Paws off the Boss by Casey Griffin (best summer reads of all time TXT) 📖

A yellow cab skidded to a stop in front of an old Victorian house facing the park, and the driver’s door flew open to reveal a pair of long, bare legs ending in red stiletto cowboy boots. Piper stepped out, tugging her baggy top down over her jean skirt, and circled around to the passenger side. As she reached in for the pizza boxes, her hand fell on the empty breadstick bag.

She glared at her passenger, Colin, and by the look on his face, it was obvious he knew what came next: He was in crap. Piper continued to scowl at him, at that pitiful, remorseful expression, and the anger fizzled out of her.

Each time she gazed into those big brown eyes, she felt nothing but love for Colin, as strong as the day they’d first met. And when he leaned forward to kiss her cheek, she knew he loved her too, even if he couldn’t say it.

“Bad dog.” She wiped the Parmesan slobber off her face. “Those breadsticks were for the customer.”

Confused by the reprimand paired with a smile, the black dachshund tilted his head, ears flopping.

Piper tried to keep up the pretense a moment longer, but she relented with a sigh. “Oh, I can’t stay mad at you.” She gave him a scratch behind the ears.

He responded by licking her hand, as if to say, Yeah, I know; I’m pretty amazing.

“Now go hide.” She pointed to the floor. “My boss would kill me if he knew you were in here.” She was just lucky he didn’t regularly review the camera footage unless there was an incident.

Colin jumped down from the seat and parked his butt on the floor mat, his tail slapping the plastic as it wagged.

“Good boy.”

Grabbing the two medium pizzas—sans breadsticks—she headed for the door, overly aware of how cool and soggy the boxes felt in her hands. She shouldn’t have picked up that extra customer in the cab. They wanted to go only eight miles, but it had taken her completely out of the way to pick up Colin from home and then deliver the pizzas. Plus, they hadn’t even tipped.

She climbed the concrete stairs to the bright red door. The home sported a classic San Francisco Painted Ladies style, though not as nice as some she’d seen while delivering pizzas around the city—and she’d seen a lot. The paint peeled away from the siding, and cracks split the windowpanes. But, hell, it was better than anything she could dream of affording.

She considered what it would take to save the down payment to buy a house like that before she turned sixty. A fourth job, that’s for sure. And on top of graduating from the University of San Francisco, studying for her big exam, and volunteering at the dachshund rescue center? Yup, no problem! Who needed a life? Or sleep, for that matter? She could do it. She’d be fine. Fine, fine, fine. But for now, the apartment she shared with Colin and her unwelcome six-legged roommates would have to do.

Pushing the doorbell set in the orange trim, she prayed for college kids. College kids never complained; they’d eat anything.

But a middle-aged man opened the door, and by the sour expression on his face, it was clear he’d have a thing or two to say about her delivery.

She slapped on a giant grin. “Hello,” she said tooth-achingly sweet.

“You’re late.”

“I know. I’m so sorry. Traffic was crazy.”

He peeked over her shoulder at the taxi parked near the bottom of his steps, then he glanced both ways down the street. Seeing no other cars, he squinted an eye at her. “You a pizza delivery girl or a cabbie?”

“Right now, I’m a delivery girl.” As proof, she tapped the Tony’s Pizza logo embroidered on her shirt.

His eyes drifted down to her bare legs. With the oversized shirt, it almost looked like she was wearing nothing underneath. Well, she practically wasn’t, but he didn’t need to know that.

Piper’s face warmed despite the lack of clothing. “Sure hot out today,” she said by way of an explanation. He didn’t reply, so she held out a palm. “That will be twenty-six eighty, please.”

He counted the money out to the penny and exchanged it for the pizza. “Where are the breadsticks? There should be breadsticks.”

“They must have forgotten them at the restaurant.” She didn’t think he’d appreciate the real story. “Don’t worry. I already took the cost off your bill.”

She backed away from the door and hurried down the front steps, conscious that she was running late for her next gig. There would be some speeding involved to make it in time. But she could handle it. It was fine.

