Playing for Keeps (Heartbreaker Bay #7)(14)
“I’ve got her an appointment at seven.”
She just stared at him. “I can’t have this conversation in my pj’s.”
“And you’re in your pj’s because . . . ?”
“Give me five minutes,” she said instead of answering.
He had no idea what kind of conversation required a change of clothing, but he’d grown up with four sisters. He wasn’t stupid. He just nodded and she vanished into the back. But five minutes, his ass. He’d never met a woman who could get ready to go out the door in less than an hour.
But sure enough, five minutes later, she reappeared in a soft-looking black sweater and jeans snugged to her curves with some strategic frayed holes in one thigh and the opposite knee, giving him peekaboo hints of skin. They were tucked into kickass boots that made a man think about what she’d look like in just those boots. She’d added some makeup and piled her dark hair on top of her head, her blue highlights once again emphasizing her blue eyes.
“Impressive,” he said while thinking why are you sleeping in the shop?
“You have your superhero armor,” she said, nodding to his suit, “and I’ve got mine.”
He wondered why she needed armor. He wondered a lot about her. “I was referring to the fact that you really only took five minutes to get ready for your day.”
She shrugged. “I’m different.”
She absolutely was. And he was starting to realize how much he liked it. “Are you living here?”
“No.”
“You clearly slept here last night,” he pointed out.
She shrugged. “I do that sometimes when I work really late, that’s all.”
Okay. But he knew she rented an apartment in the Tenderloin, which wasn’t very far away. But if money was the problem, she’d no doubt be worrying about the cost of a vet and probably also about having another mouth to feed.
Another pang in his chest, except this time it was for the two-legged female in the room. He wanted to offer to help in some way, in any way, but she was so damn prickly, he didn’t dare risk her pride. “How about I take her? The vet’s a friend of mine who owes me a favor.”
“What did you do, get him on the QVC or something?”
He had to laugh. “Just what exactly is it that you think I do for a living?”
“You’re one of those genius Shark Tank investors who backs cool inventions.”
He laughed. “That’s actually shockingly accurate.”
She shrugged. “Ivy told me about some of what you and Spence have done together, and that now you’re also doing something for NASA. You’re working on a trash pickup system for space.” She paused, seemed to be embarrassed that she knew so much about him, and crossed her arms. “Or whatever.”
He went brows up. First, he’d never seen Sadie anything but utterly comfortable in her own skin. And second, Ivy was a friend of his as well. She operated The Taco Truck outside the building, and her food was amazing. When she’d recently run into some trouble with the person who’d owned the truck before her, Caleb had offered a lucrative business deal. Now she was the sole proprietor and he a silent partner on a deal that had turned out to be beneficial to them both. She got to be her own boss and he got the best food on the planet whenever he was here at the Pacific Pier Building.
He’d known Ivy and Sadie were tight, that didn’t surprise him, but what did was that he’d been the topic of discussion between them. “Until yesterday, you and I have barely said two words to each other. Why would you be gossiping about me?”
“It wasn’t gossip.” But she looked away, unable to hold his gaze.
Even more fascinating.
“My point being,” she said, “that you’re probably too busy taking over the world to go to the vet.”
“I’ve made the time.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “What if you pass out from the still-to-be-seen dog allergy?”
“I’ll manage.” He scooped up Lollipop, who gave him a cheerful lick on his chin.
“I’m coming with.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “If you stop breathing, who’s going to give you mouth-to-mouth?”
He stopped and met her gaze. “Are you saying you would?”
“I’m saying I don’t want you dead, is all.”
He’d take it.
Chapter 5
#HelloKitty
Sadie had no idea what she thought she was doing. Apparently she’d decided on love at first sight with Lollipop, and no matter that she had zero business adopting a dog, she was going to do it anyway.
But if the guy wanted to take Lollipop to the vet, she should let him. She didn’t need to go.
But she wanted to.
The reasons for that were far too complicated to contemplate so she grabbed her bag and her keys. She was hugely grateful to Rocco, the owner of the Canvas Shop, because he had a full bathroom here, including a very tiny shower. This was mostly because Rocco lived an hour south of San Francisco with some of his motorcycle club brothers and didn’t always go home after being out all night doing his thing and before coming to work.
No one was supposed to sleep here but he’d broken that rule for her a few times now and she knew he didn’t mind. He understood the problem with being a young tattoo artist. You didn’t do it for the money, you did it for the love of the art. And in her case, the need to help other women like herself, who had scars they wanted to keep hidden, whether from abuse, surgeries, accidents, self-harm . . . whatever. The reasons weren’t nearly as important as the work itself.