CHAPTER SEVEN
GRAY
“You got me a dog?”
The question was stated in such bafflement that I glanced at Kate for a few seconds before shaking my head. She did look confused, but her eyes were trained on what was in front of us like she couldn’t look away.
“No, my dog,” I replied. “Though not my idea.”
This time, she threw the baffled look my way and I sighed, trying to find the least odd explanation. But I realized there wasn’t one and decided to just go with the truth.
“It was my PR agent’s idea,” I clarified. “He said I needed the dog to clean up my image.”
As I spoke, I looked at the dog again. It was a puppy that looked like a cross between a chow-chow and…something…. It was a combination of gray and white, with a wagging tail and what had to be the most soulful looking eyes I’d ever seen in a while.
Those soulful eyes turned from me to Kate, and I watched as the woman beside me, who always looked so tough and prim-, melting right on the spot.
Her coffee-colored eyes softened, lightening in color. Her mouth opened, almost like she wanted to say something. And then she was suddenly approaching the dog and slowly kneeling down, her hands tentatively patting the dog’s ears before running it down the dog’s fur.
“She’s so silky,” she said, her tone mesmerized.
“He,” I corrected.
“He’s beautiful,” she murmured. Her hands kept running down the dog’s fur, and the dog who was almost wary and shy in the beginning, began to rub all over her hand—then her wrist, tail wagging harder than ever. The dog then moved forward and nuzzled her chest, making Kate giggle and turn into a pile of mush.
Wouldn’t you know it?
I looked at the scene with raised brows, not quite expecting it. When I called Kate asking for her to come home, it was more out of desperation than anything, considering my PR agent Mark scolded me for about an hour before thrusting the leashed dog in my hand, telling me to get the necessities because I was going to house this creature whether I liked it or not. Obviously, Steve hadn’t taken it easy on the PR agent, which resulted in him panicking and getting the dog before even consulting me.
It will help with your image, he’d said. Throw back all the thirsty gossip about your goddamn escapades with women.
I didn’t know anything about taking care of dogs, much less buying what a dog needed. I remembered Paul used to own one—and before I knew it, I was calling Kate and asking for help, because this dog had been whining when I took him home and I honestly didn’t know what to do. At all.
After more petting and nuzzling, Kate finally remembered my presence and glanced up at me. “Clean up your image?”
“It’s a long story,” I hedged.
“Something to do with your…sexual escapades?”
I raised a brow. “You’ve been reading up.”
“I had to,” she shot back. “I was living with a stranger.”
Fair point. I nodded my head. “My car owner wants me to straighten out my act and lay off partying and women for a while. My PR agent thinks this dog is a good start.”
“Do you know anything about taking care of dogs?” she asked.
“No.”
“Is your PR agent crazy?”
“I’m beginning to think so.”
A smile slid to her lips, which she tried to stifle. Kate was actually really cute when she smiled, though she didn’t really do it often in my presence. I couldn’t blame her considering our rough start.
“So this dog is yours now?”
I held out the papers, which Mark shoved into my chest earlier. “Seems like it.”
“And you want my help, is that it?”
“Yep. Your brother owned a dog.”
“Yeah, we did.” She tilted her head, considering. The dog buried his nose on her shoulder, which had her eyes lighting up. “I’ll help you if you let me buy him whatever he wants.”
“Great.”
“And I want to name him.”
“Fabulous. We’ve got ourselves a deal.”
We shook on it once more, and I realized that I was getting into more and more bargains with this woman in such a short amount of time. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, but what the hell?
She could name the dog Satan for all I cared, so long as she helped me take care of it.
Pretty sweet deal, really.
Kate named the dog Chuck, and the first thing Chuck did when we got home from dog shopping was pee on my rug and yip loudly over and over. I glared at him, while Kate cooed at him, admonishing him like she would a child and telling him that they needed to get some long training hours in. She really did look set on doing so, and once she’d organized everything I’d brought home and Chuck was happily eating on the area beside the balcony sliding door we set up for him, an idea popped in my head.
“Any chance you want to take a paid job for dog-keeping?” I asked.
Kate shot me a look. “I’m doing this for free. No need to pay me.”
She might as well have said that money wasn’t an issue, and I realized I must have touched a chord. Paul did mention that she was still ticked for getting fired over the ex’s doing—which, if it happened to me, I would probably also be ticked off about. Not wanting to offend her, I decided on a different course of action.
“Want to go out and have some casual dinner? I owe you one.”
She shot me yet another look, and so I clarified with a grin, “I’m not asking you out. Just a friendly dinner.”
“Oh,” Kate said. She looked at Chuck, who had now happily finished his dog meal and was warily approaching me.