“Hey, this pizza’s cold!” he yelled after her.

Biting her lip, she waved. “Don’t worry about the tip.”

“Tip? Tip—”

She leapt behind the wheel of the cab and shut the door, which cut off the rest of his feedback. Throwing on her seat belt, she turned to Colin. “Hold on.”

She dropped her foot and gunned it all the way to the end of the street. Letting her cabbie skills take over, she raced across San Francisco, taking a shortcut through Chinatown to Montgomery Street.

Once Piper reached the Financial District, she checked her GPS for the address. A block later, the building came into view. She swerved into the taxi lane to park. Pulling out her phone, she read the text message from the telegram agency. Colin hopped onto the center console, planting his front paws on her thigh while she read the details of the job.

“Looks like I’m headed to the top floor.” Even when she leaned forward to look up through the windshield, she still couldn’t see the top of the building. She whistled. “Must be one important guy.”

Colin licked her ear to remind her that he was the only important guy around.

Snapping her fingers, she pointed to the floor. He resumed his hiding spot but whined to let her know he wasn’t happy about it.

“Good boy. I’ll only be five minutes, and then we’ll head over to the center to play with your friend, okay?”

He woofed. Hurry up.

Leaving the engine to idle, she detached the spare key and cranked the AC. She gripped Tony’s oversized shirt and peeled it off to reveal a tight plaid top, red tassels dangling oh-so-tastefully from the plunging neckline. Gathering what little dignity she could, she took a deep breath and climbed out of the taxi.

Piper adjusted the scraps of fabric her boss called a costume and popped the trunk. Bright balloons unfolded from the cramped space, floating up in front of her. She grabbed the strings before they could sail away. Each balloon had a different saying: Be mine, Love, Forever. Some had a picture of a heart.

Picking up a red cowboy hat, she slipped it over the chestnut waves of hair curling down her back and grabbed the box of Swiss chocolates. For the final touch, in case it wasn’t demeaning enough, she pulled out a toy horse head glued to the end of a wooden pole. With one more glance up at the sky-rise, she headed for the doors.

“Hey!” someone shouted behind her. “You can’t park here.”

Recognizing the voice, Piper rolled her eyes before turning around.

“Hello, Dom.”

The short, balding taxi driver wore a black leather jacket despite the humidity. He always gave her a hard time—probably because she’d scooped one too many customers from him over the years. But today she didn’t have the patience.

“What do you want?”

“Piper. I should have guessed.” He leered at her outfit, eyes pausing on the red tassels. “Finally gave in to your urges and took up prostitution, I see. How much you charging?” he asked, playing with the gold chain around his neck.

“More than you could ever afford.” She tipped her cowboy hat in farewell and turned to leave.

“Hey, I’m serious; this is a taxi lane. Not your personal parking spot.”

“I’ll only be a minute. I’m grabbing the customer from inside. The meter’s running. I swear.”

“Yeah, I bet.”

Ignoring him, she spun on her stiletto heel and strolled through the circulating doors. Her boots clicked on the marble floors as she walked up to the reception desk. The female security guard’s eyes slid over Piper’s cowgirl costume, pausing on her midriff—which wasn’t so mid as it was high, from hip all the way up to where her plaid shirt knotted under her breasts.

Piper pretended not to notice. “Hi. I’m here with Sam’s Old-World Singing Telegrams.”

“You don’t say?” The woman raised an eyebrow. “Flaunt it if you’ve got it, I suppose. I used to have a figure like that. Now, I got four kids.” She shook her head wistfully. “And who’s the lucky person?”

“Name is Aiden Caldwell. Some investment firm on the top floor.”

Slapping a book on the counter in front of Piper, she handed her a pen. “Sign here. And here. And I’ll need a government-issued ID.” She peered over the desk at the cutoff skirt that barely covered Piper’s butt. “If you have any pockets to put it in, that is.”

Reaching into her bra, Piper pulled out her driver’s license. “Mother Nature’s pocket.”

The guard