Chapter 5

Brooke

As my car hugs every curve in the winding road around Prior Lake, Ed Sheeran and Beyoncé harmonize the lyrics to “Perfect.” I love the song. It makes me feel all tingly inside. Too bad a man can’t make me feel the way a beautifully composed song can.

As the last notes fade away, he pops into my mind. I shake my head and grimace.

I broke up with Chad seventeen months ago after we were together for nearly two years. He was ideal in so many ways, from his emerald eyes to his eight pack. The man had the most amazing abs I had ever seen. Licking them used to be one of my favorite pastimes. Chad had a meticulous workout regime. He woke up every morning at five o’clock to hit the gym before heading to work at his law firm.

I’d been wrongly convinced that our love was real. But looking back, I was more in love with the idea of Chad than the man himself. The thought of marrying a handsome, successful lawyer almost made me overlook the fact that he barely made time for our relationship. When he forgot my birthday, the camel’s back had split in two when confronted with the last straw. And when he’d brushed my hurt aside as if it was no big deal, I’d ended things. And even then, he didn’t seem to care.

I know I need someone who is fully present. Hell, can he at least remember my birthday? That’s not asking too much of a steady boyfriend, is it? Still, I’m in no rush to take up with a new guy. Focusing on work makes me happy.

It does.

At thirty-two, I’d be a fool to completely ignore my biological clock. But I refuse to settle. I’d rather be single than to be alone in my own relationship. I made a promise to myself, and I intend to keep it. Will I die a lonely, old lady surrounded by my herd of dogs? Perhaps. It wouldn’t be the worst thing.

At the stoplight, I check my reflection in the vanity mirror. I’m about to meet a world-famous author in a few minutes. I want to make sure I’m camera ready for a selfie. If he’ll agree to it, I’ll set my shame to the side.

Or maybe that’s a bad idea. I don’t want to come across as a groupie and mark myself as unprofessional. My business reputation is on the line. But do authors even have groupies? I shake my head and snap myself back to the present moment. I’m overthinking this whole meeting. But I can’t help it.

It’s W. Ellis Cole!

Honk! The car behind me causes me to jump a little. I didn’t even notice that the light turned green. Too busy with thoughts of W. Ellis Cole, who for all I know would make a great date for my grandmother.

I put my foot on the gas and make my way to Cole’s house. It’s a gorgeous castle by the lake, although a little run-down. It could use some taming of the wild lawn, a new coat of paint, and some brick repair. In its present condition, I doubt even Mary Schweich could sell it. As I slide my Honda into the driveway, I notice a shiny silver BMW in the open garage.

He must’ve sold a ton of books, I think with an admiring glance as I approach the front door. I ring the doorbell and wait. My heart threatens to gallop out of control. I’m so damn nervous, I can hardly think straight. Shaking my arms out at the elbows, I chastise myself for being a complete ninny. I’ve never gotten nervous for an appointment, even for aggressive dogs that like to bite. I take a deep breath and try to look relaxed.

After what feels like forever, I hear dogs barking. The door opens, and I’m face-to-face with a breathtakingly handsome, tall man with boyish brown hair and intense dark eyes. They’re so brown they appear black. This can’t be Cole. Please, God, let this be some assistant. Butler. Second cousin twice removed. Anyone other than Cole. I wave and smile at him, trying not to look stupid.

He quickly shuts the door behind him, lowering the cacophony of barking to a manageable roar. He extends his hand to me. “Hi, Brooke, nice to meet you, I’m W. Ellis Cole, also known as Landon. I use a pen name, it’s a long story, but I don’t want to bore you with all of that.”

“Hi.” Don’t just stand there, looking like a dope. Fucking say something intelligent! “It’s…nice to…meet you, Mr. Co…Landon.”

He grins, and my knees grow weak. “Please, come in.”

I follow him inside. Glancing around, I admire the interior. Marble floors, mahogany woodwork, soaring ceilings. And the piece de resistance of every single home on this exclusive street, a breathtaking view of Prior Lake from each and every picture window. It’s a beautiful home with a woman’s touch. There’s a collection of old books on a shelf in the office to my right. Some family photos and knickknacks in the living room. Even magnets on the stainless-steel fridge. I’m sure he’s married.

