Page 77 of The Problem with Dating

“For the love of…” I muttered as I moved in closer. The second I took a step, he awakened and flipped over to his feet. As soon as he saw me, he started his nonstop barking and growling routine. That was the sound I’d fallen asleep to the night prior, and let’s just say it wasn’t the best thing for my ears to be pierced with—especially without espresso in my system.

Feliz looked at me as if he would rip my throat out. Nothing but rage in his eyes.

“You know, you have a lot of nerve being so aggressive as you sit there covered in your own crap,” I told him.

“Woof, woof, woof, you’re a dick,” he replied. Or at least that was what I assumed he would’ve said if he could speak. Instead, it was just nonstop barking, which sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

I stared at the deranged mutt for a few seconds before turning around and walking toward my kitchen. My patience was being tested, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why Teresa would think giving me that thing was a wise idea. Nothing about my lifestyle or me screamed that I was a dog person. A part of me was highly annoyed with my great-aunt for leaving such a bad gift at my doorstep. Then a bigger part of me became annoyed with myself for being annoyed with her. She was dead. The last thing I could’ve done was let her rest in peace.

Still, I was annoyed.

And grumpy.

And not caffeinated.

As I dragged my feet toward the kitchen, I started my espresso machine and grumbled to myself before I grabbed my cell phone and began reading through my text messages with the updates on the restaurant from the night prior. Then I went to my emails and grumbled some more.

Nothing good came from checking your emails and messages before coffee was in your system. I knew that fact, and still, I failed to keep from checking said messages.

Once my espresso made it into my system, I headed to the bathroom, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and debated how to deal with the dog covered in poop in my guest room. Then it clicked that I had someone who could help a floor above me.

Yara.

Maybe she’d end up being the answer to my jaded prayers.

First, I had to suck up my pride and put my tail between my legs to whimper for her help.

I tossed on my tennis shoes and headed upstairs to the sixteenth floor. After knocking—well,pounding—on her door, I felt relief when she opened it.

She opened the door with confusion in her eyes. “Alex. What’s going on?”

“Hi. I need your help.”

“Is everything okay?” She placed a hand on my arm. “Is Feliz okay?” The warmth from her touch threw me off slightly. Why did my body feel the need to lean in to be touched by her again?

“He’s fine. Well, I suppose.” I cleared my throat and grumbled, “I need your help.”

“With?”

“The dog.”

A sly smile fell against her face. She crossed her arms and leaned against her doorframe. “You need my help.”

“That’s what I said.”

“No.” She poked me against my chest with a big, goofy grin that almost made me smile back. Why, though? Why did that woman make me want to smile when I’d spent most of my days living with frowns? “You.”Poke.“Need.”Poke.“My.”Poke poke.“Help!”

I groaned as I raked my hand through my messy hair. “You’re going to be annoying about this, aren’t you?”

“So annoying, yes.” She rocked on her heels, narrowing her eyes at me. “Give me a good reason I should help you.”

“Because I…” I grumbled, knowing the next words would make her so happy. “I need you.”

Her smile stretched further.

I hated that I loved how it looked.

“Youneedme,” she sang.

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