It Matters To Me (The Wandering Hearts Book 2) (7 page)

I fight the desire to ask him what he’s packed for, reminding myself of the cash waiting for me at the end of the job.
Shut up and keep your eye on the prize.

I smile and murmur, “I think I’ve managed to tire them out.”

He looks over my shoulder, noticing that the once-yapping pack of beasts are now sitting calmly and eagerly waiting for my next move.

“Wow, you’re like the dog whisperer or something.” The cool exterior he greeted me with when I first arrived apparently melted away while he was in the shower and left behind what appeared to be a civil human being.

“Thanks, I guess,” I say, focusing on the animals.

I do my job. What I’m being paid to do. Focusing on each puppy, making sure Aiden has nothing to worry about except getting the perfect shot. I try to anticipate every need before he asks. His eyes shift to the lighting, so I pop up to adjust it. He tilts his head, unsure of the puppy’s position, so I add a pillow for the dachshund to hop onto, its bottom half hanging off and wagging wildly. I’m the perfect assistant. An assistant who avoids staring at her insanely sexy boss, and instead, handles her job with the utmost professionalism. It isn’t easy.

Aiden’s eyes no longer linger either. He’s in the zone, his attention completely on what’s happening through the camera lens. It’s exciting, and I feel like I’m part of creating something, even if it’s just a charity calendar for a shelter. Best of all, I’m not thinking about Ben.

The work is done. I place the puppies back in their crates and wait, off to the side. “What will happen to them?” I say in an almost whisper, half expecting him not to answer me.

His focus is on his camera, as he plugs a cable into the side of it and then into the computer on the small desk by the window. He glances over briefly, before returning his attention to the screen, images suddenly popping up. “The dogs?” he starts, then shrugs. “These twelve, I suppose they’ll be the lucky ones.”

“What do you mean?”

“This calendar will guarantee the ones that might not be adopted by the time it gets released will get adopted. Everyone wants a little fame in their lives. Even if it’s as simple as their pet,” he answers.

“What happens if they don’t get adopted?” I ask, worried I may not like the answer.

“It’s a no kill shelter, so not much, but they can only take new dogs as current dogs are adopted. Every dog they can’t take in goes to other shelters without as humane policies,” he explains.

I waive my hands, not wanting to think about the truth. “Okay, I get it.”

He shrugs. “You asked.”

Thinking about his early statement, I interject, “And by the way, not everyone is looking for fame.” I’m not sure why his cynicism annoys me so much.

“If you say so.” He shrugs. “Oh, here, before I forget.”

Aiden grabs a folded over stack of cash from inside a tin box on the corner of his desk. He crosses the room to where I’m standing and places it in my open hand, before quickly returning to the computer.

“Thanks,” I say, shoving it into my pocket, assuming it would be rude to count it in front of him.

“We got some great shots,” he adds, not shifting his attention from the images shuffling past on his computer screen.

“Good,” I answer.

“Did you enjoy it?” He asks me.

“What, the job?” I ask, not waiting for a response before answering my own question. “I just got paid to play with puppies all day. What do you think?”

He laughs, without turning to look at me, still sifting through the images on his screen. He waves a hand, motioning me over. I approach, staring at the pictures fluttering across the screen. “Check ‘em out,” he suggests, standing upright, creating a pathway for me to get to the computer.

“Oh, my God,” I gasp, genuinely surprised by the quality of the pictures.

“We make a good team,” he adds, and I can feel his eyes on the back of my head. The job is over. There is no longer a reason for me to be here and suddenly the awkwardness of what to say next comes creeping in.

I twist and look at him. His brooding demeanor has faded away, and he’s now glowing. I can’t help grinning.

“What?” he asks, seeing my expression.

“You really love what you do, don’t you?” I inquire, shifting, and moving a couple of steps toward the exit.

He’s considering my question. “I suppose it can be rewarding sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?” I say jokingly.

He cocks his head, his mouth turning downward, “Shoots where I get to do something for a good cause are pretty rewarding. It’s the ones where I get to spend all day taking pictures of glossy burgers or head shots of pretentious businessmen sitting behind their big desks so they can put the image on their unimportant websites where they sell their message of excess to the world that can be kind of draining.”

“Wow, be sure you don’t sugar coat it.”

“Again, you asked,” he reminds me.

“So why take those jobs if you hate them so much?”

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret of the photography world,” he moves in close like he wants to whisper something into my ear. “Animal shelters don’t pay well.”

