It’s not completely implausible since I’m known for doing all sorts of odd jobs around the island. I work as a bartender atRumrunnerfull-time but in the winter, when the tourism slows down, I need to supplement my income.
Melanie crosses her arms over her chest and purses her lips. It’s not a good look on her. “If you’re dog-sitting, why have I seen you with this beast for the entire year you’ve been living in this building?”
I shrug. “Because I dog-sit for him more often.”
“You’re lying. And once I prove you’re lying, I’ll tell the landlord.”
“There’s no reason to tell the landlord since I’m not lying.” I’m also not crossing my fingers behind my back. Lie. I’m totally crossing my fingers behind my back. It never hurts to hedge your bets.
She narrows her eyes. “I heard your dog barking and thumping his tail this morning.”
“I told you. I’m dog-sitting.” There. I didn’t lie this time. Go me.
She wags her finger at me. “One of these days, your lying is going to get you in trouble. And I’ll be there to witness it.”
I beam at her. “How nice you want to witness me living my life.”
My phone beeps. Uh oh. It’s probably Lana asking where I am. “It was lovely seeing you. But I’m in a hurry this morning.”
“When aren’t you in a hurry?” she mutters as we pass her.
I ignore her snarky comment. No good can come from my response. Besides, I’ve hit my limit of lying for the day and it’s not yet ten o’clock.
And it’s possible she may be correct. I am always in a hurry. But it’s not my fault. I have a lot going on in my life. Hurrying is a necessity.
I make my way to the beach with Boozer. I hope I don’t get kicked out of my apartment because the proximity to the beach is awesome.
I keep a tight hold on Boozer’s leash as we meander toward the water. My phone beeps again. Oops. I forgot all about the earlier message.
I dig my phone out.
You’re late.
I start to respond but then Boozer barks and yanks on the leash. I tighten my grip and dig my heels into the sand, but he’s stronger than me. Way stronger.
“Boozer, no.”
He lunges anyway, muscles straining, tail wagging at the rabbit twitching his nose at him from the dune grass.
“Don’t you dare.”
He dares.
The leash jerks, and I go flying forward. I release him at the last second before I face-plant. Sand fills my mouth and my nose.
Boozer tears off in hot pursuit.
Thirty minutes later, after chasing him through most of the island’s beaches and muttering threats of obedience school, I finally knock on Pam’s door. Pam dog-sits Boozer when I have to work. She opens it, takes one look at me – hair wild, shirtcovered in sand, mascara smudged like raccoon eyes – and her mouth drops open.
“I can explain.”
Chapter 3
“Motorcycles don’t come with baby seats.”
Zane
Iplace the baby in the carrier.
