Archie’s Daddy:
I have no idea how I’ll get through life without you.
“Okay, Archie, it’s time for your close-up.” I turn around, but the little guy’s vanished. “Shit,” I say with a sigh. I guess it’s time to play hide-and-seek again.
Twenty frustrating minutes later, I find him.
“Oh, Archie,” I say, fighting back a grin. I take a photo and type out today’s message.
Me:
Here’s Archie’s proof of life. It’s also proof that your dog’s an asshole. A lovable asshole, but an asshole just the same. I’m sorry about your linen closet. I don’t know how he got into it or how he climbed into the basket of lace tablecloths. I also don’t know why anyone needs so many embroidered linen sheets with monograms. I hope you won’t miss the ones Archie destroyed. I managed to save most of them. You’re welcome.
I attach the picture I took of Archie buried in a basket of linens, his ears askew. I press send and am surprised to see dots to show typing right away. I wait, watching the screen until a message appears.
Archie’s Daddy:
Archie’s welcome to all the linens. I’m not as fond of monogramming as my grandmother was. Show him the blue drawing room. There are some truly hideous vases that are expendable in there.
Or I can show you them myself. I need to visit the house for a few weeks in July. I’ll give you the details of my arrival soon. Don’t worry, this won’t affect your job. I just have some things to take care of, and then I’ll be gone again.
CHAPTER 4
Daisy
(TEN YEARS AGO)
Dear Diary,
I’ve said for years that I wanted to leave home and never look back. I finally got the guts to go. My mom’s pervert boyfriend came into my bedroom last night. I got away because she arrived home early—high, of course. But I’m afraid I won’t be as lucky the next time.
So I did something wild.
I found Chase. I stalked his fan forums and found his home address. I took the money I’ve been saving, packed a bag, and made it out to Malibu. I almost turned back when I saw all those gates. But I’m tired of playing the sad victim in my crappy life. I want to be the heroine who overcomes obstacles and kicks ass.
I snuck past the guards, hid in a hedge, and then crawled behind a delivery van. I even scaled a small wall. I was almost victorious. I made it as far as the back patio ofChase’s mansion when I got caught. A guard tried dragging me away. That’s when my dramatic side kicked in. I screamed in outrage that Chase James was my brother and that I wasn’t going anywhere.
The guard didn’t buy my act. But then Ryder Black—THE Ryder Black—opened the door, saw me being manhandled by the guard, and did something amazing that changed my life.
It also started my free fall into love with him.
(NOW)
Pet-sitting will be easy, Emma said.
Pet-sitting will be a breeze.
Ha.
After being a pet sitter for more than a month, now, I can confidently say it is neither easy nor a breeze.
Emma may be scarily efficient and organized, a Machiavellian boss babe armed with truly fabulous stilettos, a laptop, and a clipboard, but she’s mistaken about just how easy pet-sitting a naughty corgi is, no matter how cute.
“Archie. Archie!Come.Here,” I call through gritted teeth, trying to sound both upbeat and forceful because he can sense weakness in any form.
He runs past me, tongue out, tail wagging gleefully as if confounding me is his best game ever. Because I swear it is.
“Archie! Stop!” I cry, giving up any pretense of cheer or control. I’ve been chasing the pup around the outdoor patio for the last twenty minutes after he escaped his bath. Unfortunately, the wet dog immediately dove headfirst into the garden, digging blissfully before rolling around in the dirt. Then he jumped from one white patio chair to another with his mud-caked fur and paws.
