But I chase. Not because I want to but because it’s the right thing to do regardless of whether his owner mistook me for the dog walker or not.
It takes forever to corner the cute little bastard. He’s all snorts and wiggles and has the most adorable but ugliest face I’ve ever seen.
That is until he makes a dash to escape me.
It takes everything I have to not fall flat on my face when my heel gets caught in a rug. I hear the snap. Any woman who wears heels knows that sound and cringes before they even look down.
It’s broken.
My heel is broken.
And I have an interview.
I lift my heel and try to put it in back in place—the tack of the remaining glue and a few of the staples holding it in place by a thread—but know without even attempting to put weight on it, that it’s going to fall off if I try.
Of course this happens to me.
I shouldn’t even be surprised.
Deciding that I can stand on my tip toes and fake the heel being fine once I get to my interview, I take it off. With gritted teeth and the leash in my hand, I cringe when I check my watch, but getting the damn dog to move is impossible. Another few minutes pass before I finally get I-refuse-to-budge-Smudge to move. With enough coaxing, I limp back to the office.
The front room of the office space is empty when I open the door. Everything is sleek lines and dark wood. There’s an office to my right where it’s obvious someone usually sits but is vacant at the moment, and then there’s a dog bed in the corner between some sitting room chairs to my left. Obviously at home, Smudge waddles over to the dog bed and makes himself at home.
“Hello?” I start to say the same time laughter rings out behind a partially closed door in front of me.
“It was good. She was excellent. Hell, I might even go back for seconds,” Arrogant Aussie says with a laugh that matches the nickname I’ve given him.
“Never go back for seconds. They get sloppy and then complicated,” a deep unaccented male voice says—almost sounding as if it’s on a conference call speaker.
“You’re a dick.”
“You taught me well.”
“Listen,” Arrogant Aussie says, “no matter how we play it, mate, I need to act like I’ve been through the gamut.”
“You mean you have to pretend like you found love through this shit?” the other voice asks followed by a chuckle.
“Jack. I love you, you’re my best mate, but you’re going to fuck this up for me if you don’t pretend to at least be able to keep your johnson in your pants.”
“Like you’re one to talk,” Jack says as I shift on my feet, suddenly uncomfortable at overhearing this conversation. “I mean, you’re serving up hot chicks on a platter and you’re not expecting me to sample?”
“They’re on a server, a database, not a platter. And it’s a matchmaking site, not an escort service. Let’s make sure we don’t refer to it that way when we get Robert on the call.”
“You’re such a buzzkill, Zane.” Arrogant Aussie now has a name. “Are you telling me you haven’t been enjoying the perks?”
“But perks are better enjoyed on the side and out of sight, aye. Besides… love? C’mon, now. It’s me we’re talking about.” Sounds like a real winner and just like I pegged him to be when I saw him in the elevator. “Look Jack, I need Robert’s investment. The money’s not so much the issue—capital I’ve got—but it’s his connections that I need to help launch this properly. With his background and history in launching other major dating sites, he’s the man I need to help me. Besides, he’s told me he’s in love with the platform and has grand plans on how to make the platform noticed from the get go. Failure is not an option.”
“Then don’t fuck this up.” Jack’s laugh is sarcastic and the sigh I hear from Zane says it’s not welcome.
“That’s the plan.” A chair creeks. A cabinet shuts. I feel like a voyeur. Should I leave without telling him his dog is here? Should I wait?
“Look, in all seriousness, Robert is madly in love with love. He lost his wife of sixty years to cancer last year. They had that fairytale type of shit. High school sweethearts. Perfect marriage.”
“So he doesn’t get us?” Jack asks as they both laugh.
“No . . . love is shit.”
“Says the man who’s in love with himself.”
Nailed that one on the head.
“Asshole.”
“Prick,” he says like this is a normal exchange.
“Do me a favor Jacko,” Zane says, his tone becoming serious.
“Anything.”
“I need this to work. More than you know. You helped with the introduction. Since then I’ve been busy jumping through hoops to prove to Robert that this is the right company to put his weight behind. I even promised him to narrow down the spokesperson auditions to five so he could help with the final decision at the party on Friday.”