Doggie Style Read online

  If anyone would have told me ten years ago when I came to LA to become an actor that I’d be making and selling dog clothes, I never would have left Chicago. But, at some point my life path veered far away from my dream of walking the red carpet. Now the dogs I clothe are the ones lifting their legs on the thing.

  “Sounds like a good plan. So do you like her?” Vance asks.

  “Does she have a nice rack?” Jagger adds.

  Vance huffs and then covers Payne’s ears. “Stop.”

  “I don’t edit myself for anyone. You should know that by now. Why did you bring him if you don’t want him to hear any of our conversation?” Jagger says.

  “Because I thought it’d be fun for him. I didn’t know you couldn’t bring it down to a level five from the level ten you’re currently operating at.”

  The two continue to bicker as Cami places our drinks down on the table.

  “I’ll stop.” Jagger huffs and raises his hands in front of him in a placating gesture.

  “Thank you.” Vance removes his hands from Payne’s ears and turns to me. “So did you hire her?”

  “I gave her a week to try to make something happen. I wasn’t going to hire her at all, but she refused to accept no.”

  “You need to hammer that shut now then. No one likes clingy.” Jagger tips his beer up to his lips.

  “She’s not clingy, she’s persistent. I think she might need the job badly.”

  Vance and Jagger look at one another from across the table. “She’s got the job,” they say in unison.

  “No, she doesn’t.”

  Vance laughs and Jagger points his beer at me. “It’s a noble trait, but you have to admit, you’re going to hire her if you feel like she needs the work. It’s just who you are.” He shrugs.

  Now I’m the one rolling my eyes because I know they’re probably right. I bring my beer bottle to my lips and take a swig. “This is different. It’s my career and I’m not going to let anything stand in my way.”

  Especially not a five-foot-three brunette with eyes the color of almonds.

  My two friends share another look and smile over at me.

  Assholes.

  2

  Teegan

  I really need to work out more often, I think as I huff and puff my way up the stairs. Go back to that damn gym I sponsor with my bank account bi-weekly.

  As I round the corner of the stairs that lead to my third-floor apartment, every muscle in my body tenses when I see her lying in front of my door. Asleep or passed out, I’m not sure. What I am sure of is that she’s here for her post-relationship crash cycle.

  I crouch down and shake her shoulder, noticing her overnight bag on the floor next to her. “Mom.”

  A soft smile graces her lips before her eyes open. “Tee?” she asks.

  “Yeah, Mom.” I hook my arm under hers to help her to her feet. “What’s wrong?”

  “Carl broke up with me. Went back to his wife.” She lays her head on my shoulder as I unlock the door while holding her and my bags in my arms.

  “I wish I could say I was surprised,” I mumble, more to myself than anything because throwing out ‘I told you so’s’ won’t speed up the process of her moving on any faster. “Head to the spare bedroom and I’ll make us some dinner.”

  She stumbles into my apartment, stopping right before I can make my way inside. Her cold hands land on both my cheeks and she looks at me like I’m her savior. “You’re the best, baby.” She heads down the hall, saying, “I have the best daughter.”

  She has the biggest pushover for a daughter.

  Grabbing her bag from the hallway, I lock up behind me.

  I still can’t get Leo’s face out of my head as I unload the groceries I bought on my way home. He’s completely hot and manly. Nothing like I expected to find when I walked into Canine Couture. The bunching muscles in his arms every time he moved and the natural blond highlights in his light hair are keeping him forefront in my mind. His million-dollar smile works like a sledgehammer on the brick wall that separates professionalism from pornography in my brain.

  Maybe it’s just been too long.

  Who am I kidding? It’s been too long.

  I get out the chicken and peppers and leave them on the counter when there’s a knock on my door.

  Peeking through the peephole first, I unlock the three locks and open the door, where my neighbor Sophie is there with a bottle of wine clutched in her hand.

  “You feed me and I’ll keep you hydrated.” She walks in without an invitation, heading straight to the kitchen.

