Thank God for small favors.
I sweep up the spilled dirt, which is more like a tiny mountain—what kind of plant made this mess anyway?—and my attention drifts to the wall of windows overlooking the city. The condo has a breathtaking view of downtown Austin and Lady Bird Lake, a manmade reservoir on the Colorado River. The sun has set and the bright city lights are reflected on the water below, turning the river into a shimmering kaleidoscope of color.
It’s a million-dollar view to be sure.
One I could never afford.
Which is why you need to keep your eye on the prize.
Easier said than done when Nick’s sauntering around the room in those gray shorts, bending over every few seconds to pick up fluffy white stuffing.
“Thanks for walking Oreo.” He grabs the dustpan and squats down so I can sweep the dirt into the plastic tray.
Look at us being all domestic.
“No problem.” I grin down at him. “Just don’t make a habit of calling for reinforcements. I won’t always be around to bail you out.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he says drily, carrying the dustpan to the sleek white kitchen where he empties it into the trash. “But I wouldn’t say no to another lesson in puppy care.”
I open my mouth to respond, but he holds up a hand.
“After tonight, I think I’ve got rule number one down. Puppies must be walked every two hours—”
“Until they’re house trained,” I finish. After all, repetition is key to learning. “You also need to make sure you’re playing with her regularly. It’ll help get some of the excess energy out.”
He quirks a brow and kneels down to collect another tray of dirt. “Is that what this is? Excess energy?”
“She’ll outgrow it.”Probably.
All things considered, he’s taking the destruction in stride. His head hasn’t exploded, and he hasn’t blamed me yet, so #winning.
“The thing is, puppies can be spirited. And messy.” Which is completely at odds with Nick’s orderly lifestyle and his previously orderly condo. I steal another glance at the skyline as he scoops up more dirt and delivers it to the trash can in the kitchen.
The condo is cold, sterile, and reeking of a designer’s touch with contemporary gray couches, sleek tables, and elegant silk rugs I’d have to work five years to afford. There are no personal touches. It’s exactly the kind of place I might have imagined for him three weeks ago.
Now? It feels like a poor fit. Like it’s the image he wants to project and not who he really is deep down.
Maybe it’s a good thing Oreo chewed the table leg. It gives the place some character. Not to mention a lived-in feeling.
Something the penthouse is sorely lacking.
Because Nick spends all his time working.
“Maybe you should’ve led with that when yousuggested,” he says, making air quotes around the word, “I adopt Oreo.”
“I thought you wanted an office pet.” Because damn right I’m sticking with that fib.
“Riiight,” he drawls, rolling his eyes as I sweep the last of the dirt into the dustpan. “I hope you like Chinese food. I ordered dinner while you were out. As a thank-you for dropping everything to come help me and Oreo.”
I stiffen, gripping the broom so hard my knuckles turn white. Two meals in a week? It feels like a trap. “I’ll stay for dinner, but I still can’t take Oreo home with me.”
“Relax.” He rises to his feet, towering over me with that arrogant smirk fixed in place. “The thought never even crossed my mind.”
The admission doesn’t settle my nerves.
“You should take her on your morning runs with you,” I suggest. “It’ll help her get the energy out.”
Nick’s brows shoot up. “How did you know I was a runner?”
