Never Mix Business with Wieners
Piper stomped back the way they’d come through the dog park—which was difficult to do on wood chips—burning with mortification. She should have seen it coming. A sexy CEO offering her a job the moment she needed it most? How desperate did he think she was? Piper, you idiot, she told herself. Of course it was too good to be true.
“Wait a minute!” Aiden called out to her.
She didn’t turn back. She kept her eyes fixed straight ahead, weaving through the packed dog park. The crowd had grown since she last noticed. She’d been too busy ogling the man who wanted to proposition her for … well, who knew what.
When Aiden caught up to her, Sophie was in one arm, his coat in the other. “Hold on a second. Wait. You’re mad because I’m offering you too much money?”
She spun to face him. “Seventy dollars an hour? What exactly are you expecting for that kind of wage? Another lap dance like yesterday?”
“I expect you to walk my dog.” His voice rose with what she guessed was insult. “It might be more than your average pay, but that’s what it’s worth to me.”
“You can hire anyone else in this city for less than half that.”
“I’m not asking anyone else,” he said. “I’m asking you.”
Piper gave him a hard stare, trying to figure out what game he was playing. She recalled her original fear, that he pitied her. And to her, that was worse than propositioning her. She narrowed her eyes. “I’m not a charity case, either.”
He held his hands up in defense. “I never said you were.”
“Fine,” she relented. “But I earn my way. I work hard for my money.” She said it like a warning.
“Then earn it. What will it take? Negotiate with me. I’m all ears.” Aiden brought a hand up to where his tie should be, but he seemed surprised to find it missing, like he didn’t often take a day off. His demeanor turned all business again, but this time he was giving her the power.
She felt her breathing even out as he waited for her counteroffer. “Well,” she began. “I’ll accept seventy dollars a day, but I’ll be walking Sophie for two hours.”
“An hour and a half,” he countered.
“An hour and forty-five.”
“Done.”
“And I’ll take her for regular grooming when I take Colin.”
“All right, but I’ll pay.”
“The owner is a volunteer from the rescue center. I get a discount because she’s my friend.”
“And Sophie is my dog. I’ll pay.”
Piper frowned but wasn’t sure how to argue that one. Sophie’s head swung back and forth as they debated, pleased to be the center of all the attention.
“Anything else?” he asked.
“If you go out of town and you need a dog sitter, you call me first and I’ll work for a substantially lower rate.” She thought Colin might like that.
“I thought you couldn’t keep pets in your apartment.”
“I’ll hide her. What’s one more?”
They had a brief staring contest while he considered all her demands. Finally, his dimple made an appearance. “You know, I’ve been running my business for a while, and this isn’t how your average negotiations are supposed to go.”
Her chin rose an inch. “Well, I’m not your average girl.”
“So I’ve noticed.” The tension broke and he stopped fighting the smile.
If Piper had a dimple, it would have been dimpling too. Okay, so he wasn’t a creep who was propositioning her. And he didn’t pity her. At least, she didn’t think so. She felt ridiculous now. But what was she supposed to think? Who offered that kind of money for dog walking?
A small crowd had formed on one side of the open space, milling about and chatting. She spotted one of them carrying a large white sheet and assumed it was for a group picnic. When they went to spread it on the grass, two people each grabbed a corner and shook it out. Big red letters were painted across it: SFAAC.
Others in the group started picking up boards, holding them aloft for the whole park to see. Stop the killing and Put an end to puppy mills. A retriever mix trotted through the park with a sign strung around his neck: I can’t speak for myself. Please be my voice.
“What is this?” Aiden asked.
A jolt of anxiety shot through Piper. “San Franciscans Against Animal Cruelty.”
She wanted to duck and roll into the bushes before anyone from the group could recognize her. Most of them were pretty cool. She’d even protested with them in the past. It was one SFAAC member in particular whom she worried about running into. She’d never expected to see them there, or she would have suggested Aiden meet her somewhere else.
“A dog park seems like a strange place to protest,” Aiden said. “They’re preaching to the choir.”
“I think that’s the point.” She watched flyers being handed out. “It looks like they’re here to gain awareness and support from fellow animal lovers.” She headed for the path, counting out her steps to make it look like she wasn’t rushing. “Come on. It’s about to get too noisy for an interview.”
