Boss On A Leash: A Single Dad Billionaire Romance Kara Hart (100 books to read .TXT) 📖

liquid collecting near the center in a small pool. I really don’t want to know what that liquid is.

I’m not pleased, but I know how to put on my good dad outfit. “Very nice, sweetie,” I say. “Where is Stacey?”

Stacey, the babysitter, steps into the hallway. She’s covered in some kind of thick paste. It looks like peanut butter, but I’m a little too scared to walk in and check. “Mr. Wylan,” she says with an expression of shock. “I am so sorry.”

I take a step inside as Sammy zooms right past me. She screams and flies from room to room, dogs at her heels. She’s like the Pied Piper of puppies.

My boots crunch on a piece of some glass. “I don’t understand what happened. When you called, everything sounded fine.”

She’s shaking. “Everything was,” she cries. “And then Sammy went to find Ragamuffin.”

As soon as I make eye contact with the little dog, it makes a whining noise and backs into the corner of the room. “She did all of this?”

Attempting to avoid persecution, Rowdy comes to my side. He nudges his head against my leg. Nice try. In my book, he’s guilty too.

She nods. “Yes. The other dog was fine,” she says. “Please, don’t sue me. I don’t have a lot of money.”

I plug my nose as my shoe smudges against a pile of dog poop.

It’s really bad. There are broken items on counters that look way too high for that little fluff-ball to get on. But then I see the low bar stool that Sammy sits on to eat breakfast. It acts as a perfect stepladder to my chair, which sits tall and near the table.

“Did Ragamuffin jump onto the counter using these chairs?” I ask.

“I’ve never seen a King Charles do something like that before,” she says.

“She’s… unique.”

“She’s a demon,” she cries. “I can’t stay another night here. I just can’t.”

Shit, shit, shit!

I was already stressed about tonight. Now, I’m at a complete loss. Ali’s not going to let this party thing go. Then again, this is a pretty good excuse.

I feel a smile forming.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats.

“Stacey, it’s fine,” I say. “The dog is clearly unhinged. I understand where you’re coming from.”

She takes a few steps forward, avoiding a rotting slice of pizza. “You... do?”

“I should’ve warned you,” I say, leading her to the front door. “When I bought her, she was so sweet.”

She walks down the front steps. “You should get her checked out, Mr. Wylan. Something could be going on with her,” she says.

She needs anger management for dogs. “I’ll do that,” I say.

Shuffling her out to her car, I pull out my wallet and count a few hundred dollars. Sensing that Ragamuffin might’ve left some unforeseen emotional scars, I flick through a few more bills. “Here. For the damages,” I say.

She looks at the money. “But the dog destroyed your house.”

I put the cash into her hands. “I have worse to worry about. Take the money. Buy something nice,” I say. “Or, better yet, invest it.”

Just watch what you buy. You never know when the thing you bought will come around to bite you in the ass.

After she leaves, I come around the side of the limousine with Rowdy. He jumps in, slobbering all over her. “That’s my good boy.”

I’m the bad boy about to ruin all the fun. Hope this works.

I put on my best frown, sighing as loud as I can.

Ali’s eyes dart to mine. “What’s wrong?”

Throwing my arms up, I look back at the house. “Ragamuffin destroyed everything. The front room, the stuff on all the counters, the kitchen...”

She goes to jump out of the vehicle. “The book?”

I scratch the back of my head, a little worried myself. It would suck to lose those relics. Plus, Ali really seems to enjoy them. I was looking forward to the day when she could read them to Sammy.

“I haven’t checked. Point is, the babysitter wasn’t too thrilled. She bolted,” I say.

“Okay,” she says, waiting for more of an explanation.

“She’s been our sitter ever since we moved in,” I say.

Truth is, it doesn’t matter who watches Sammy. I get my sitters from a dependable agency. Only the best get through those doors.

“What are you trying to say?” she asks.

I deflate. “I don’t think I can go to this office party tonight. Not that it’s going to be any fun.”

She twists her mouth and falls against the seat. Rowdy puts a paw on her shoulder. “Not now, Rowdy.”

I hate seeing her get sad, but this is for her own good. Meeting Jim isn’t a noteworthy experience; it fucking sucks. I’m sparing her the pain and torment of meeting him when he’s drunk.

“It’s just hard to get a sitter so fast,” I say.

“You got one last night,” she says. “Anyway, don’t rich people go through agencies?”

She’s onto me. “Yeah, but the place is wrecked. I’ll need to hire a maid, too.”

Nodding, she takes it in. I feel like she’s about to give up when her eyes flash with sudden excitement. It’s like a light goes off in her head. She checks her phone for the time and smiles. “We have eight hours.”

“Seven,” I say. In reality, it’s about seven and a quarter, but who’s counting?

“You hire the cleaners,” she says.

“It could take days to clean,” I say.

She holds out her hands, telling me not to worry. Of course, I take them and squeeze because I'm a slave to the feeling she gives me now. “What’s wrong?” she asks. “Is it something to do with last night? You didn’t have fun with me?”

Her eyes glow. Every time I look at her, I see another piece of her that I can’t turn away from. It’s just a reminder of what is important. “I just don’t want to lose you,” I say.

She stops. Embarrassingly enough, my hands are trembling. I close my eyes and repeat the words. “I don’t want to lose you.”

I wasn’t expecting to come out and say it, but there it is. That’s why I’m