Chuck and I looked at each other in silence, almost as if waiting for some movement. It was him who made a move first, sniffing my shoes before tentatively licking one. I frowned but let him do so until he became more enthusiastic, then began to grow bolder by rubbing his whole body down my ankle.
Jesus.
“Are you a cat or a dog?” I muttered.
Kate giggled, obviously pleased. “I think it’s delightful.” She turned to me with twinkling eyes, and she beamed all of a sudden. “I’m famished. Let’s go get dinner.”
I blinked. So the dog put all Kate’s wariness to rest?
This woman was so odd.
*****
We had dinner at the bar I took Paul to before, and I could tell Kate enjoyed the food very much. We chatted lightly about trivial stuff, and I asked about her work before she got here. Apparently, Kate was just as goal-oriented as Paul had been, having finished college a year early with a degree in creative writing. She mentioned the magazine she worked for in Los Angeles, and I waited for her to bring up the getting fired thing and what exactly happened. But she didn’t, and we both changed the topic and talked about Chuck instead, with Kate telling me the dos and don’ts when it came to dog care and me actually listening intently.
After that, there was really not much to talk about, so we just sat there in almost companionable silence and watched the comings and goings. A woman approached me a few minutes later, winking and looking me up and down almost suggestively. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Kate’s brow rose before she controlled her expression and hid her face behind her juice as the woman just went straight in and asked for my number.
The woman wasn’t my type, but I did my best to be pleasant, anyway. Just because my PR agent told me to lie low didn’t mean I was going to cut off all forms of communication, even if it was just flirting. That was just insane.
Kate clearly wasn’t used to this thing, as she subtly moved a few seats to the left so she wouldn’t be within earshot. While the woman was trying to charm me, I found myself eyeing Paul’s little sister with a critical eye.
Obviously, she wasn’t so little anymore. She also wasn’t that bad-looking, and I was surprised at just how good her figure was. She’d hidden it in her casual clothes, but now she was wearing a green summer dress that accentuated it and made her look less prim and more approachable. She was too short to be my type, but I guess I could see why her ex wouldn’t stop stalking her, considering how pretty she was and how smart she seemed—sweet, too, based on her interaction with my dog.
That didn’t mean that bastard ex was right in doing so.
It was pretty clear, though, that Kate wasn’t used to hanging out in bars. She looked awkward just eyeing her orange juice and sipping every once in a while, and she obviously looked a little bit bored. Just as I was about to ask her if she wanted to come back here and have an actual conversation instead of sitting all by her lonesome, my thoughts were halted when I watched a man suddenly approach her out of nowhere.
He seemed to be in his thirties and seemed to be dressed up good—unfortunately, he also seemed to be the type who picked up women often. I knew a guy who simply wanted a hookup at the back of my hand, and I wasn’t surprised when he smiled and began turning on the charm right away. I made the usual non-committal responses to the woman beside me but kept my attention as Kate listened to the guy.
I expected her to be all tough, like how she handled me back in the apartment. Confident, maybe flashing a smile and responding to his flirting if she was interested. Imagine my shock when Kate did none of that, instead mumbling something that sounded like a half-hearted attempt at making conversation. The guy wasn’t deterred, and when he began to brag about the places he could take her and she looked clearly uncomfortable, I realized that it wasn’t that she disliked him.
She didn’t seem to know how to actually flirt back.
The guy kept on, and I heard words about him taking her back to his place to let her see his art collection. Art collection, my ass. Some protective instinct surged in me, especially when Kate looked like she was taken aback by the proposal and was anxiously trying to find the polite words to refuse. Without further ado, I gave the woman beside me—whose name I hadn’t even asked yet—an apologetic smile and told her that maybe we could catch up next time. Then I was sliding down the stools until I was sitting beside Kate, cutting the guy mid-sentence as he stared at me.
I stared back. Then I turned to Kate and flashed her a devilish grin. “Sorry I’m late, sweetheart. I got caught up in work. How was your day?”
The guy frowned. Kate frowned, too, but a few seconds later she was clearing her throat and responding. “It was…good. How was yours?”
It didn’t take a genius to realize what was going on, and the guy mumbled an apology before backing off and disappearing into the crowd. I took a sip of my drink and shot Kate a look. “What was that all about?”
She groaned. “That was me telling myself to have some fun and flirt with some guy for once in my life.”
I shot her a look back. “Obviously, you need some practice.”
Kate glared. “I bet you know a lot about that.”
Her attitude was back, and for some reason, it amused me. I found myself grinning—then taking her up on the challenge. “I do, in fact. And that orange juice you’re having isn’t going to help at all. Come on, Kate. Let’s have some fun.”
She groaned again, but I heard no protest. I decided to start from there and took the first step.
I ordered her a margarita.