can happen?
Just like earlier, he opens the passenger door for me. If I were keeping a list of qualifications, I’d add “gentleman” to it. His grasp is firm, and once I’m out of the car, he shakes my hand and says, “Pierce Griffin Aldridge.”
“Leyla,” I answer, staring at his hand swallowing mine.
Is it weird that I like him touching me?
“No last name?” he asks.
“It’s complicated,” I answer. “It’s more like a need-to-know basis.”
“So, like a fifth date kind of information exchange?”
“Probably a third-year anniversary confession,” I joke.
“By then you might have my last name, and what’s the point of even discussing it, right?”
I chuckle and nod. “Clearly, we understand each other. In any case, we can’t leave Buster in the car for too long. Let’s do this fast.”
The good thing about grocery stores is that they have everything needed for pets in a couple of aisles. Unfortunately, they don’t have much to choose from.
“Tomorrow, you can go to the pet shop I like,” I inform Pierce as he drives us to his house.
“I thought you said you couldn’t have pets. Why would you have a favorite?” he questions suspiciously.
“Yes, but as a veterinarian, I need to know where to send people, don’t you think?”
“Sensible,” he agrees with me. “So, can you explain what you are? A vet, a surgeon, an intern—”
“Complicated,” I respond.
The less we know about each other, the better.
“I’ll find out,” he says, but it’s more like he warns me.
It doesn’t surprise me that he pulls into the underground garage of one of the most exclusive high rises in Denver. Just when I thought he could be somehow different, he proves me wrong. And what do you know, he lives in one of the penthouses. The floor-to-ceiling glass wall showcases the view of the city and maybe the mountains, but it’s too dark to see them. Looking at the ground floor, I spot a swimming pool.
“This is better than a hotel,” I say, following him to what I believe is his home office. There’s not much in there: two bookcases, a desk, and a chair. I set up the new bed for Buster, and he places him on top of it.
I’m tempted to tell him that though his apartment is gorgeous, Buster needs a bigger space. He might think this is temporary but I can see these two getting along. This should be his forever home. Now, the guy is going to be around 85-90 pounds and 27 inches tall. Maybe that’s a conversation for another day.
Not that I should talk to him about what’s to come in the next few weeks and months while he and the pup get to know each other. We are just two strangers who are thinking about the well-being of a dog. Tomorrow, I’ll be heading home and will never see him again.
“Wine, beer, water?” he asks, heading to his open kitchen. There’s a tall counter in the middle with hanging lamps over it that gives it the feel of a bar. I take a seat on one of the barstools and look around the place.
The stylish leather couches and dark furniture perfectly match the dark wood floors. It’s simple and classy.
“I should say ‘water,’ but I could use a glass of wine,” I accept.
“Have you had dinner yet?” he asks.
“I’m fine,” I answer.
“I take that as, ‘Yes, I’d like dinner, but I won’t accept food from you.’ I’m sure if I ask what you’re in the mood for, you’ll answer with ‘Whatever,’” he states. “Once I offer pizza, you’re going to say, ‘No, I’m vegan.’ Then, I’ll have to search for bread and peanut butter because that’s all I have to offer.”
“Ha, as if,” I protest. “I’m a picky eater, so I wouldn’t let you just choose my food. Pizza wouldn’t be my first choice—some places don’t know how to cook the crust. We barely know each other. How can you expect us to compromise on which toppings we’ll add or if we want extra cheese or no cheese?”
“You’re vegetarian,” he assumes.
“Why would I be vegetarian?” I challenge him.
He looks at me and shrugs. “You seem like a tree hugger, cow lover, carrot eater.”
I glance at myself. I dress like any average twenty-six-year-old: t-shirts, hoodies, jeans, and comfortable shoes. If I were wearing one of my peasant blouses I would understand his assumption. Then again, this guy might be used to women who wear tight dresses, high heels, and do more than comb their hair after they shower.
“I do love cows,”