Page 22 of The Billionaire's Secret Desire
"Family first, right?" she chirps before hanging up.
I stare at my phone, ready to launch it across the kitchen. Ghost whines at my feet, sensing the shift in the air. I start making calls. Fast.
One after another, the usual backups are booked solid. Ian and Mia? Already halfway to Palmera Island. Reid? On call at the hospital all weekend. Parker? Out of town for a fishing tournament. Kane? "Dude, I'm on baby duty."
Charli appears at the entry of the kitchen, her duffel bag slung over one shoulder, wearing a bright, excited smile. Meanwhile, I’m practically pacing a trench onto the floor.
She stops short, eyeing me with amused suspicion. “Uh-oh. What happened? Did the jet blow up? Is there a hurricane? Do we need to build a raft and row to the Bahamas?”
I almost smile. Almost.
"Ghost-sitting situation," I mutter, scrubbing a hand through my hair. "My pet sitter bailed. And everyone else is tied up."
Charli sets her bag down and crosses the room, barefoot, moving with that serene confidence of hers that drives me a little crazy. She scratches behind Ghost’s ears, and the traitorous mutt immediately melts into a puddle of bliss, rolling dramatically onto her back with her paws in the air and letting out a ridiculous, contented snort that makes Charli laugh and my chest tighten.
"Why can't she just come with us?" she asks, like it’s the simplest solution in the world.
"International travel," I say grimly. "Ghost doesn’t have the paperwork yet. Vaccinations, clearances, the whole nine yards."
"Ah." Charli bites her lip, thinking. Then her eyes light up. "Wait. Becky!"
I blink. "Becky?"
"Yeah, my friend from kickball. She owns Happy Tails Pet Services and works part time at the Hibiscus Harbor AnimalShelter. She’s amazing with animals. Took care of Molly's two insane golden retrievers for a week and lived to tell the tale."
I raise an eyebrow, half skeptical. "How trustworthy is she?"
Charli crosses her arms and gives me a look. "She’s the human version of a golden retriever herself. Completely trustworthy. If anything, she’ll spoil Ghost rotten."
Before I can argue, Ghost flops her head into Charli’s lap, snorting happily and kicking her legs like she’s dreaming of chasing tennis balls across a field. Charli laughs and ruffles her ears, smiling so brightly it’s almost blinding.
"Alright. Call her," I say, defeated.
Charli's already dialing. Two minutes later, she's chatting with Becky, her voice animated and full of energy as she rattles off details like it's no big deal. Ten minutes after that, there's a knock at the door. I answer it to find Becky standing there—a petite, freckled whirlwind of energy with a bright smile and a leash in one hand.
"Hi! You must be Sawyer!" she says, offering me a hand to shake. Before Becky can even introduce herself properly, Ghost barrels toward her like a furry missile. Instead of flinching, Becky laughs and opens her arms, catching Ghost mid-jump as the dog plasters herself against Becky’s legs with a happy, rumbling groan.
"Well, someone approves," Becky says, scratching Ghost behind the ears like they've been best friends for years. She looks up at me and grins. "She's perfect. Absolute sweetheart."
Charli steps beside me, smiling proudly, and I swear she looks like she just scored the winning point in a championship game. I glance at Ghost, who's now sprawled across Becky's feet like she's known her forever and I feel some of the tension in my chest ease.
"I'll stay here if that's easier for you," Becky adds, still petting Ghost. "It helps keep her in her normal routine."
"You do house-sitting, too?" I ask, feeling better about this by the second.
Becky nods enthusiastically. "Absolutely. Comes with the package."
I don't hesitate. "You're hired."
Charli beams at me, practically glowing with pride. She doesn’t even realize it, but that little proud tilt of her chin, the way her shoulders straighten—it’s like she’s just solved a giant, unsolvable riddle and is waiting for her gold medal. And damn if I don't want to hand her the biggest one I’ve got.
"You’re a lifesaver," I tell Becky, shaking her hand firmly. Then I glance at Charli, letting my mouth curve into a small smile meant just for her. "And you’re not so bad yourself, sunshine. Thanks for the suggestion."
Charli ducks her head and turns away, but not before I catch the faint flush rising on her cheeks.
Ghost, clearly not wanting to be left out of the celebration, launches herself onto the couch with a dramatic grunt, flinging one of the throw pillows onto the floor in the process. Becky and Charli laugh, and I shake my head, a grin tugging at my mouth despite myself.
Charli tries to play it cool when we step onto the tarmac—chin high, shoulders back, all confidence and calm—but the second her eyes land on the jet, the mask slips. Her stride falters for just a beat. Her lips part in this small, stunned gasp as she tries to turn into a cough, but I catch it. She stops walking and tilts her head slightly; her gaze tracking the sleek, silver fuselage like she’s not sure if it’s real or part of some elaborate prank. Her fingers tighten on the strap of her duffel bag, and I canpractically see the swirl of disbelief and awe flicker across her face before she schools it back into something more neutral. But the shine in her eyes gives her away—she’s completely enchanted, and it’s damn near impossible not to smile at the sight.
