Jacob is sprawled out on the sectional in a pair of sweatpants asleep with half a bowl of popcorn balanced precariously on his washboard abs. The television is on HGTV, and he is softly snoring. Must be nice to be able to nap and snack out in front of the TV all day.

Jacob doesn’t have a normal Monday through Friday job. He is lucky enough to be able to earn a six-figure income on his good looks. Jacob is a model, an awesome one. His chiseled face, lean muscles, and rugged good looks have turned him into a highly- sought-after lumber-sexual model. He works out of LA but lives here in Seattle with me.

When I decided to relocate to Seattle to start the Bark Avenue Bone Bakery three years ago, he insisted on coming with me claiming I wouldn’t be safe without him. I know he loves me, but I’m pretty sure he was trying to make a clean break from his longtime boyfriend, Victor. Moving away was the perfect excuse.

It was a great decision for both of us. He got his freedom from Vic, I got my new business, and we both have a built-in best friend when we need a shoulder to cry on or a plus one. A total win, win.

Occasionally, I do get jealous of him, especially at times like this. I work seven days a week keeping the bakery successful, and I earn what he does flashing his pearly smile and sexy abs two, maybe three times a month.

Ninety-five percent of the time that’s not a problem. I enjoy working hard. The dog bakery is my life’s dream, and I’m thrilled it has done so well. But, on the rare occasion that I would like to enjoy a day off sleeping off a hangover, I am envious of Jacob’s freedom.

“Hey, sweet cheeks, how was work?” he asks stretching his arms over his head disrupting the bowl of popcorn. I grab it when I walk past the couch and place it on the kitchen island.

“More productive than your day it looks like.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you decided to go party with that flash from the past. I tried to tell you two nights in a row was a bad idea. Was the shop busy?”

“No, but there was this one customer who made my whole day.” I shrug out of my coat and kick off my snow boots. I drape my coat on the bar chair and shove my wet boots under it.

“Yeah? Did Trevon show up with another bottle of cheap tequila?”

I shiver at the thought of tequila and swallow back threatening vomit. “Stop, don’t say that word again unless you want to clean up puke.”

“Sorry, that bad, huh?”

I nod and stand next to the couch gesturing for him to move his legs so I can join him, which he does right away. “Yeah, I don’t remember most of it, but my stomach says it was awful.”

He makes a sympathetic sound, and I sit pulling my feet up under me next to him.

“So who was the guy who made your day then? Do I know him?”

“No, and neither do I. He was my first customer. He came in to buy dog treats for his Huskies and made an appointment to have them groomed tomorrow morning. Oh my God, Jacob, he was beautiful, like Greek-god beautiful except his eyes were this see-through kind of blue I’ve never seen before.”

Jacob sits up paying more attention now that we are talking hot guys. “And?”

“And he’s… he’s, I don’t know, magnetic, orgasmic, charismatic…”

“Automatic, systematic, funky fresh?” he says singing a verse from a Missy Elliott song.

“No, you don’t get it, Jacob. He’s filthy rich and hot, and the way he looked at me almost made me come.”

His eyebrows go up, and he lets out a long, slow whistle. “Rich? And you still thought he was hot? I’m shocked.”

I don’t like rich, pretentious people who act like they are better than anyone in a lower income bracket, and I never date men like that. I would make an exception for Mr. Wolfe. “Oh, and get this, his last name is Wolfe. Can you believe that? He’s the most animalistic, predatory man I’ve ever laid eyes on, and his name is Wolfe.”

“Nice. Olivia Renée Wolfe has a ring to it, don’t cha think?”

I lay my head back on the couch cushion and take a deep breath blowing it out. “You know I’m never getting married, right?”

“So you keep saying.”

I lift my head to look at him. “Then why do you keep trying to give me a new last name?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because I’ve never seen you so worked up over a man, especially a man you don’t know. Honey, if this man makes your heart pound and your panties wet, you might want to rethink your no rich guys and no wedding bells plan. That’s all I’m saying.”

“The only things I know about this man are his name and how many Siberian Huskies he owns. Oh, and that he’s a lawyer, and you’re already giving me his last name.”

“Somebody has got to plan out your emotional and sexual future since all you seem to focus on is your career. What’s the point of earning all that money if you don’t have anyone to share it with?”

“I have someone to share it with, you, stupid. I love you. We have a lot of fun together, and I don’t need anyone else.”

“Honey, unless you figure out how to grow a penis, I’m not the man who will make your emotional and sexual dreams come true. You need a partner, you’re not getting any younger, ya know.”

I open my mouth, and my eyes pop. I can’t believe he just said that to me. “Jacob, I’m twenty-seven-years old not fifty. I hardly think I’m in danger of becoming a spinster or a crazy cat lady. I’m fine being alone for now.”

“I think your honeypot would beg to differ.”

“Don’t you worry about my honeypot, it’s just fine.”

“So, Louie took care of you last night, did he?”

He would ask that. He knows I can’t remember shit about my night with my old friend. “You’re not nice.”

He scoots over to drape his arm across my shoulders. “I’m not trying to be mean, honey, just honest and realistic. I want you to be happy in all aspects of your life, not just one or two.”

I lay my head on his shoulder. “I know what you mean, but honestly, right now I’m good.”

He taps the end of my nose with his finger. “And when the big bad Wolfe takes you home to his den to eat you alive, you’ll be much better.”

I slap his rock-hard abs, and he yells in mock pain. “The truth may hurt, but it’s not supposed to hurt me!”

“No Wolfe is taking me home, and he certainly isn’t eating me alive. I’m sure he will pick up his dogs tomorrow, and that’ll be the last I see of him.”

“Until he takes them for a run through a mud puddle, so they have to come back for another bath next week, and the week after that.”

“Okay, enough out of you. I’m going to get a glass of wine and take a long bath before bed, and you can sit out here and watch HGTV all by yourself.”

I stand up to do just that, and he grabs my hand. “Please don’t leave me here alone with the Property Brothers. I need you,” he begs dropping to the floor on his knees.

I narrow my eyes. “Okay, I’ll get us both a glass of wine, and you can rub my feet until bedtime. And no more talking about relationships.”

“Agreed.”

“I love you,” I say, and I do, but I almost love his foot massages more.

“Love you too, babe.”