Two years later

I’m in love with a woman who suddenly won’t give me the time of day.

All right, so maybe in love is stretching it a bit, and the woman in question does, in fact, talk to me... during our puppy-parenting classes, but not like before. She doesn’t flirty anymore, barely smiles at me, and I’m starting to get a complex about it.

What the hell happened?

I glance at the object of my inner grumblings and suppress a grimace.

Ashley Mitchell, my puppy-parenting partner for the last five weeks, smiles at the instructor as she listens to him, her slender fingers stroking the head of her dog, a brown, white, and tan mutt named Bluebelle.

The first time I met Ashley, she knocked me on my ass. She walked into class, pretty smile on her gorgeous face as she introduced herself to everyone. I was the last to meet her, but we had something. A little chemistry, or so I thought because we sure as hell made sure to partner up together every chance we got.

Plus, I’d been fairly certain she wanted me to ask her out, but I wanted to wait until classes were done, so there wouldn’t be any gossip about it in class.

Basically, I was a moron who should have asked her out right after our first class together.

My dog Gunner whines because Ashley’s not paying attention to him, then again, neither is Bluebelle. The rescued pit bull is seriously in love with Ashley.

Or her dog.

Possibly both.

“Yeah, wish that were me, too, buddy,” I whisper.

Unfortunately, Ashley won’t be stroking anything of mine because all we ever talked about is our dogs. Nothing beyond that.

She’s always acted like she doesn’t know who I am, or what I do for a living, which suits me just fine. Honestly, that’s what I like most about the class. Out of the five people in it, exactly two know who I am—including our instructor, Jeff. For whatever reason, they’d kept quiet, and I appreciate it.

Sometimes, it’s a hassle to be loved and hated in a city like Raleigh, but it goes with the territory. Besides, can I really complain about attention when I pull in millions each year?

Except, I want to complain about the lack of attention I’m getting from her. Yeah, it’s stupid and childish. But dammit, I’m Ryan Turner.

I grimace at my own mental asshattery.

“Ryan,” Ashley calls, and I slice my gaze to her, my grimace melting away. “Bring Gunner over here, and let’s work on his reaction to Bluebelle one last time. Jeff said it would be a terrific way to end class.”

The pit bull trots over to the woman, practically preening as he goes. Damn dog loves the attention from her. Hell, I love the attention from her, and I’m not even the one getting scratched behind the ears.

I really need to stop with the dog analogies.

A rat terrier growls at Gunner, and I tighten my grip on the leash.

“Don’t do it, buddy,” I say in a low voice. “You’d break him in half before you finished biting down.”

Thankfully, Gunner listens and ignores the rat and his owner, a local florist with more plants than common sense. “Let’s be friends,” the elderly man chortles. “No need for violence.”

Seriously.

Bluebelle happily approaches Gunner, then licks his ear, like she always does. Gunner backs away slightly, and then does exactly what he’s supposed to—he looks up at me and sits.

Hell, yes!

I reach down to pet Gunner on the head, and then give him a treat. “Proud of you, G-Dog.”

“Good job, Gunner,” Ashley coos, chiming in. “Bluebelle is proud of you, too.” She scratches behind his ears, and his stump of a tail wags like crazy. Then she lifts her face to mine, pretty blue eyes shining. “I can tell you’ve really been working with him. Awesome job!”

If I had a tail, I know it would be wagging right now, too. “Thanks.”

She keeps smiling at me, sexy dimples playing peekaboo in each cheek. Yeah, I’m a goner for those. “I don’t think you two will need another round of classes.”

As I rub the back of my neck, panic sets in. I have to make my move. “Yeah. But uh, maybe you and I could have some private lessons together?”

Oh shit, I did not just say that.

“Private lessons?” Ashley gives me a confused look. “But Gunner’s done so well.”

I can’t tell if she’s serious or if she really means back off, dude, you’re being creepy with her question. Not that I’ve ever gotten one of those. Or at least, I don’t remember getting one.

Most women like to be in my company, even before the fortune and fame. I’m charming, they say. I know how to sweet talk, dirty talk, and charm my way into hearts and bedrooms, they say.

Or I thought I did.

Gunner tugs on his leash. “That’s not what I meant.”

Her forehead wrinkles. “It wasn’t?”

Cocking my head to one side, I study her. “Look, if I’ve overstepped my—”

She forestalls my attempt to apologize and save face by holding up her hand. “Ryan, you seem like a super nice guy, but I don’t date f—uh... fellow classmates.”

Super nice guy? Doesn’t date fellow classmates? If that isn’t the kiss of death... “After tonight, I won’t be your fellow classmate,” I point out, determined to play this conversation out to the end. One that has us committed to getting coffee together, at the very least.

“Besides, after tonight, you won’t see me or Bluebelle again.”

I cross my arms, warming up to our banter. “Suppose I do see you again... does that mean I can ask you out?”

“If you see me again, then go for it.” She pats Gunner on the head again, and the dog licks her hand. “Keep working with Gunner. He’s such a sweet boy.”

“Thanks for being my partner,” I say before she walks away to gather her things.

“You’re welcome,” she calls out, then waves goodbye to the rest of the class. “Thanks for your expertise, Jeff.”

The class echoes her sentiments, including me.

I know when to be a gracious loser. I also know patience pays off in the end. All I have to do is make sure I run into her somehow, and then I can ask her out. She didn’t say no. She just gave me the rules. I can live with that.

As long as I know the rules, then I can play whatever game she throws at me.