Calm down, Brooke. He’s definitely claimed by someone else. Someone far more beautiful than you.

“So, like I told you, I’ve been having some trouble with my dogs…” Four Chihuahuas bolt into the living room like a thundering herd, barking and wagging their little tails. They are adorable. I fall in love before I can take another breath. Landon points at them one-by-one. “Meet Taco, Burrito, Chili, and Fajita.”

“Hey, boys.” I kneel to pet them. They cozy up to me, relishing in the affection. Their long hair feels like silk running through my fingers. They’re gorgeous. Anyone with any dog experience can tell these are top of the line purebred dogs. It’s a shame they’re not being utilized for breeding anymore. Landon would do well to get the two males fixed. I don’t have the heart to tell him yet that Burrito and Taco are bitches.

Landon points to Taco. “This one has a serious problem.”

“What is it?” I look up at him fully expecting him to say the dog has bitten him.

“He’s always licking my hair. Taco is obsessed with freshly shampooed hair. Every time I get out of the shower, he tries to climb me like a freakin’ tree and licks my hair until I have to shampoo it again!”

I laugh because he’s done something a person rarely does while in my presence. Surprise me about their dog.

“It’s not funny,” he grumps, stepping back and glaring at the cute little furball and then back at me again. I’m not sure which one of us has incited his annoyance. “Not at all.”

“I know, sir. It’s just that…” Backpedaling has never been my strong suit. I’m so good at what I do, and so in love with people, I rarely have to. Something about this guy rankles me, despite his hot as hell exterior.

“Sir?” He pulls himself up to his full height until he’s looming over my diminutive frame. “Do I look old enough to be a ‘sir?’”

I shake my head. Landon looks to be somewhere solidly in his thirties. He keeps himself in shape too. And I couldn’t help but notice his nice buns in those designer jeans, and the way the dark rinse denim clings to his muscular thighs. Before I can stop it, my tongue darts out to moisten my dry lips. I try not to get distracted.

“That’s a relief.”

Landon smiles, showcasing a perfect dimple in each cheek. Now, my tongue yearns to dart out and lick each indentation. I want to taste him. I want to run my hands down his back to land on his perfect ass. I want to…

“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?”

After an awkward pause, I realize he actually asked me a question and is waiting for a verbal response. The man’s struck me stupid. “That’s not my style. I need to run out to my car and grab my bag.” I open the door. “Be right ba–”

In a blur of movement, Burrito makes a run for the open door. I snap out of my lust-filled haze long enough to chase after him. “Oh God! I hope he doesn’t head for the highway! What’s his name again?”

“Burrito.” Landon trails after me, slamming the door behind us to alleviate the challenge of more escapees.

“Burrito! Burrito!” I call out and search for the dog. “Does he know any basic commands? Recall? Anything?”

Landon doesn’t offer much by way of help, and I start to wonder how he truly feels about these dogs. “Don’t worry. He won’t run away.”

“Are you sure?” I stumble to a stop at his mailbox, huffing out a huge breath as my lungs protest the exertion and the fear.

“He has a thing for digging in the trash. He’ll be back in no time. I promise. I’d even bet my life on it.”

For the first time in my career, I wonder if I’ve made a mistake taking this gig. I didn’t count on four tiny dogs and an owner that doesn’t seem to give a shit. Most people consider their dogs as family and will do whatever it takes to achieve the end result they desire. Landon’s just…apathetic at best. “Well, from the looks of it, you really have your hands full.”

He snorts out a laugh and follows me around as I continue to search for and call the little dog. “That’s an understatement. Please tell me you can help. I refuse to take no for an answer. I’m a desperate man. Whatever you want, it’s yours. Money. Jewelry. My firstborn.”

I can’t help it. I smile wide. He’s absolutely adorable, and I can’t help but be drawn to him, even though his lack of concern about his dog rankles me deep inside.

