“Slow down, boy.”
Between his supersonic speed, coordination of a drunken gazelle, and turning his head to address Decker, Taters tripped over his rhino feet and crashed into Poppy like a wrecking ball, sending them both flying into the pool with a gigantic splash.
“Fuck.”
Decker had his work boots off and was running toward the pool when Poppy’s head broke the surface. She was sputtering water while struggling to hold up a hundred-and-eighty-pound deadweight of a dog who knew jack shit about how to doggie paddle.
Heart going a million miles a minute, while every possible scenario went through his head, Decker hollered, “Hang on. I got you,” then swan dived into the deep end of the pool.
By the time he reached Poppy she was standing at the steps with Taters on her hip like a scared toddler. Taters was nuzzling his big snout into her neck and she was rubbing his back while he shivered.
“You’re okay,” she cooed.
Taters let out a sigh and that’s when Decker knew that damn dog was faking it for female attention. He had to admit though, for this particular female, Decker might have feigned drowning, too.
“Sorry about that,” Decker said. “He gets overly excited at times and forgets he weighs nearly two-hundred pounds.”
“That’s just more to love,” she said in a baby voice, giving Tater some chin scratches, which the dog ate up.
“Seriously though, are you okay?”
“No worse for wear.” She laughed. “Just a little wet and?—”
She turned and stopped. “You! What areyoudoing onmyset?”
“Your set, huh? What are you, the interior decorator?” he asked, even though he knew she was a hell of a lot more than that. But he wanted to get a rise out of her.
Emerald-green slits met his gaze. “Because I’m a woman all I can do is create color palettes? Maybe if I had my own sex tape you’d take me more seriously. I’ve been flipping houses while you’ve been flipping your stick all around town.”
That barb was like a bowling ball to the gut. He hated that her first impression of him was that he wasthatkind of guy. Why should it matter what he did or didn’t do before they met? So what if he had a past—even if he was being blamed for a past that wasn’t his? Everyone had a past. It just really sucked that she was judging him for things that were already done rather than seeing him for the guy standing in front of her.
Well, he’d just have to change that.
“Seriously though, showing up at my work,” he said. “That’s a bold statement. I’m flattered.”
Taters loped out of the pool and she followed, having now idea how her drenched clothes clung to her body.
“Dream on.”
“So we’re sharing dreams now. Does it include the color of your bra?” He leaned in and smiled. “It’s red, by the way.”
“How did you?—?”
She followed his gaze to her top, which was now tissue thin. Her hands covered her breasts, like that Janet Jackson picture from back in the nineties. “Can we pretend we’re grownups for one minute?”
“What’s the fun in that?”
“I’m supposed to meet my boss in ten minutes,” she said, and an unsettling feeling started in his gut. Seriously, what were the odds of a blind date and now this? “And I look like I just participated in a wet T-shirt contest.”
“Angel, you look like you won.”
She stumbled over her next words, letting him know he’d flustered her. He liked her flustered. “This is not the look I was going for. So if you’ll kindly fuck off.”
“Can’t. I’m meetingmyboss in ten minutes,” he said, confident that Jessika would come through.
That brought her up short. “You mean Jack?”
“Yup.”
