Page 14 of Doggy Style

She looks over at Gidget, who’s already nestled on my sofa in a ball, snoring heavily, like she belongs there. “Why are you going to the pet expo? It’s heavily focused on dog rescue—not dog flipping.”

Ouch. “Just thought it would be a good opportunity to meet vendors, maybe find an investor. Have you ever been?”

She purses her lips. “No. I’ve always wanted to go. There’s always a big rescuer symposium. I bet I could learn about how to get grants and find more fosters.”

Bingo. I push back my chair and take another swig of my beer.

“Then come with me.”

She gives a startled blink, and I’m drawn into her beautiful eyes. “You’re crazy.”

“I’m crazy serious. All-expenses-paid. You can go to your rescuer events, and I can network.”

“Why would you even want me to go with you? In case you can’t tell, I’m not a fan of you. Like, at all.”

I smirk. “I can tell. But you don’t know me, Yessi. You just think you do. I’m pretty sure if you give me a chance, you’d see that I’m a good man.”

She shakes her head. “Nope. No way.”

I honestly can’t believe she didn’t just jump at the chance to go. “Come on. We will have fun.”

“Fun? You want to take me on an all-expenses-paid vacation to Hawai’i? What’s the catch?”

She can see right through me. “Fine, I’ll be honest. My ex was supposed to help me open the store and go with me to the pet expo, but she just flaked, literally minutes before I met you. And then I found you handcuffed to my store. Perfect timing, I’d say. I checked your Instagram profile, and you have a good following. I’ll be doing a bunch of social media promotion while I’m there. You also run a dog rescue, so you’re great with dogs, and then maybe your whack-job activist friends won’t sabotage my business.”

She shifts in her chair. I probably shouldn’t have insulted her activist friends, but it’s too late to take back my words. I feel like I’ve made some progress, but I can’t tell if she’s going to agree one way or another.

“Not gonna happen Evans. But I appreciate the offer.”

What will it take for her to say yes to me? “If you help me open Doggy Style, I’ll consider stopping the sale of purebred puppies at my store, and I’ll take you to the Pet Expo. We need someone who’s good with dogs, and you know everything about them.”

“Is this just some joke to you? Your store is already full of puppies. If some random girl helps you open your store, you’ll just stop selling them? Not to mention I will never, ever sell puppy mill dogs. That’s like asking a nun to work in a strip club.”

Ha. She’s hilarious. And now I can’t help picturing her dressed as a nun, but with some sexy lingerie underneath. Just the thought makes my cock stir in my pants.

She’s obviously going to make this hard. But I know what I want.

I want Yessi to help run my store. And I want her to come to Hawai’i with me. It’s a win-win. She clearly knows a lot about dogs—probably more than my ex does—and if Yessi works with me, then she can keep other protesters off my back. The investors I have meetings scheduled with may even trust me more if they think I’m linked to a charity.

Yup, I have to make her agree. I’ll sweeten the pot.

“I’ll also make a tax-deductible donation to your rescue for twenty-five thousand dollars. Do we have a deal?”

At first, her eyes widen, but then she rolls them and scoffs. “Are you serious? You can’t just buy people. And I can’t take money from you. I’m not one of those thirsty girls on your Instagram who will hop into your bed when you send them an emoji.”

I’m digging this chick more and more. Every time she tells me no, it just makes the hunt that much sweeter. “Look, it’s up to you. I’m opening the store with the purebred puppies we already have. I can’t return them at this point. But I could possibly be swayed to stop using breeders in the future and to feature shelter dogs instead. You could show me how.”

She runs a hand through her hair and looks to the ceiling as if she’s searching for answers. At least she’s finally considering my offer. I need something else to entice her, though twenty-five thousand dollars should be incentive enough. But Yessi seems to be motivated by more than just money.

I think for a second, and then I throw her another bone.

“How many dogs do you have in your rescue?”

“Twenty overall. I have six fosters, Avril has seven, and Eden, our other partner, has four. Then there are three at the vet.”

Damn, that’s a lot of dogs. “Tell you what. I’ll make you a deal—you help me open the store, and I’ll let you host adoption events there for all twenty of your rescue dogs. For the opening, you can bring all of them, including Gidget, and we’ll showcase them. But if you say no, then I guess I’ll see you protesting daily. I’ll even bring you coffee. Do you like it black or do you like pretty latte art?”

She scowls but answers me anyway. “Black, unless you have oat milk.”