MILE HIGH

52

No, no, no. I don’t do crying. Correction—I don’t do chicks crying. Especially ones that I’ve been with before. Comforting adds to the intimacy factor I’d like to stay away from, but apparently, no one told my feet that because without realizing it, they’ve carried me right to the sad flight attendant sitting on the curb.

Stevie’s head is buried back in her arms, not knowing I’m standing next to her as I eye the ground in contemplation. My pants cost more than some people’s weekly salary, but here I am, sitting my ass on a disgusting curb in the middle of disgusting downtown Chicago.

“You following me?” Nudging my shoulder into hers, I hope the humor will dissipate whatever the hell is going on right now.

It doesn’t.

Stevie looks up from her folded arms, her blue-green eyes rimmed in red. Her freckled nose is swollen and pink, and the sadness she’s wearing couldn’t be more obvious.

“Oh God.” She turns away from me, using the sleeve of her oversized flannel to wipe her nose and cheeks. “You should go. I don’t need you to see this.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yep.” She inhales a deep breath, trying to compose herself, her face still turned from me. “Totally fine.”

“Well, thank God. Because how embarrassing would that be for you if I caught you crying on a curb.”

Bringing my coffee to my lips, I hide my smile as she turns back to look at me, the two of us sharing a laugh. And her laugh sounds nice. A lot better than the sniffling she was trying to hide.

This time it’s my knee nudging into hers. “What’s going on?”

She readjusts the tiny gold hoop in her nose that got messed up when wiping it on her shirt sleeve. “A dog died.”

“Your dog?” My heart drops a bit for her.

“No.” She shakes her head, throwing a thumb over her shoulder.

Craning my neck around and upward, I read the sign on the run-down building behind us. SDOC—Senior Dogs of Chicago.

“I volunteer here, and one of our dogs died. He was twelve, and it was time, but it makes me sad that he was here and not at home with someone who loved him.”

Oh, f**k. This isn’t good. Stevie’s nickname is ironic because she’s never shown a sweet side to her. Not once. And now, sitting on this curb, she decides to tell me she’s actually a total sweetheart? I don’t know if I’m ready for that to be true.

“Well, did you love him?”

“Of course. But it’s not the same. He deserved his own home with a warm bed and an owner who loved him. They just want someone to love unconditionally, but instead, they’re stuck here.”

Unconditional love. What’s going on with the universe today that those two words are being thrown my way twice before noon?

“Have you ever been in love?” Stevie’s eyes are wide and curious, her question completely sincere.

Suddenly my chest feels tight, and words have evaded me because the topic of love should not be up for discussion with the last chick I had s*x with.

“Not that kind of love.” Stevie playfully rolls her eyes. “We all know you’re already in love with me.”

There she is. A bit more of her wild energy takes over, the sadness leaving from the air around us.

“Come on, Armani.” She stands from the curb, holding her hand out for mine. “You’re going to fall in love today.”

“These pants are Tom Ford, sweetheart.” I put my hand in hers, letting her believe she’s helping me up, but she’s not doing s**t as I stand from the curb on my own.

“Well, they could be from Walmart for all I care. It doesn’t matter the brand name. They’re about to be covered in dog hair.”

Typically, that’d be a hell no for me, but instead, I find myself wearing too big of a smile and following the curly-haired girl into the run-down building behind us.

The small entryway is bright and cheerful, each wall a different color. But you almost can’t see the paint due to the countless Polaroids overtaking the wall. New owners with their new dogs, smiles as big as could be, reminding you of the happy times this building has seen.

A large desk sits at the end of the entryway, and when I turn the corner, my eyes widen in shock. The next room over is littered with dogs. Some big, some small, some sprawled out on the countless dog beds, others being playful with each other.

But the thing I notice most of all is the way Stevie lights up when she opens the small gate separating the entryway from the pups. When she steps inside, her smile overtakes her face as a handful of older dogs come right to her, sniffing and licking, tails wagging.

They clearly love her as much as she loves them.

“You okay?” An older woman stands on the far side of the room. When Stevie nods, the lady shoots her a half-smile before taking off behind a door, leaving us alone.

“Come on, fancy pants.” Stevie opens the gate for me. “They aren’t going to bite.”

Them biting me is not what I’m worried about. I’m a big and commanding guy. Most dogs fear me, not the other way around.

What I am worried about is seeing this sweet side to Stevie. I’m not sure if I’m ready to know this part of her exists. I’ve already been too distracted by her body that I can’t get enough of, not to mention her smartass mouth. I don’t know that I can handle finding her soul attractive too.

Setting my coffee down on the front desk, I enter the large room full of dogs. The space is bright and eclectic, with all different colored rugs covering the floor. Big pillows are thrown about, and even more dog beds are positioned around the room. The far wall is lined with crates, where a couple of pups have decided to chill, regardless of their crate doors being open for them to come out and play.

A few dogs rush me, sniffing my legs and shoes. Not as many as the number surrounding Stevie right now, but still more than I assumed. I thought they’d be intimidated by my commanding presence. But it seems like they’re just excited to have a visitor.

“That’s Bagel.” Stevie motions to the Beagle sniffing my Louboutins.

“Bagel the Beagle? Genius.”