Page 52 of Daddy's Rules

Chapter Fourteen

Owen

I pace the living room in my apartment. The news drones on in the background, meant to keep my mind from wandering to Jordan, but it’s fruitless because everything reminds me of her. From the smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen to the way her running shoes are tipped on their side in front of the closet, rather than on the shelf in it.

Jordan’s toothbrush and body spray and little makeup bag still sit in my bathroom, and I haven’t bothered to touch them or move them, though I get a stab of longing and sadness every time the overhead light flickers on and I see them. Maybe I should have let the moving guys in. Beast’s food bowl and toys lay scattered around the kitchen, and I can’t bring myself to put them away either.

It’s no shock that I’ve never been a dog person, but these things remind me of Beast, which reminds me of Jordan, so it seems wrong to pack them away. Especially when this is where both of them belong—here with me.

It’s been exactly two months since she left. Two and a half since the article exposing our relationship went public in the tabloids and on Kari-Anne’s vlog. Since Jordan decided she was too dependent on me and our relationship, and that she was somehow holding me back... or something. How do I know what she was thinking? I can only guess. I didn’t get the full answer. She did what I’ve let her do one too many times. She ran.

And as I pace a hole in my living room carpet, I make up my mind. I’m not going to let her run. I’m not the guy that lets things happen, dammit. I won’t let her hide. Not from me. Not from her past. Not from the future that’s meant to be for the both of us. She asked for space and I gave it to her, but now it’s time to come home. Besides, she’s only a few months from the deadline of her father’s will and her mail still comes to my place. I wouldn’t invade her privacy by opening it, but I know a credit card bill when I see it. And these are all new cards. She hasn’t touched a dime of her father’s allowance but that means nothing if she’s up to her ass in debt.

I promised her I’d help her succeed staying on budget. Together, we’d make sure Denzi Marlow didn’t get a dime more than she was intended.

I grab my keys from the counter so I can track her ass down, but when I go to shut the television off and I see the face that haunts my dreams and my waking hours. I freeze.

“Well, my boyfriend called this little cutie Beast, and it just kind of stuck.”

Jordan... beautiful, impulsive, headstrong Jordan, holding Beast in her arms. “But it seems her name is really Lady. I’m so happy to have her reunited with her real owners. That’s what we’re trying to do here with the website.” Though she smiles when she hands the animal back to the beaming couple, there’s a sadness in her eyes I bet no one else can see. A longing. It’s breaking her heart to give her pet up, but she’s doing the right thing. I consoled myself knowing she at least had her Beast with her. But now, even he’s gone.

I’m about to turn off the TV when the reporter speaks again.

“And tell us about Lady’s outfit. It’s adorable.”

“Well, Lady’s wearing my latest design.” She describes the frilly pink outfit the dog is wearing and I only half listen as I stare at the confident look on her face. “My business, Fine, Furry, and Fabulous, donates twenty-five percent of the profits to shelters, rehoming efforts, and conservation.”

“One more question, Jordan?” the reporter asks and Jordan nods. She’s looking at the dog and doesn’t see the reporter’s eyes. My jaw tightens.

“Are you still with Owen Holloway?”

“Yes,” she says but doesn’t offer anything else. I smirk. Good girl, don’t feed into her prompting. She then picks up one of the outfits and starts explaining how it’s her most popular. She runs out the reporter’s time segment and I grin with pride.

I hit the power button on the remote and head for the door. There’s one thing I need to do before I haul her ass back to me, tell her how proud of her I am, and make it clear she’s never going to run from me again. One more thing to do before I fetch her. I’ll carry her if I have to. Home to me. Back to where she belongs.

* * *

The squirming littlepuppy in my arms tugs at my heartstrings. She’s a little ball of fluffy blonde curls and damn if I don’t think she’s cute.

“You’ll learn to do your duty outside, like civilized little puppies do,” I mutter, warning her. “You’ll eat the good stuff and only get the treats when you earn them. And you do not sleep in my bed or sit on my couch. Got it?”

She wriggles her little tail and laps at my hand, which I suppose is as much of an obedient gesture as I’ll get.

The door to the shop jangles, as I walk in holding the little puppy in my arms. At first, the storefront is vacant, and I wonder if Jordan isn’t working today. My heart sinks. I need to see her. I need to talk to her. At the sound of dogs barking and the smell of treats permeating the air, the little puppy in my arms gives out a yip.

“Be right there!” It’s Jordan. My mouth goes dry at the sound of her voice. God, I’ve missed her. How could I let her run away from me again? Because she asked you to give her space, I tell myself but I’m still gonna take her back home and blister her ass for leaving, then kiss her so long and hard, she’ll never want to leave again. At least, that’s my plan.

“Oh, aren’t you a cute little—”

She sees the puppy before she sees me, and when her eyes travel upward, she freezes. Standing up tall, she swallows. “Owen.”

“Jordan.”

“You... bought a puppy.”

“Well,” I say, giving the little pup an affectionate scratch behind her ears, “technically I rescued her. She’s a labradoodle.” I mutter under my breath, “I don’t know who comes up with these names. But supposedly she’s friendly and doesn’t shed.” I give Jordan a piercing look. “She also thrives well with routine and structure. And under the care and attention of an owner who loves her.”

Jordan blinks, and her eyes grow glassy. I go on.

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