Page 12 of Sexy Bad Valentine

She glances over her shoulder. Wide eyes blink, long dark lashes sweep the curve of her cheeks. “Max?”

“Right.” I thrust my hands in the pockets of my overcoat. Her hair is blindingly shiny. I bet it would feel like silk in my fingers.

“You didn’t text me.”

“I wanted to,” I tell her. “Does that count for anything?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps it shouldn’t. I just finished the interview for Puppy Love.” She turns to face me once we’re out of the drag of the crowd moving around us. “What are you doing here? Are you one of the guys? Oh, I’m not supposed to know that, am I?”

“I wish,” I say. “No, my role at Puppy Love is different.”

“Wait.” She gapes. “You actually work at Puppy Love?”

“Well, yeah. Didn’t you know? You just asked—”

“I was joking.” She bites her lip. “But you really do work in the building?”

“I do.”

“What do you do then?”

Owner. Co-owner. CEO. “Dog walker.”

She laughs and it’s like honey covered bubbles. “No, really? How did you pull that off?”

“I’m friends with one of the higher ups.” Friend? Brother? Great now I’m lying to her. What is my plan here? Deanna will kill me for continuing to flirt with her, but I just don’t want to stop talking to her.

“But dog walking. You don’t even like dogs.”

“That’s not true. Beelzebarclay is more of an exception.” I grin.

“Uh-huh.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Not sure if I believe that.”

“Think about how you met me,” I offer.

“Chasing him around the park.”

“See.” I thumb my chest. “Dog walker. I’m great at it.”

“Okay.” She smiles and those pretty eyes light right up. “I guess you’re believable.”

“Coffee?” I ask, offering her my arm.

“Sure. I have a little time.” She places her hand in the crook of my elbow, and I want to cover it with my own, holding her there for as long as she’ll let me while we stroll down the street to my favorite coffee cart.

“Are you still dogsitting Barclay?” Evie clasps her coffee between her gloved hands while we stand in the shelter of one of the buildings near the coffee cart.

I nod. “Until my sister comes home from her travels.”

“Oh, what does she do?”

“Not a lot, actually,” I say. “She started this out-of-her-kitchen company while she was raising me that took on a life of its own and made her quite wealthy. Now she mostly travels and works from wherever she ends up.”

“That must be nice.”

“She enjoys it,” I agree, sipping my coffee that’s already starting to cool. “She deserves it. Put a lot of work in when she was younger.”

“And looking after you. What happened to your parents?”

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