Page 16 of One Bossy Date
Two dogs.
Two black dogs.
Twohugeblack dogs.
They were not only jet black, but enormous, with fierce eyes and wide-open mouths.
Rottweilers.I’m as good as dead.
I was going to die, and the last thing I’d see would be a monstrous dog’s tongue dripping with blood. The last thing I would smell would be the stench of wet dog. My heart felt like it stopped right then and there, but I had no time to even think about being scared, because as soon as they reached me, tails wagging, they bowled me over—into the jacuzzi—and followed merightin.
Along with my own panicked screech, sounds of splashing water hit the wooden decking.
“Help, no!” I shouted, worried about the dogs attacking me and about my whole ‘being wet’ situation (andnotthe good kind). “No, no,no.”
By some miracle I managed to hoist myself over the edge of the jacuzzi and flop to the floor while the two beasts engaged with each other. A two-voice rumble and growl came from behind me. They were probably fighting over who got to take a bite out of me first. I tried to get to my feet, but I was scared stiff. As usual, my body tensed up from being surrounded by dogs. I pulled off my boots—slow-motion slowly—and emptied the water from them while sitting as still as a statue—because the two dogs were now suddenly on either side of my face. “Oh, my God…don’t panic, don’t panic…”
Why was I sitting there, emptying water from my boots with the beasts surrounding me, instead of fleeing the scene? Clearly an irrational, perfectly normal reaction to childhood trauma.
They weren’t just sitting there. They were sniffing and licking me!
What? Licking me?
Somehow, my panicked brain sensed that there was no eminent danger here. Or was there?
The dogs are no danger, I told myself.
They are just active, I told myself.Rascals.
I attempted to release the stiffness. It didn’t work.
Trying to ignore them (yeah, right), I had to deal with the situation as fast as I could because I was wet. My hair was wet. My clothes were wet. I was getting cold. I needed to get dry (also, the skirt would be ruined forever if I didn’t dry it soon). I slowly stood up,verymindful of the dogs, and nervously pulled the skirt off, then walked inside to find a dryer, the excited dogs sniffing at my calves. “Don’t follow me. No. Please, stop. Sit!”
As soon as I stepped through the door with my eyes cast downward, surveying the chlorine-soaked skirt, something else caught my eye—something extremely…
Manly.
Right in front of me, mere inches from my own naked yellow-painted toes, were two big bare male feet.
My body went rigid. My gaze shot up and latched on to the confused stare of two dark-brown eyes that I suddenly realized were somehow familiar to me. All I could think was,huge cock energy.
“You?” he asked, a frown deeply creasing his forehead.
It only took that one syllable, and I knewexactlywhere I’d seen those eyes before.
Mr. Have A Nice Life!
The sexy-as-sin man who hated my coffee.
“Um…yes, hi!” I blurted. “I’m Zoe—”
“We’ve met before,” he growled.
“Yes, of course…I know…”
“What the hell are you doing in my place? Why are you so wet?” His eyes dropped, taking in my wet body, and for a moment, they lingered on my breasts.
I glanced down.