The world seems to hold its breath. I watch with my hands clasped tightly over my mouth. Elena’s camera clicks relentlessly, but I barely register the sound.
Bash resurfaces with Winifred cradled in one arm, paddling toward the edge with the other. I nearly collapse in relief when he pulls himself out of the water and sets the soggy, but safe, dog onto the grass.
Winifred gives a mighty shake, spraying droplets everywhere, before trotting back to Mrs. Long.
“What just happened?” Elena asks, wide-eyed, her tablet poised mid-air.
I explain quickly, my voice shaky. “Pugs can’t swim well. Their flat faces make breathing while swimming nearly impossible. They just—” I stop, swallowing hard. “It’s really dangerous for them.”
“And your bather-fighter just saved the day?”
I nod. My gaze drifts to Bash, who’s wringing water out of his soaked shirt.
Elena grins and resumes typing. “This is going to make a fantastic addition to the article. Do I have your permission to include it?”
“I—of course.” My words come out in a stammer, because I’m still having trouble processing what just happened. “That would be fine.”
Elena thanks me, packs up her camera, and drives off, leaving me and Bash standing in the damp grass.
Bash trudges the rest of the way over to me, shaking water off him. He looks mildly annoyed, but I’m distracted because of course,of coursehe didn’t wear his scrubs today. He just had to wear a white, long-sleeve shirt and fully immerse himself in a retention pod, only to emerge looking like the BBC version of Mr. Darcy.
“Thank you for saving Winifred,” I mutter, still staring at his chest.
He scowls, shaking water off his arms. “Little beast just had to go for the water, didn’t it? Does this mean I have to bathe her all over again?”
I can’t help it. I laugh.
Mrs. Long approaches us with her dog. “I’m so sorry for the trouble. I don’t know what she was thinking.”
I take the leash from her. “Don’t worry. I’ll give her a quick shampoo and dry her off. She’ll be back to one-hundred percent in no time.”
She places a hand to her chest. “Bless your heart, dear. And you,” she says, turning to Bash. “Thank you so much for saving her.”
“Of course. It was my pleasure,” says Bash. Ever the charming gentleman.
Chapter Thirty-One
BASH
It’s only beena month since Elena’s story on Romilly’s business. But as soon as the headline,Fighter Saves Puppy From Drowning,graced November copies ofThe Meadow Bee,we’ve both been the talk of the town. I became somewhat of a big deal around Meadow Hills for my heroic act, and then shortly after, even more offers for sponsorship started coming through. My agent sent me a new one practically every day, until I couldn’t keep up anymore.
“It’s a good thing you saved that dog,” said Max. “That’s what every business has brought up in conversation with me so far.”
Romilly grinned at me. “I promise The Paw Spa will finally sponsor you in addition to your other admirers. After all, it’s practically your origin story.”
And the best part? She was more than able to afford sponsoring me. Once the article blew up, Agatha practically begged Romilly to take her back. Apparently, some of Agatha’s customers in Portland caught wind that they could get their dog bathed by a famous fighter (AKA, me) in Meadow Hills, and they left her for The Paw Spa. And not just the customers, but the groomers, too.
And I can’t deny, I’m more than thrilled Romilly hired them all, because now she has so much more time to herself. The woman actually eats now, and it’s such a relief.
“Will you please tell me where we’re going?” Romilly asks from the passenger seat of my Camaro.
My car is finally back in tip-top shape, which is a massive weight off my shoulders now that it’s snowing. I grin past the swarm of nerves in my stomach as I hit the gas on it. “No way.”
She crosses her arms. “We’re near Orangewood Estates. That’s where Addison and Perry live. Are we going to visit them?”
My smile only grows. “Nope.”
“Tell me, Bash.”
