“Oh. Good. Then I hope your next job is less exciting.”
“It’s overseas.”
The corners of her mouth tighten. “Did Abby Nora send you?”
“What?”
“Never mind. Enjoy overseas.”
She was overseas. Wonder if she misses it.
I miss it. Been a long five years since I left the league in the UK to come home and take care of Caden. “I will, but that’s why I’m here.”
She glances down and seems to realize I’m holding her résumé in my hand.
I get another look.
Awhat the fuck is going on?look.
“I need a dog sitter,” I say quickly.
She speaks Spanish.
Don’t want her thinking I need a personal translator.
Wait.
Did I tell her I was going to Spain?
No, I just saidoverseas. She’d only know it was Spain if someone told her, and I doubt Ziggy got specific,accurateinformation about me from anyone last night.
If she asked.
Which she probably didn’t.
She stares at me blankly. “Have you looked at pet-sitting websites?”
Fuck.
She’s probably not a dog person.
“I was going to board her, but she’s not the type who will like that.”
“Is this a thing where you assume that since you saw me eating chicken like a dog wouldone time, that I must want a second job as a dog sitter?”
I’m the goddamn captain of a rugby team. I’m thewiseone. The guy who solves other people’s problems. The guy that the other guys come to for advice. Advice on women. Sports. Buying a car. Picking jobs in the off-season.
And I can’t spit out what I actually want when I’m standing in front of Ziggy Barnes.
“Watching my dog comes with staying in my house. I’m offering you a place to stay while I’m out of town if you’ll watch my dog.”
“That’s very kind of you?—”
I hate that phrase.Hateit. “Why’d you leave the cruise line?”
“Because when you’re puking every day, the guests get concerned about norovirus.”
“You puked every day for seven years?”