While Piper appreciated their cause, she hated to end the afternoon on such a sour note with Aiden. However, she felt relief as he clipped Sophie’s leash back on and followed Piper to the edge of the clearing.
“So,” she hedged. “Any hints of crazy yet? You know, besides accusing you of sexual harassment?”
“No red flags that I can see,” he teased. “Yet.”
“Tell that to my parole officer.” He glanced at her in surprise, and she threw her hands up in the air. “Just kidding.”
“You know,” Aiden said. “I think it’s generous of you to spend your spare time working with homeless dogs.”
“Not really.” Her cheeks warmed again and she turned away to hide it. “I love these guys, so it doesn’t feel like work.”
“I wish I had more time to do the same. There’s the whole time is money factor, I guess.”
Yet another thing he had in common with her brother, Piper thought.
She remembered her mother having to sell off farm equipment to pay the hospital bills and how quickly it all fell apart, especially after her father died. Even as her mother cried herself to sleep, she had to make plans for the funeral, for selling the farm, uprooting their whole lives. And where was Ethan? Sitting in on some large corporate merger in Washington. He caught a late flight the night before the funeral and left almost immediately after. Because time is money.
Piper fell silent, lost in thought, but when Aiden spoke again she realized so had he. “But there are some things money can’t buy.” The lightness had gone from his voice. “You know what I mean?”
He looked at her, like really looked at her, as though he wanted to know how she felt. And not just for part of the interview. It caught her off guard. For a moment, she wondered what a rich man like Aiden couldn’t buy with all his money.
She considered the question with the same seriousness with which he asked. It was easy to say money didn’t matter when you never had to worry about it.
“It’s true,” she said. “Money can’t make you happy. But it can sure make you miserable when you don’t have any.”
“Are you miserable?”
She thought about her friends and the things that made her happy, and she realized none of those things cost her a penny. “No, finances are just stressful sometimes.”
“Most people stress about money, no matter how much or how little they have.”
Before she could answer, he clicked his tongue and stopped. “Money can, however, buy new shoes.” He scraped his wingtips off on the cement path.
Piper pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh at the mess. “I should have warned you when I suggested we meet at the park. People are supposed to pick up after their dogs, but some don’t. I like to call them dog-park poopetrators.”
“I should have dressed more casually, but I didn’t think the dog park had a dress code.”
“Oh yes. The uniform is strictly enforced.” She nodded gravely. “Khakis and short-sleeved plaid shirts. Wrinkled, not pressed. And I wouldn’t recommend flip-flops.”
“I’ll remember that for next time.”
A middle-aged man approached to hand Aiden a flyer. She ducked her head and fell behind. She didn’t think she recognized him, but she couldn’t be sure. When she fell into step next to Aiden again, she saw that the glimmer was back in his eyes.
“So is that your dog-park uniform?” He eyed her tank top and jean shorts—a little appreciatively, she thought. “I was expecting something more Western-style.”
“Very funny. I don’t just do cowgirl, you know. I also have a cop uniform, a cheerleading outfit, and a construction worker.”
“Wow, a couple more costumes and you could be a one-woman Village People.”
“I don’t do covers. Original material only, under the Piper Summers trademark. And those are just the popular outfits. I’ve got plenty more.”
“You know, I wouldn’t mind seeing them sometime,” he said.
“I bet you wouldn’t.” She couldn’t keep the suggestive waggle from her eyebrow. “I charge by the song.”
A few minutes earlier, she’d become livid with him because she thought he had the wrong idea. Now that she knew that wasn’t the case, the wrong idea felt a little right. She was glad they’d made it back to total Flirtville, population: two.
Her insides quivered like she’d swallowed butterflies. She hadn’t experienced them since graduate school, so she knew they weren’t merely any butterflies. They were rare ones, like morpho butterflies.
She wasn’t imagining the chemistry between them. It was as obvious to her as a Western chorus frog singing for his mate or a male peacock shaking his tail feathers for a hen. She just wasn’t sure that’s what she wanted. Well, okay, she wanted it all right, but let’s face it, she also wanted chocolate for breakfast, but that didn’t mean it was good for you. Mmmmm, chocolate.
“Slut!” someone screamed.
Piper jumped and spun toward the voice, as did Aiden, as did the whole park. The protesters’ chant broke off. A girl from within their ranks stepped forward. And her accusing finger was pointed straight at Piper.
“Whore!”