I whistle and clap my hands. “So, you’re saying you don’t already have a firstborn? I’ll take that under advisement. But no extra money or bribery will be necessary. Of course, I can help you. If it makes you feel any better, I’ve seen far worse.”

“Really?” He raises an eyebrow. My stomach flips over, and I really hope I’m not blushing. I turn tomato-red when I blush. Not a sexy look, even though I’m not trying to look sexy for this hottie.

I’m not.

“Sure, this is totally manageable.” I struggle to keep my tone light and professional so I can instill some confidence into this sideways situation. Dogs like a routine, and clearly, they have none in Landon’s household.

“That’s a relief. I was at my wit’s end. Really.”

After walking the entire yard, we head back to his house, hoping the little dog will come back to where he’d escaped. As we walk, I pose a question since I just can’t help myself. “If you don’t mind my asking, I know this is totally off base…but what’s your favorite book that you’ve written?”

“That’s a tough one. They’re all like children.”

I’ve never created something like that, so I don’t really understand his meaning, although I suppose it’s like my clients and their dogs. I love them all. “You love them too much to choose?”

“Not exactly, maybe kids were the wrong analogy. I’m very close to all of my books because every single character I write has a piece of me inside of them. I think it’s impossible for authors not to pour every single emotion into the work for the sake of the work. When I finally type the end, I’m wiped.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I can be a sort of an A-type personality, especially when it comes to my work. Otherwise, I’m pretty laid back.”

When I remember the chaos in his household, I have a hard time believing him. I wonder if he’s one of those people who can’t see the forest for the trees. “That’s fascinating. I’ve always been curious about what it takes to sit there and actually write an entire book. The most I’ve ever done since college is bang out a couple of blogs on training tactics for my website.”

“The first book took me forever to write. I struggled to just get a page or two a day in. But the process gets a little easier with each book. And now, fourteen books later, it’s like second nature to me. Writing’s a muscle you need to flex daily.”

“That’s amazing.” I gaze into his eyes and hope I’m not coming on too strong. He looks at me as if he’s interested in what I have to say. Is he checking me out? Nah, it can’t be that. I’m seeing things just because I want to. “What you do is fascinating.”

He takes a step closer to me, and the hair raises on my arms. His eyes soften as he gazes down at me. “I love being a writer. I wouldn’t choose another profession. Besides, I don’t think I’m good at much else at this stage of the game. Forty is right around the corner.”

Once the floodgates of questions spewing from my mouth open, I can’t seem to dam them up. “Did you like the movie they made of your book with Keanu Reeves?”

“I liked the check.”

I chuckle as I admire his sparkling eyes. “Is that your way of saying no?”

“It wasn’t a bad movie, per se. There’s just only so much you can explore with the medium of film. In books, we can totally immerse our readers into our created world by engaging all of their senses. Most movies about books are kinda like cliff notes, in my humble opinion.”

“That’s a good point. I’ve never really looked at it that way.” Speaking of all the senses, I can’t help but notice his cologne. The musky, citrusy scent tickles my nostrils and makes my knees wobble. A man who smells good gets my lady bits vibrating on a visceral level.

“But I have zero regrets. As soon as my agent sent the check, I went right down to the dealership and bought the Beemer of my dreams with heated seats and a heated steering wheel. Here in Minnesota, both have come in very handy.”

“I bet. Minnesota, the state where three months of the year you can freeze ice on your own ass.”

“You betcha.” He slips right into his best accent. “Hand me some of that tater tot hot dish.”

I laugh at his effort. “Minnesota can get downright frigid.” I follow him through his front door and my gaze immediately lands on the huge fireplace, and I picture us sitting there on the rug with his arm around me, warming me from within.

Stop it, Brooke! Keep it professional.

Grabbing the leashes, I hook three to the remaining dogs so we can leave the door open for the missing one. I decide to put the focus back where it belongs. “But you were right about your books. Kids were a bad analogy.”

“Yep, especially seeing as how I don’t have any. I made a comparison that even I don’t understand.”

