IV
Barking Up The Wrong Tree
(Brady)
So much for an easy catch.
Maybe I should’ve thought this through. I shouldn’t have put her on the spot in her workplace like that, then and there. That was my bad.
But I’m not giving up.
I scroll through Lena Joly’s social media accounts, flicking between Instagram, X, Facebook, and LinkedIn. None have much activity.
Damn. All I need to know is how to make a pitch that will seal this deal. I need a hint of her interests, her dreams, her situation.
What am I missing?
Some old LinkedIn posts liking professional articles about breakthroughs in veterinary medicine. Her Facebook and Instagram are private, but she’s left some old posts up for a dog rescue place.
When I search Pawsome Hearts, she also appears in a few staff photos.
And that’s it.
Barely any followers. No pressure to post. No expectations from hungry followers waiting for you to boast about amazing deeds and show off lovable animals.
Jealousy knifes me hard.
What the hell is that like? A normal life? The only time people will accept a lack of presence from me is if I physicallycan’tpost.
Those times are getting rarer now, especially with Dad’s health. I damn sure don’t have much time to take off work.
Would my life be easier if I didn’t have to look so perfect? If I didn’t need to reinvent the playboy idiot who blew himself up too many times when he was young and stupid?
Still, seeing a few scraps about Lena’s life leaves me more convinced that she could be my answer, a way to stall my parents’ ridiculous demands.
A way to meet them onmyterms, or at least to give them the illusion.
She’s the kind of fresh, normal girl I need.
Passionate about dogs, bare-bones online presence, and damnably cute.
There’s no hiding her soft curves completely under her scrubs. My eyes feasted, everything from her chestnut hair on down through ample tits and a peach of an ass I’d kill to bite.
The menacing looks she gave me promising instant decapitation take nothing away from her appearance.
I just have to persuade her to make the craziest deal of her life—agree to date me long enough to take the pressure off.
Agree to fake date me for pure optics.
Agree to lie to my folks and the Seattle press so I won’t have to waste time with empty succubae like Nancy.
But what’s in it forher?
As I sip my coffee, I consider my plan.
She hasn’t warmed to me much, but we have animals in common. If I could just get her to understand that I mean it when I say I care about them ...
But I already know that’s a massive challenge. Even my parents don’t think I’m being serious.