  “My mom’s here.” I join her and pull out two glasses for us. “She’s in the spare room.”

  Sophie sighs but doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to. I know that sigh says that one day I’ll have to say no. I understand where she’s coming from, but it’s my mom.

  Sophie opens the wine and pours it into the glasses. “Let’s down this and trash the bottle before she wakes up,” she says.

  Sophie knows the drill. Alcohol and my mom don’t mix—or they do, maybe too well. I’ve never really been able to figure out which it is.

  I place the chicken into the skillet, sipping my wine while stirring.

  “Tell me about your day,” I say because all I can think of right now is either the hot client I might catch or how long it will take my mom to get back on her feet this time.

  Sophie slides up on the counter, her wine clasped in both her hands. “Well, my article will be on the cover of the magazine next month.” She’s a good friend. She should have started with that. It’s probably the reason for the wine.

  “Soph,” I whine. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

  She shrugs, but we both know why and the reason is sleeping one off in my spare room.

  I clink wine glasses with her before continuing to cook the chicken. “I’m so proud of you. So was this the article on the food trucks?”

  “Yeah.” She couldn’t keep her smile from forming if she had her lips nailed shut. “It’s not much and I think I gained about twenty pounds doing the research, but I’ve never had my name on an article that made the cover before.”

  “Stop it. You should be so proud, Soph.” I bring my wine glass to my lips and take a small sip.

  “Maybe one day I’ll get to New York with those big magazines, but What’s Up L.A. is a start.”

  It’s further than I’ve gone since graduation. I wasted three years at Fink and Deed.

  “Wait!” She jumps down from the counter.

  I wave my hands in the air, nodding in the direction of the back bedroom. Jeez, what am I, thirteen? Sneaking in at three am?

  “Sorry.” She lowers her voice. “Didn’t you have a new client meeting today?”

  “Next topic, please.” I huff out a sigh of frustration.

  She leans against the counter, bringing the glass of wine to her lips. “It couldn’t have been that bad.”

  “Let’s just say he gave me a week to make something happen, otherwise he won’t be signing on with me. And get this. He’s so damn fine I could barely sell myself, I was so distracted. At least the businesswoman inside of me was. The other side may have pushed out my tits and walked with sway in the hopes that he’d forget the dog and throw me over the counter.”

  She stifles a laugh, making sure to swallow her wine. “Tee, there’s no way it was that bad. Who was this guy?”

  “Leo Vaughn is his name. He started on Etsy and he owns—”

  “Canine Couture. I know it. I’ve heard of him.” Her eyes bulge out and she nods her head in rapid fashion.

  “Then you know how hot he is?”

  Her smile widens further, then a second later it falls completely. “He’s gay.” You’d think she just told me that my boyfriend was cheating on me from the way she’s looking at me.

  “Gay? I don’t think so.” I shake my head and stir the chicken around in the pan.

  “Seriously. I’ve heard women line up against the wall where he groo
ms the dogs just to watch him, but that he lives a super-secret life that includes lovers of the male variety.”

  “Who did you hear that from? I’m telling you, the man I met today was not gay. His eyes kept dipping to my cleavage.”

  She shrugs with one shoulder. “It’s a fact, Tee, he’s gay.”

  “My gaydar is usually spot on and I was not getting that vibe from him.” I grab my wine glass and take a healthy sip, more disappointed by this news than I should be.

  Sophie shrugs. “You know I’m never wrong about the gossip I help proliferate. Maybe your tit was hanging out.”

  I mentally track the meeting. No, I’m ninety-nine percent my boobs were tucked away safely in my bra and my blouse was closed.

  “He was probably staring at that small coffee stain.” Sophie points and I look down at my shirt and sigh.

  “Oh, jeez, no wonder he didn’t want to give me the job.” I drop the wooden spoon on the stove and reach for a washcloth to try to get the stain out. It isn’t until I’m dabbing at the stain that I recall the words of the older woman who was in the pet spa.

