Boss On A Leash: A Single Dad Billionaire Romance, Kara Hart [free ebook reader for iphone .TXT] 📗

He narrows his eyes. “Are you accusing me of stalking you?”

I purse my lips and stare into his eyes. His warm and dreamy, bedroom eyes. “Maybe I am.”

Taking a breath, I linger in the scent of his cologne. It smells expensive. Everything about him reeks of money.

“This is ludicrous,” he responds.

And he’s right. It’s really stupid. The more I accuse him of following me, the more I want it to happen. But I made an oath to myself because I know how men like him are. And if he takes that dog, I’ll never forgive him.

“It must be easy knowing you can buy your way out of any bad situation,” I say.

That’s when I hear a noise. It’s a small thump that brings my eyes to what’s been behind him the whole time, holding onto the back of his pants. It’s a small child. “Dad? Are we still getting Ragamuffin?”

My heart...

This is a cruel joke. I can’t take a dog away from a little girl.

The breeder chuckles to himself, shaking his head. “I’ll go grab her while you two hash this out. If any of you draw blood, there’s a mop in the back.”

The cold-hearted-daddy-bastard tightens his tie. His smirk is practically tattooed on his mouth. “What if we end up kissing?”

“The nerve on you,” I gasp.

“Daddy,” his daughter moans, “be nice.”

He bends and kisses his daughter’s head. “Sweetie, this is grown up stuff. We’re just playing around.”

“Urg.”

The bossy jerk steps toward me, placing his hands out to show me he’s disarming himself. My eyes focus on his fingers. Ringless.

He lowers his voice and angles his eye at his daughter. “Look, if the dog was for me, I’d hand it over to you. But I can’t let her down again. She’s had a really hard year.”

Hm. So he let her down. Maybe I was right. He is a bastard.

Obviously I’m not going to steal the girl’s dog. After seeing her dad’s ringless finger, I feel like I need to back off a little bit. Their story could be more tragic than I can handle.

I clear my throat. “It’s for her?”

The little girl twists under his legs and squints, giggling. “Everything is for her,” he says.

It’s the kind of thing a man says when he’s trying to earn brownie points. However, it’s apparent that the girl loves him, and he promised her a dog. It would kill her to find out she’s not getting the cutest puppy alive.

Ready to admit defeat, I bend over and whisper to the girl. “Don’t worry, kid. You’re going to get the dog. I was just giving your dad a hard time.”

The little girl stares back at me, wide-eyed and silent for a second, before blurting out, “It’s okay, I give him a hard time, too.”

We both share a laugh, and I give her a fist bump for good measure. No, I didn’t end up with the dog of my dreams, but one girl gets to be happy. I’m grateful it’s her.

As for her father, my annoyance is still at a nine. My attraction is at about a four. It’s time for me to head out.

The sounds of barking filter through the back as the backdoor opens. The breeder is holding a King Charles in one hand, but his other is getting dragged forward by a very big, slobbery, and stinky St. Bernard. “I brought out another fan favorite, in case one of you is interested.”

Sensing the dog barreling toward me, I try to brace myself for an incoming wet kiss. Its feet slam against the tile like horse hooves. When I turn, the dog is already in the air. Its paws connect against my breasts, knocking me onto my ass.

The breeder’s eyes shoot open. “Rowdy, bad boy!”

I get a lot more than a kiss. Slobbering all over my face, the dog breathes rapidly, sniffing and humping the air above my head. This is me grabbing life by its balls. Unfortunately, it’s literal rather than the figurative example I was hoping for. My face feels like it’s on fire, and my biceps throb as I try to push the old dog off me. It’s heavier than I anticipated, and I think I’m losing.

After what feels like minutes, the breeder gets a hold on his leash and yanks him back. “Rowdy, what do you think you’re doing? She’s a human being, not someone you can breed.”

Oh. God…

Mr. Father-of-the-Century stands over the mess, peering down as the dog bucks back, barking. “See? It’s not so bad. He likes you already.”

The breeder chuckles. “Sorry ‘bout that. He’s not fixed.”

Whatever chance I had of turning this around has gone out the window. Before I was molested by that ogre of a dog, I was going to wish them well and leave. Now, I’m forced to do a walk of shame to the door.

The breeder is still staring at me. “Well, do you want him?”

I’m shaking. My money is on the table.

“I… I...” I don’t know what to say.

“He’s old, but he’s loyal,” the breeder says. “I’ll give him to you for two hundred.”

Glancing at the exit, so I can run for the hills, I nod my head. “S-S-Sure...”

I avoid eye contact with Mr. Moneybags as the breeder hands me the leash and a set of papers. “All right,” he says. “Rowdy is an old dog. Stubborn, too. Here’s what you have to do every morning...”

I’m not listening. I’m staring at Rowdy’s dripping-wet-lips, horrified by the outcome of this trip.

I’m not going home empty-handed. I’m going home full-handed. I have a new dog. His name is Rowdy. He may not be young or the cutest thing in the world, but he’s my dog.

Cocking my chin with pride, I sign some forms and head for the exit. Mr. Shark Tank is staring at me. I can feel it. When my hands hit the push bar, I open the door. However, I don’t step out just yet.

“Wait,” he says. “How can I find a way to run into you