Mandy blushes.
“The yacht will be ready to take you back to the mainland,” Linton assures her. “Perhaps Pepper would like to explore the grounds a bit more before you go? Your dress has been cleaned and pressed and is waiting for you in your quarters, Mandy. Will Salinger drop by your flat while you’re on the mainland, pick up a few more essentials for your return here? I do hope we’ll be seeing more of you.”
He offers her a small tangerine.
She peels it as I escort her and Pepper out the door from the sunroom that leads to the large linear porch by the pool. I drape my arm over the blanket Mandy still has wrapped round her shoulders, tucking her under my arm. She’s the perfect height.
The corgi sniffs at the grass along the edge of the pool deck.
“Not on the grass,” I tell the dog when she looks a little too interested in my lawn.
“That’s the con of a private island. You don’t have any neighbors whose yard you can have your dog ruin,” Mandy jokes.
For a second, I let myself pretend. Pretend that Mandy is who Linton thinks she is—a nice girl I’ve taken an interest in who might like me back, instead of my assistant whom I quasi-kidnapped and with whom I am currently brewing an HR nightmare.
But I have to keep her with me. I have to keep her safe.
“If you won’t tell me who he is for your sake, do it for your dog,” I tell Mandy, following Pepper toward the path down to the beach. “Think of your poor dog. She’s a basket case. Let me help her.”
“I’ve seen how you operate.” Mandy’s stubborn. “I don’t want that kind of help. You’ll just make everything worse.”
“No, I’ll make everything go away. Think about it,” I croon in her ear. “You’ll never have to look over your shoulder again. You can buy coffee without worrying if he’s going to show up, walk your dog in peace.”
“Pepper doesn’t like to walk.”
That much is true. We’ve barely made it halfway down the path, and Pepper has already flopped down on one of the stone steps.
“Come on, Pepper,” Mandy coaxes. “You ate bacon and a waffle and all of that cold chicken mix.”
The dog lets out a sorrowful whine. Mandy reaches down to pick her up.
“Just make her walk.” I blow out a breath.
“I’m not making her walk because she won’t.”
It’s a chilly Seattle morning. The clouds are moving back in. We seemed to have used up our monthly allotment of sun.
“She’s extremely attached to you,” I argue with Mandy as she lugs the dog down the steps to the beach. “If you keep walking, she’ll run after you eventually.”
“Gosh, I’d hate to see you with kids,” Mandy snaps at me.
“Me? I’d hate to seeyouwith kids. You’d spoil them rotten. Stop coddling your dog. Have a little faith in Pepper.” I grab the corgi from Mandy then take off at a run.
“Hey!” Mandy yells.
Down on the beach, the wind buffets me as I race away from Mandy. Farther away, I set Pepper down. She squints against the wind toward Mandy, who has the blanket clutched around her shoulders.
“Okay, Pepper, you’ve got this. Show Mandy you have what it takes.” I take off at a slow jog.
The dog ignores me.
“Dammit, Pepper.”
“Told you so!” Mandy yells as Pepper pants a few yards away from me. “If this is your big push to convince me to give up the name, it’s failing miserably.”
As soon as she hears Mandy’s voice, the dog takes off at a sprint. I race the corgi down the beach back to Mandy. When I reach her, I wrap my arms around Mandy, briefly spinning her around to stop myself.
“I told you so.” I huff out a laugh. “Pepper just needs the proper motivation. That’s everything in life—everyone has a weak point. You just have to know the right screws to turn.”