  “You’re right. There was a lady in there when I arrived and when she left she said something about Grindr to him. I didn’t even think about it at the time.”

  “Told you,” she says, her lips still on her wine glass.

  “I’ll have to make sure I look presentable next time I see him. I don’t blame him for not wanting to hire me.”

  “I thought you said he’s giving you a week?” she asks.

  I give up and toss the washcloth into the sink. Another dry-cleaning bill. “It’s like a hanging sentence. What can I accomplish in a week when I still have to learn his brand? I need at least a month to figure something out. He knows I can’t produce, but this way he doesn’t have to feel bad.”

  “Take off the blouse.” Sophie holds her hands out.

  I unbutton my shirt, and the air conditioning chills my arms when I strip it off and pass it to Sophie. She grabs the dish detergent from under the sink and starts using all her finger and forearm muscles to get the stain out.

  “I’ll help you. I have contacts. What does he want?” she asks as I go back to finishing the stir-fry while she gets my stain out.

  “He wants to get his clothing into a pet store, but to do that he needs more visibility that will lead to more sales to show them that there’s a demand for his product.”

  She nods. “Okay, give me a few days and I’ll figure something out, because you are going to get this job. And just think, now that you know he’s gay, all that pent-up sexual energy can be focused on the job.”

  “He’s really good-looking, Soph.” The spoon drops out of my hand just imagining how his t-shirt tightened on his shoulders when he picked up the dog from the gated area.

  “The good ones are always gay. You never see a gay man sitting on a couch with his hand down his pants watching the game.”

  “Um…”

  We both laugh.

  “You know what I mean,” she says. “Regardless, this job is yours, Tee.”

  I nod, secretly hoping she’s channeled the future and knows for sure, because Leo Vaughn could put me on the map. I refuse to let another man come between me and success again.

  3

  Teegan

  I double-check that I’m at the right address. This guy needs help exactly why?

  I’m waiting for hundred-dollar bills to rain down from the condo building I’m standing in front of. The sound of the waves hitting the beach behind the building only confirms the property’s value. Seeing that all I know is that Leo’s condo is on the second floor, I climb the outside set of stairs.

  Two voices arguing stop my footsteps mid-flight. A man and woman rush down the stairs on the opposite side.

  “I told you to set the alarm,” she says, doing an excellent job in her heels.

  “I did.” He waits at the bottom and holds his hands out. “I’ll catch you.”

  She stops her descent and debates, a smile playing on her lips.

  Don’t do it, girl. You’re six steps up.

  “Really?”

  The guy holds both hands out. “You don’t trust me?”

  Her smile only gets wider as she stares down at him like he’s her prince. “I trust you, but me breaking a limb before filming? Probably not the best idea.”

  “Come on. What are you, chicken?”

  “Grade-school name calling isn’t going to work on me, Rose.”

  From her amused face, I’d say she’s going to jump. She looks familiar to me, but I can’t place who she is. Probably some C-list actress. There’s a million of them in Los Angeles.

  A second later, she propels her body from the stairs, her eyes closed the entire time. She slides into his arms like that laundry detergent commercial where the baby gently lands on a pillow. He swings her around in a circle and it isn’t until he stops that both their eyes are aimed in my direction and I realize, with great embarrassment, that I’m standing on a stairway with two coffees in my hand gawking over a couple in love.

  “Hey,” the guy says.

  The woman swats at his shoulder and he eases her down to her feet.

  “Hi,” she says.

  “You coming or going?” he asks. He’s cute in a bad-boy way. Gorgeous wavy hair, that light scruff that half the men in L.A. bear. Laid-back appearance in jeans and a t-shirt. A look that suggests he didn’t spend an hour getting ready like I did.

  “Coming. Do you happen to know what apartment I can find Leo Vaughn in?”

  “Last one down,” the guy says.

  “Are you a friend of Leo’s?” the woman asks, stepping forward, placing her sunglasses over her eyes.

