Page 1 of Theirs

Chapter 1

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!

“This better be good, Kristen,” I say after swiping answer on my phone. “I just stepped in Yorkie shit, and I’m literally tangled up in five leashes right now.”

I turn on the phone speaker and set it on the ground next to the dog poo as I pull a poop bag from the holder on my waist and struggle to keep the dogs from eating it or walking in it while I try and pick it up.

“I need a huge favor,” she says, blowing her nose. “I’m not feeling well, and Kane volunteered me for that auction...”

“No!” I shout, mostly to her, but also to the Boston terrier that’s trying to gobble up the crap right out of my bag-covered hand. “Kane can find someone else. I’ve got multiple clients right now and a bottle of cheap wine at home calling my name. And trust me, Kristen, I need a drink.”

“Please, Teagan?” my sister-in-law and childhood friend begs, coughing into my ear after I stand up and dispose of the dog poop. “Kane really needs you. This is a big deal for him. It’ll make him look good.”

I grumble and start walking toward one of my clients’ upscale Greystone townhome to return their American pit bull terrier to them. “Isn’t it kind of weird that your husband volunteered you to be auctioned off for a date? That’s borderline human trafficking, right?”

Rich people are weird.

It doesn’t make sense why Kane and Kristen try so hard to be part of that portion of society. My brother, Kane, can hide behind his fancy suits and shiny Lexus, but I know what he’s really like. He’s the goofiest person I know, and would rather sit at home drinking a Michelob Ultra on the couch than go out to a freaking gala where they only serve top shelf champagne. He’s a nerd who would rather binge Star Wars all weekend, than go to a charity golf outing with colleagues on a Sunday.

“It’s for a good cause, sis,” she says. “The kids at Children’s Hospital Chicago benefit hugely from the money that they make off of the date auction. Kids with cancer, Tea, everyone wants to help the cancer kids. Trust me, if I could attend, I wouldn’t be bugging you to. The dinner is what I look forward to every year. You’ll love it! Good food, good cause, and a fairly good time.”

I roll my eyes. “Putting me on a guilt trip is not going to convince me to do this for you and Kane. Hold on, I’m dropping off a pup.”

I press a finger to the buzzer outside of the swanky condo building and wait for my client to come down. That’s the good thing about this guy, he always meets me downstairs, right on time. I’ve never seen the inside of the townhouse, but rumor has it the guy has some ties in the mafia. Even when he’s out of town, he makes sure he has someone to bring the dog down to me, instead of me going up to his condo. He’s always wearing these bulky rings on his fingers, and once I noticed his knuckles were busted; it’s got to be some mafia business!

“Hey, Kenny!” I say as he opens the door, his tie loose around his neck and his hair a little rumpled. I notice a couple lipstick marks on his neck where his shirt is open. I blush—he and his wife are still in their honeymoon phase.

“Hey, Teagan,” he says, taking his sweet dog’s leash from me. “Thanks so much for walking her. We really appreciate it.”

“Of course!” I say, taking the cash he hands me. I look at it, and he’s paid me with a hundred dollar bill. My walks are only thirty bucks for a half hour. “Kenny, this is too much.”

He shakes his head and refuses to take back the cash. Unlike most of my clients, he always pays with cash. “Think of it as a tip for being the best dog walker in Chicago.”

“You sure?” I ask, even though I need the money. I really don’t want to give it up. This tip will pay for some groceries.

He nods his head and lets his pup lick all over his hand.

“Okay, thank you so much,” I say. “Let me know when I’m needed again. Tell Elsie I said hello!”

“Will do,” he promises. “I gave my buddy your phone number too. He’s looking for a walker as well. I gave you nothing but praise. Hope you don’t mind.”

I thank him once again and put the cash inside my fanny pack that reads ‘Let’s Get Nashty’ from Kristen’s bachelorette party in Nashville last year. It works perfectly for carrying my poop bags, cell phone, and money so my hands can be free to hold the dog leashes.

“Okay, I’m back,” I tell Kristen, who had been waiting patiently on the phone the entire time.

“Kane will pick you up at seven,” Kristen says, as if I’ve already agreed to sell my body for an auction date. “Dinner is included, black-tie, just wear the bridesmaid dress you wore to the wedding. It’ll look perfect, and your tits look great in it.”

“You’re damn right they do,” I say. It was kind of weird when my best friend ended up falling in love with my brother, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. Now my best friend is my sister, and I feel like that’s really what any close friendship would ever want. “But I have one condition.”

She laughs and sneezes, then blows her nose again. “Only one? I thought you would have about a dozen

“Har har,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Kane has to bid on me. I don’t want to have to go on a date with some old guy who has a fetish for women who are twenty-five. I’m not sugar baby material.”

“Not with that attitude,” she teases. “I’ll tell Kane to make sure to take care of you.”

We catch up for a moment, and I promise to come visit her sometime soon. After tucking my phone back into my fanny pack, I drop off the rest of my clients and grab an Uber across the city to the dingier part of town where my apartment is located—my studio apartment that only has enough room for my little bed, a nightstand, and a small TV. It’s basically the size of a dorm room. Kind of depressing for an adult woman to live in, but I’m surviving, and that’s the only thing that matters. I had higher hopes of what my life would be by the time I was an adult, my five year plan derailed after the worst night of my life, and I’m trying my darndest to get my life back on track.

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