Scarlett
I’d known Nick and I were from different worlds, but seeing his condo drives the point home. The opulent high-rise screams money with its grand entry, luxury amenities, and around-the-clock concierge. I’d felt like an intruder when I entered the lobby earlier, the disconcerting gaze of the front desk manager tracking my every move.
When I enter the lobby for the second time, he barely glances my way. Apparently, seeing Oreo has eased any concern about whether I belong at the posh address.
Yeah, because he thinks you’re the dog walker.
Whatever. Technically, I am the hired help. There’s no shame in that, and I refuse to feel bad about earning a paycheck to support myself. Head held high, I escort Oreo to the elevator and punch the button for Nick’s penthouse.
Only the best for Austin’s most uptight billionaire.
After a quick ascent, Oreo and I let ourselves into Nick’s place with a gentle knock. We find him on his hands and knees scrubbing a stain out of the living room carpet. It’s got to be a first, and I’m tempted to snap a pic, but I doubt he’d find it amusing.
I quickly scan the main living area. He made decent progress while we were gone. All the torn pillows have been cleared away, and the broken planter I spotted earlier is nowhere to be seen, though dirt and stuffing still cover the hardwood floor.
I utter a silent prayer that Oreo’s exhausted her energy supply because girl did some serious damage today.
No such luck.
She takes one look at Nick and runs straight to him, backside wiggling with excitement as she licks his cheek.
He gives her a grudging smile and scratches behind her left ear. My pulse flutters like a hummingbird because despite Nick’s complaints—and there have been many over the last two days—Oreo appears to be growing on him. The realization has my heart melting like queso Oaxaca.
Nope. No melting. Not for Nick Hart.
Right. I came here to help get Oreo settled, not swoon over the grumpy CEO.
Of course, if I’d known he’d be sweat slick and wearing a pair of thin athletic shorts that show off the perfect globes of his backside, I might’ve taken my time getting here.
Or, better yet, stayed home.
“Are you planning to help, or are you just going to stare at my ass all night?” Nick asks, voice smooth and possibly amused.
Busted.
My spine stiffens and heat floods my cheeks, but there’s only one thing to do in this situation: deny, deny, deny. “I am not staring at your ass. I was trying to decide where to start.”
He leans back on his haunches, shorts pulled tight across his muscular thighs, and smirks. “Literally anywhere.” He gestures to encompass the open-concept living area.
“Broom?” Because apparently he’s reduced me to single syllables. Not sure if it’s the sexy smirk or the ass, but I need to put some space between us.
Right. Freaking.Now.
“There should be one in the laundry room. Third door on the right.”
I nod and hotfoot it down the hall, Oreo close on my heels.
No creeping on the boss, perv.
Clean up. Review basic dog care. Get the hell out.
I can’t afford to risk my job or my capstone for a one-night stand, no matter how great the ass.
Plan decided, I grab the broom from a closet in the laundry room. Oreo flops down on an old towel, making herself comfortable.
“Smart girl.” It might be best for her to stay out of sight while we clean up the mess.
I return to the living room, where Nick’s finished scrubbing the rug.