  “Not exactly,” I say.

  “Is he expecting you?” the guy asks, sliding his hand into the woman’s.

  “Um, not really. I’m kind of his PR rep.”

  The guy’s head falls back and I know right then that these aren’t just neighbors, they’re friends.

  “He told me about you. You’ve got one week, right?” he asks.

  I nod.

  The woman stares at him in disbelief. He mumbles something and then their gazes fall to me again. “Well, he should be home. I just saw him and Cooper return from their morning run about fifteen minutes ago.”

  “Oh, great. Thanks.”

  Cooper must be the boyfriend.

  “Good luck.” The guy and the girl each wave before they run across the street to a Mercedes SUV.

  “Thanks,” I murmur to myself.

  As I look up the last few stairs to his floor, they almost feel insurmountable. I’m taking a risk here. Leo obviously would prefer to work with someone more mild-mannered, but that’s not going to get the job done.

  Suck it up, Teegan. Show Fink and Deed what they’re missing out on.

  With determination in my step, I climb the remaining stairs and knock loudly on the door.

  No answer.

  I knock again.

  No answer, but scratching sounds come from the other side.

  I knock again.

  The scratching sound grows louder and more frantic.

  “Hold up.” Leo’s voice rings out from the other side of the door. “I’m coming.”

  The scratching stops and the door springs open. I pray Sophie’s right—that this man is gay—because if he’s not I’m going to need a straitjacket to keep my hands off him.

  “Hi.” I hold out the coffees between us and try not to eye his naked chest dripping with water too much.

  “How the hell did you find me?” he asks, no toothy grin on his face. More like the complete opposite.

  “I can’t reveal all my sources, can I?” I slide past him. “I need to follow you for the day. Get a feel for what your business encompasses and see what we can capitalize on.”

  The door shuts behind me and he crosses his arms. I divert my eyes away from his hard, rippled abs that are gloriously on display, being that he’s channelling Christian Grey walki
ng around barefoot in jeans with the top button unclasped. This man would prove tempting to a nun. I swear I’m being punished from above for something.

  “Why are you showing up at my condo unannounced?” He stands there with a big dog at his feet. A dog that has drool dripping from his mouth. Yuck.

  “And who’s your friend?” I try to move the conversation in another direction.

  He glances down. “My dog.”

  “Does your dog have a name?”

  Leo’s stare intimidates me and so I look away, taking in his modern condo that seems to have nothing out of place. Even his television remote has been neatly placed to the side of the television.

  “Teegan, I told you that you had a week and that doesn’t include invading my personal space.” He walks past me toward the hall. “Let me grab a t-shirt and I’ll escort you out.”

  Okay, I tried the nice approach. You can’t say I didn’t try. “Escort me? Yeah, get a t-shirt on and then we’re going to chat.”

  He stops walking, his neck slowly rotating back around.

  Shit.

  Too much?

  “I’ll be right back,” he says and walks out of view.

  A door slams shut and I place the coffee containers on the kitchen counter, taking them out of the holder. Opening my lid, I realize that they forgot my creamer. A woman can’t be expected to operate at peak performance without her coffee in the morning.

  I glance down the hall and don’t see or hear any movement. Surely, he won’t miss a little bit of milk, or if I’m really lucky cream. I rush over to the fridge, open the stainless-steel monstrosity, and grab the first white box I find. Pouring a droplet in, I quickly close the container and place it back in the fridge.

  “Are you looking to bulk up?”

  I whirl around to find Leo standing on the other side of the counter.

  “That wasn’t milk?” I ask, staring down at the coffee I’ve been dying to drink since its heavenly aroma filled my car.

  “Protein shake.” He rounds the counter, his cologne wafting past me. I just barely resist the urge to close my eyes and inhale deeply.

  “Can’t hurt.” I shrug and bring the coffee to my lips. The smell has my red blood cells dancing in my veins at the promise of caffeine that will soon be surging through them.