“You know I’m a marketing person, right?” She makes a face like I’m pranking her or something. “Not a designer. Or a dog walker.”
“Yeah, but you gotta be versatile if you wanna work here. Besides, I think it’s good to see what your potential is. And you can’t learn to market something to a dog unless you understand a dog,” I reply with a wink, and for a moment, I think I spot a hint of a smirk on her face.
However, Pepper suddenly starts barking profusely at some other dog near the edge of the lake, who’s digging his feet into the sand to show dominance.
I try to snatch Pepper’s leash from Lesley’s hands, but then the owner of the dog throws a ball into the air … and it lands in the water.
And Pepper shoots right after it.
With Lesley still holding on.
She squeals. “Stop! Wait!”
But Pepper just keeps running, not giving a care in the world about the human she’s dragging with her. It’s like a super dog, running with the speed of wind like it’s chasing lightning, and Lesley’s struggling to hold on.
“Let go of the leash!” I call out to her, but she’s not listening.
I run after her, trying to catch up, but Pepper’s too fast.
And then it happens.
In a split second, Pepper dives into the water … and pulls Lesley in after her.
A big splash follows, and I rush over to the water side. I take off my jacket, throw off my shoes, and jump in after her. She’s tumbling around, screaming and raging at the same time, clothes everywhere, and I’m right there with her.
“What are you doing?” Lesley sputters, trying to keep her head above water as her soaked clothes weigh down on her.
“I’m trying to help you,” I say. I grab her arms and pick her up, lifting her into my arms.
“What? No,” she protests, trying to scramble away from me, but I keep her tightly locked in my arms.
And good god … feeling her wet body so close to mine sure does something to my excitement down below. Like, literally, I have to force myself not to get a raging boner in public because that’d be a sight to behold.
Next thing you know, all those grannies sitting in the grass and enjoying their sandwiches for lunch would have a heart attack just by looking at me. I don’t want to be responsible for killing someone’s grandma. Nope.
“I don’t need help.” Lesley tries to jerk loose, but her wet clothes stick to my body like glue. “I can swim.”
“You never told me, so I thought you might drown.”
“Really? Like that’s something you say on a job interview,” she scoffs, folding her arms.
“No thank you? Okay. You’re welcome anyway.” I smile as I wade toward the surface.
“For what? You gave that dog to me, and now I’m in the water. One plus one equals two,” she says, frowning.
Pepper has already found the ball and made her way back to the grass, and when Lesley notices, she snaps, “Seriously? All this for a goddamn ball?” Pepper shakes her body, getting the water off. She then breaks out into a happy bark, showing the ball like it’s some kind of victory.
Tapping my chest, Lesley adds, “This is all your fault.”
“Well, if that’s how you feel, then suit yourself.”
I drop her straight back into the water.
She sputters and bubbles come from her mouth, and when she comes up again, she gasps and screams, “What the hell, dude?!”
“You said you could swim,” I say, shrugging and grinning as I walk back on land. “Good luck.”
She smashes the water with her fists and growls but doesn’t respond. I guess she knows everything she says can and will be used against her.
Chapter 7
TJ
After I gave the ball back to the lady and apologized for having Pepper steal it, I follow Lesley, who’s stampeding across the park with a red-hot head. She doesn’t stop once, not even to pull off her heels and pour out the water or while wringing out her hair.
“Where are you going?” I ask, but she won’t answer me. I only just manage to grab my shoes and jacket before running after her.
I have a hard time keeping up while trying to hold on to Pepper’s leash. We’re walking across the road, and I’m just following her, not knowing shit about what she’s thinking. I can definitely tell how she’s feeling, though. The fire is practically blazing off her, and I can feel it burn on my skin. Not literally, of course. That would make her Supergirl, and I hate to say it, but I don’t hire people with those kind of special skills.
I snigger to myself from my own stupid thoughts.
“What’s so funny?” she sneers.
“My imagination,” I reply. “I’m not laughing at you if that’s what you’re thinking.”