“Sure, you do.” I pet the dogs and speak in my best soothing voice. “Doesn’t Daddy love you?”

He snorts. “That’s a good one. If this is what parenthood looks like, I want no part of it.”

“You don’t mean that.” I search his eyes, hoping against hope that he’s not serious.

“I absolutely do.”

I switch tactics. “So, what possessed you to go out and get these angels?”

“Angels?” He chuckles. “That’s a very long story. Actually–”

Before Landon can finish, Burrito bursts through the front door with a creamy colored object dangling from his tiny lips. I can’t place it, so I step closer, holding out my hand toward the dog. As he gets closer, he spits it out about two inches away from my Keds. My nostrils flare, and I hiss in a breath. The corners of my mouth tug and tug, in a war between disgust and amusement. If I smiled, it would be one of the rudest things I’ve ever done. The minuscule plastic tube is a used condom. I’ve never seen anything so small. It looks like Burrito used it.

I glance over at Landon. Blood rushes to his face, and his fingers twitch. After a few embarrassing seconds, he points at the thing. “That’s not mine.”

I bite the inside of my mouth until I taste blood, trying like hell to hold my laughter inside. “Dogs don’t wear condoms, so no harm, no foul.”

“You’ve…you…you have to believe me. Oh God! Please, believe me. He’s a garbage rummager. He’s like a dog version of the trashman.”

“Don’t worry about it, Landon. I’m not here to judge your personal life, I’m just here to help teach your dogs basic obedience.” I make my way outside, holding the leads of all three dogs, the fourth one in my arms. Snagging his leash too, I step out in the cool air.

I stare in amazement. In the few minutes we’ve been inside, Burrito has made a mess in the front yard. Trash is strewn all over the lawn. A McDonald's wrapper here. A floating Kleenex there. Burrito has been busy as a bee. I can’t hold back another second, and a smile overtakes my face.

Landon follows me, stooping over to pick up items as he goes. “How in the hell did he do all this in a few minutes?”

I laugh and put Burrito on his leash before placing him on the ground with his siblings. For the first time, I notice a storage shed. A flash of green catches my eye, and I walk a few steps toward it so I can peek inside, the little dogs trying to pull in different directions. The open door reveals hundreds of boxes of Girl Scout cookies.

Oh God, it’s him!

I can’t believe that my favorite author is the douchebag from the grocery store that Pam described. I tighten my arms around Burrito, who is trying to escape again.

W. Ellis Cole, you just broke my heart.

I want to just leave and tell him to stick his private lessons where the sun doesn’t shine, but not until I confront him. I point to the cookies. “What are you doing with all of those?”

He captures a skittering Q-tip in his hand and turns to glare at me. “What’s it to you?”

“I’m just curious.”

If Landon were an animal, he’d be a porcupine. Every single part of him bristles with a sharp barb. “If you must know, I couldn’t care less. I don’t even eat sugar.”

“How dare you fuck with the Girl Scouts. Who does that?”

He rocks back on his heels, glaring at me. “It’s really not any of your business, is it?”

“Asshole,” I mumble under my breath. “I hope your little dogs piss all over your leg.”

On my way to the appointment, I was so excited I could hardly contain myself. I was ready to shamelessly beg for an autograph and a selfie. But now, I’m appalled to discover that Landon, aka W. Ellis Cole, turned out to be the asshole from the grocery store. I wish Dave Chromy would have called the cops on his pompous ass. He’s one of those famous people who thinks the world revolves around him just because he wrote a couple of best-selling books.

Well, my world doesn’t revolve around him and it never will. Not one more second.

The craziest part is that I just assumed that the Girl Scout cookie douchebag was some grumpy old guy, and the elderly can be cut a bit of slack. They can rarely hear or see that well anymore, and many of them have dementia. I never dreamed Thin Mint douche would be so hot. I’m pissed off beyond words. All I want to do is walk away from him and never look back, but that would be unprofessional. Bark Buddies can’t pay the price for my annoyance.

I look down at the little dogs surrounding me. These little guys can’t pay the price either.