1
“Mr. Fluffers, where are you?” Alyssa called, rushing through the back streets of a well-lit yet empty upscale community in Malibu.
Well, upscale was an understatement. All the houses faced the beach, and she was pretty sure she’d seen a Hollywood star or two. But right now, that was beside the point.
Apprehension rolled into her stomach, making uncomfortable, acidy waves. She’d been hired to housesit and watch Mr. Fluffers for the summer, while the labradoodle’s rich human parents traveled through Asia.
Her own best friend had vouched for her and recommended her.
She couldn’t let them down. Besides, how would Mr. Fluffers survive in the streets? He was allergic to freaking tap water, for crying out loud. Her heart squeezed. All her fault! She’d opened the back door to put the trash out and the little escape artist dashed before she could get him back.
And now, after almost an hour walking up and down the neighborhood, fear settled in. She couldn’t call them and tell them she lost their dog. She had to find him.
She’d have to knock on some doors. Why not start with the closest one to her?
Knox Barret lived next door, and happened to be Madison’s father. Her bestie, who had recommended her because she knew she could use the money, and frankly, a roof over her head. Madison was now in a summer internship in France. Her mom and Knox had gotten divorced a couple years prior, but they maintained friendly relations.
A much different reality than her own.
Not that Alyssa’s mom ever married anyone, anyway.
Her alcoholic father left them when Alyssa had been only seven, and from then on her mother had a string of boyfriends and almost fiancés, like she’d call them. All of them were only wanting one thing from her mom: sex. (And money, when she had any.)
The reason why Alyssa had avoided doing it altogether. The reason she was still a virgin at twenty-one.
A cat meowed, pulling her from her thoughts. She made the way back to Mr. Barret’s house.
She sighed, and finger combed her curly hair, then smoothed her hand over the white, spaghetti-string cotton dress she had on. In the rush to find Mr. Fluffers, she’d forgotten to put on a bra. The dress she wore, a cheap piece of fabric from TJ Maxx, could pass for a flimsy beach cover-up.
Right now, all she needed was to find Mr. Fluffers. Modesty be damned.
She rang the bell, and after the third ping, Mr. Barret opened the door.
Air evaporated from her brain, and she did a double take. Damn.
The man was an accomplished screenwriter, but he could just as well be a body builder. Tall and broad, his muscles stretched the cotton black shirt he had on. Even with the casual gym shorts, she couldn’t help noticing his long muscular legs. “Alyssa,” he said, his deep baritone causing her gaze to travel up. “Everything okay?”
His deep blue eyes greeted her, and she thought she’d pass out.
Why was this man so fucking hot? She’d always been a bit too aware of his hotness, in the five years she’d been friends with Madison. But she played it off, after all, he was much older than her, and married. She’d never cause any hurt to anyone, and it wasn’t like he ever gave her the slightest hint that he was interested in her.
Still… didn’t change how bothered she felt when he was around. In the last couple of years especially, his presence unsettled her, but she tried her best not to show it.
“No… Mr. Fluffers ran out, and I’ve been looking for him for the past hour,” she blurted. “I’m worried he’ll be run over by a car or will have an anxiety attack.” Like the one I’m having, she added internally. Mr. Fluffers was on anxiety medication because he was so quickly triggered. Cars triggered him, which was why she usually walked him in the evening after most neighbors were home. Flashing lights triggered him. He was the equivalent of an insecure character from The Big Bang Theory in dog form. “Have you seen him?”
“No,” he said. “I’ll help you look.”
“Thanks, Mr. Barret, but you don’t have to—”
“I insist,” he said, with that take-charge attitude that only enhanced her libido and put all her naughty bits on high alert. “Where have you looked?”
“Up and down this street and the next one down.”
“I’ll grab my car and we can drive around. This way it’ll go faster.”
“S-sure.”
Moments later, she sat in his tricked-out Range Rover, while he drove around. She scanned the area, searching for Mr. Fluffers, but every so often her gaze strayed to the incredible man behind the wheel, and she found herself cataloging his features, his strong nose, clefted chin. The thick cords on his neck.
