Page 22 of Single Girl in the City
“Really.” Abi put her arms around her sister and guided her to the couch. “As for Hank, you know how much he loves you.”
He might be lazy and oblivious and lactose intolerant, but he worshiped the ground Dotti walked on. They’d been college sweethearts, the whole sorority girl–fraternity boy romance that Hallmark movies were based on.
“Now, how about you tell me what I need to do now so you can relax in a hot bath.”
Dotti looked at Abi like she was speaking ancient Hebrew. “I don’t know.”
Abi looked at the mountain of dirty dishes, the piece of string cheese stuck to the side of the fridge, and the popsicle stick in a puddle of what must have once been an actual frozen fruit snack. “What if I start with cleaning the dishes and kitchen.”
“What about your cast?”
“Brace. And I’ll make it work.”
Dotti wiped her nose on the back of her hand and nodded. “The kitchen will be good since I think that’s where Koi poopied.”
Chapter Eight
Happy Things:
Spontaneous kisses
It was barely eight when Owen headed downstairs to work. Living in the apartment above his bar really cut down on his commute time but screwed with his personal life. The separation between work and home was literally a story away, which made it easy to blend the two. Too easy.
Take today for example. It was the last week of March, which meant he needed to make the schedule for the next month. A task that ranked between a root canal and a colonoscopy on the fun scale. Chris used to handle scheduling, but he met, fell for, and followed a woman back to San Diego. And while Owen was hard-pressed to find a replacement, he hadn’t met anyone who could handle the job quite like Chris.
Grabbing a coat from the closet, he made his way down the back steps. Halfway toward the entrance, he spotted a woman standing on the sidewalk, working her way down the street while putting coins in parking meters.
She was dressed in running shoes, a pair of denim shorts—big on the short—with a red oversized sweatshirt and a thousand and one leashes locked around her waist. And attached to the leashes were a dogs—lots of dogs—barking and pulling her in every which direction. Big dogs, little dogs and,would you look at that, his brother’s dog, who was the loudest of the bunch.
“Pup Tart, down,” she commanded, but Pup Tart wasn’t listening. Nope, the hundred-pound mastiff mix gave Abi a full-fledged hug, two paws on the ground, two paws on Abi’s shoulders, his tongue lolling out the side of its mouth. He was nearly as tall as Abi and nearly knocked her over.
“Whoa,” Owen said, walking up behind Abi to stabilize her. She nearly jumped out of her skin and reached into her fanny pack, for what he wasn’t sure, but his nuts shriveled up all the same. He lifted his hands. “It’s just me.”
Looking cool and composed, as if the moment hadn’t happened, she said, “You nearly got tased.”
“You nearly fell over.”
“I had it handled.” At that exact moment, a chocolate lab decided to make a run for it and yanked—hard. Abi stumbled forward two steps before grabbing the leash and leaning back against the force. Even when outmatched, she was stubborn and tenacious.
“Who owns the horse?”
“The Lebowski sisters. They each inherited a half.”
“Which half hired you?”
“I wished it was the front half, because the back half has been smelling up my morning.” Her eyes narrowed. “I really need to get you that bell.”
Then she surprised him with a smile, a stunning smile that reached her eyes, and his chest stuttered to a halt.Damn, she was beautiful. The kind of beautiful that stopped him in his tracks.
“Are you stalking me now?” she teased.
Hell if he knew. One minute he was headed to work, the next he was walking over to her. “Maybe I am.” She seemed to like that answer. “Or maybe you are since there’s an entire city and yet you’re hanging out in front of my bar.”
“I’m not hanging, I’m walking dogs,” she said, and started walking. With only two options, follow her or get busy on the schedule, he fell into step beside her. “And the quarters?”
“Making sure people don’t get dinged for an expired meter.” She walked another car length, reached into her fanny pack, which was hanging at her hips, pulled out another quarter andcha-ching.
“Dog walking or good deeding?”
