Page 40 of Hound Dog
“So now that you’ve matched her up, your job is done, right?”
“Hardly. That wasonenumber. I aim to get my clients at least three numbers to choose from, but we usually manage five in one outing.”
“Five?! What do you even do with five numbers?” I muttered, yanking the lid to the hotdogs open.
His playful smirk grew wider, and I hated myself for how long my gaze lingered on his pouty bottom lip. “If you need me to explain that, maybe you haven’t grown all that much more experienced in our years apart.”
A blazing flare of irritability rushed through my veins. Scowling at him, I reached into the hot water, pinched a dog with the tongs and dropped it into the bun.
His smile quickly shifted. “What are you doing?” he asked. “Don’t eat the inventory.”
Snatching the bottle of ketchup, I rolled my eyes, and gave the bottle a good hard squirt onto my Sabrett. “Why not? It’s not like you’re selling them to anyone.”
“Still. It’s the principal. It looks unprofessional.”
Narrowing my eyes, I opened my mouth wide and took a big, long bite of my hotdog, practically deep-throating it.
“How’sthatfor inexperienced?” I said, my voice muffled by the bite.
He looked serious, holding my glare for a long second before he burst out laughing. In turn, it mademeburst out laughing. Which, newsflash, does not look cute with a mouthful of hotdog and ketchup.
“You’ve turned into a nutcase, you know that?”
I nodded as he grabbed a paper towel from the roll below the hotdog cart, handing it to me.
Gratefully, I took it and wiped the ketchup from my mouth. “Four years at a vocal conservatory will do that to you. Singers and theater folk are all kinds of crazy.”
He didn’t say anything more, but merely smirked as Sarah’s voice came through the earbuds. “He gave me his number!” she squeaked. “What do I do now?”
“Good job,” Finn said. “Pack up your stuff. We’re moving to another section of the beach.”
From several yards away, I watched as Sarah clipped Yipper’s leash, smiling and laughing. I couldn’t help but feel good about her taking him, even if I would miss the little guy. They were a good match.
Finn and I packed up the hotdog cart to move down further along the beach… which was proving to be a little tricky. Wheels don’t roll well along sand.
Curiosity flashed in his jade eyes, and we slowly trudged our way further down the sandbar. “So,” he said, “you became a singer?”
I shrugged. “Well, I’m a vocal coach now. I teach other singers.”
“Is that what you want to do?”
I paused. After years of hearingthose who can’t do, teach, I’d grown defensive of this line of questioning. “If it isn’t what I wanted to do, I wouldn’t bedoingit.”
“Good,” he said. “You had an incredible voice. I always wished I’d get a chance to hear you sing again. Hell, maybe I will this summer.”
I snorted and took another, much smaller bite of my hotdog. “Don’t hold your breath,” I muttered.
His arm brushed mine as we walked, and a shiver skirted up my body at the contact. The feel of his touch launched me back six years to when we were laying side by side on that rooftop and his arm brushed mine.
Angling his face near mine, he flashed me one of those signature Finn Evans smiles. The exact smile that I hadn’t been able to forget for six years. Straight white teeth. A sexy curl to his top lip. Only this time, more stubble framed those perfectly kissable lips of his.
“What if instead I wait with bated breath? A little less negative, wouldn’t you say?” he whispered.
Ugh.Thiswas why I didn’t want to say yes to this little agreement of his. Because of our history. Because I hated him. Because I had a boyfriend.
But mostly…
Because I was still so, so attracted to him.
