Thus, even though I was exhausted from the number of plates I had in the air in order to afford to live on my own, I just kept going. As much as I wanted a dog, putting myself back under my mom’s thumb was never going to happen.
I had a crapload of schoolwork, and it felt like I was always on, but I intended to keep going. Every weekday morning, I tutored in math for a few hours at UCLA. Then after I finished my own classes for the day, I came to a Beverly Hills dog park where owners and walkers could book me to play with their dogs. My sister was appalled that I threw tennis balls as a way to make money, particularly at a park so close to home, but honestly, it was my favorite job. My other two part-time gigs, house cleaning and being a substitute server for a local event space, rounded out my earnings. It wasn’t much, but it was mine, and no one was lording it over me.
It was easy for my sister to judge the things I did when she’d never had to support herself, and if she had her way, she never would. I didn’t concern myself with her attitude because, in truth, I liked my life. Also, the money I earned in the park was nothing to sneeze at. I made myself available for twenty dollars for half an hour of playtime, and people lined up to hand their dogs off to me for exercise. More often than not while I was busy with their pups, their owners or professional walkers would sit on a bench and work or play on their phones. On Monday through Friday, I’d spend a few hours in the park, and on a normal day, I’d leave with well over a hundred dollars. It wasn’t glamorous work, but it was fun, the time passed quickly, and the money was good. To me, that was a win all the way around. The other thing that was great about the park gig was that there was never any real tension or drama.
At least there wasn’t before I came across Duke’s newest walker. Mr. Attitude had a baseball cap slung low, but when I was crouched down petting Duke, I’d looked up and saw how gorgeous the guy was. His eyes were a rich, bright blue, and he’d been blessed with a lean face, high cheekbones, a strong jawline that was covered in blond scruff, and a set of too-damn-sexy lips. Since he was scowling at me, I couldn’t see his teeth, but I had a feeling they were as perfect as the rest of him. I’d come across some seriously attractive dog walkers during my time in the park, but this guy was hotter than anyone I’d come across before, by a mile. The fact that he was rude as hell was a letdown, but I wasn’t all that surprised. Hot guys were a dime a dozen in LA, and in my experience, a lot of them were insufferable jerks.
The way Mr. Attitude glowered at me was insulting, but it got worse when he opened his mouth and spoke. Infuriated by his words and behavior, I whipped out my phone, took a quick photo, and fired off a text to Jen, Duke’s owner, before letting him know he was going to be out of a job soon.
Jen, you’ve got to fire this guy ASAP. He cursed at Duke, and he’s rude as hell. Whatever service he came from doesn’t vet their employees well.“Did you really just text Jen?” the jerk asked.
“Yep.”
“Because you think she’ll fire me?”
I’d expected him to be angry, but instead, his tone was one of stunned amazement. Good lord, I thought, I bet his looks meant people never pushed back at him.
“I don’t think, I know. She’s fired dog walkers for less. Where Duke’s concerned, she doesn’t play around.”
He held up a finger in a one moment gesture as he pulled his cell from his back pocket, shaking his head in amazement as he did. He turned away from me a bit as he brought the phone to his ear.
“Yeah?”
His eyes darted to me as he listened to the person on the other end.
“Well, fuck…”
And then, “I’m realizing that now.”
After another minute, he let out an amused chuckle. “Don’t be sorry. I’ll take care of it.”
Ending the call, he slid the phone back into his pocket before he fully turned to face me again.
“Listen, there’s been a huge misunderstanding.”
Damn, I wouldn’t have thought Jen had time to call his boss, but I guess I’d been wrong. That had to be why he was changing his tune. I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest as I glared up at him.
“Oh, there’s no misunderstanding,” I countered. “I got that you’re a rude douche loud and clear.”