bag filled with sex toys to keep me satisfied. I had to lean on them even when I was in a relationship, at least after my ex fell asleep.
“Yeah, it’s a duplex. I’m on one side and he lives on the other with his fiancé,” Waylon says.
I just nod. So, no wife. Okay, I really shouldn’t care if he’s married or not. Men are off the table. Even though my relationship with Kyler was fizzling before it imploded, I need some time to figure myself out.
Then again, what’s wrong with a little bit of fantasizing? I really don’t know why he’s doing it for me so much, but he’s a nice change from all the guys I’ve dated in the past.
“Let me walk you through a few specifics since there’s a lot there,” Waylon says.
He walks me through a few specifics of Sadie’s care, like her grooming and her walk schedule. Eventually he has to move onto the next patients and he brings me outside to put Sadie’s things in my car.
I parked next to his dark blue SUV, and he pops the trunk. It’s full of luggage, which he transfers into my car, squeezing it next to my bags.
“So that’s it.” He runs a hand through his hair. His biceps are ridiculously impressive, even with that small movement. “You can call or text me whenever you want. Or whenever you need, I mean.”
His cheeks flush pink, which makes stupid butterflies appear in my stomach. Can this man stop being so appealing?
“Sounds good.” I pet Sadie’s side.
“She’ll have her booster shots next month, by the way. The office will give you a call to schedule it,” he says.
“She’ll be there with her assless chaps on,” I say with a smile, gently squeezing his bicep as I pass by him to get to my car door.
Oh mygod,what does that even mean? Even saying, “she’ll be there with bells on” would be goofy enough. But I had to go and make a stupid joke? Fucking kill me. I’ve always been the one pursued versus the pursuer, but I’m notthisawful at flirting.
This man needs to be stopped. No man has ever scrambled my brain like this before just by having great biceps. Is he bench pressing St. Bernards in between patients? Then again, looking at him and his slightly dazed expression, I’ve gotten to him too.
“Chaps,” Waylon says.
“Sorry?”
“They’re just chaps.” Waylon’s face gets more and more pink, like he wishes he could stop talking. “Chaps are already assless by default since people usually wear them with pants. So it’s just chaps. I don’t…know why I felt the need to say that.”