He steps back and looks at me, waiting for my response. I don’t have one. Money pays the bills. That’s why I risked coming to a stranger’s apartment. I turn to walk to the stairs. “Well, thanks, I guess. It really was fun.”

I linger for one more uncomfortable second before sprinting down the stairs.

Walking outside, the bright sun blinds me for a brief moment. I stop, waiting for my eyes to adjust. Drawing in a deep breath of air, I blink multiple times before reaching into my pocket and pulling out the newly received cash. Quickly I count it, before smiling.

“It’s all there,” I hear from behind me.

My breath falters as I turn to see Aiden leaning his shoulder against the doorway. I still can’t believe how good he makes a white t-shirt and baggy sweatpants look. “I know,” I reply defensively.
Damn, he’s like a stealthy little ninja.

He grins. This infuriates me because it’s one of those grins where I can tell he knows what he does to me. I press my lips together firmly, determined to extinguish the heat he has created inside of me.

“Um, well, I turned around, and you were gone,” he says.

“Yeah, sorry,” I reply, swiping my finger across my phone, keeping my concentration on anything but him. “I couldn’t get reception in your place, and I needed—uh—to order an Uber.”

“Oh hell, you don’t have a car?” he asks, shifting uncomfortably while shoving his hands into his pockets as if he’s searching for something.

“Yeah, it’s no big deal.” I shrug my shoulders, sighing a breath of relief when I see on the app that the driver will arrive in three minutes.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have any more cash on me, but—” he stops, looking over his shoulder up the stairs.

“It sounds like the pups are getting rowdy again,” I say smiling.

“Kenzie, you did an excellent job today. Let me thank you by taking you out to dinner.”

My brows narrow. Is he trying to ask me on some sort of date? “It’s a job. You thanked me by paying me what you said you would. Well, that and by not being a psycho serial killer and chopping me up into a million pieces.”

He laughs and adds, “Jesus, you’re funny.”

“Seriously, we’re good. Thanks for the work.” I wave the money between us before shoving it into my shoulder bag.

“I’m serious, you did a great job, and I want to take you out to dinner to discuss business,” he continues.

“Business?”

Another thundering thud comes from the loft. He turns to look up the stairs in a panic, then turns back to me. “Yeah, would tonight work?”

Considering that was probably the most fun I’ve ever had at any job, I nod.

“Text me your number and I’ll send you the details,” he shouts over his shoulder as the door automatically shuts behind him. I realize I’m smiling as the Uber driver pulls up. I get in the car, and in a panic check my back pocket to ensure I still have his card with his number. It’s there. I squeal, and the Uber driver gives me the ‘you’re weird’ glare as well.

I
STARE IN THE MIRROR,
questioning my outfit choice. Does it say professional or … frumpy? Frumpy. Absolutely. Outfit choice one screamed uptight Catholic girl; two shouted horny girl open for business, and now I’ve rocketed straight to frumptastic.

What am I doing? Are you an idiot, Kenzie? What are the odds this is actually a business dinner?
I blow out a breath of air, my lips flapping wildly as I wonder if my doubt as to Aiden’s motives is from wisdom or hope. I shake my head, returning to my closet, pulling out my favorite skinny jeans with the tattered hole in the knee.

My head snaps to where I dropped my bag near the door. A reminder sounds of an earlier ignored message. I walk over and retrieve my phone. Half expecting to see Ben’s name on the screen, I breathe a sigh of relief when I spy the text that is there instead.

Anna:
You alive still?

Smiling, I type my reply.

Me:
Barely.

Though I failed to mention my photography job to my bestie—let’s be real here, it was only supposed to be one gig— apparently, my mother had taken it upon herself to call and fill her in on all the details. Perhaps it’s my fault for clueing my mother in on the fact that Aiden was a mega hottie. Either way, as soon as I was in the car, heading home, I discovered a voicemail from Annabelle informing me she expected a full debriefing.

Anna: :/

Not funny.

Me:
A little funny.

Anna:
So everything was okay?

Me:
Yep.

Anna:
Vague much?

Me:
Not much to tell. He did slip in dog crap.

Anna:
Gross!

Me:
Not all bad.

Anna:
How is dog crap not all bad?

Me:
It meant he had to shower.

Anna:
Alone?

Me:
Yes! But …

Anna:
But what???

I wait. Saying nothing. Knowing the silence is torture. I type a few letters to give the appearance I’m replying then delete them, delighting in her frustration.

Anna:
Let me guess, he talks from his genitals?

Me:
LOL! How exactly does that work?

Anna:
You know what I’m saying ;)

Me:
Not sure if he was even interested. Guess we’ll see tonight.

Anna:
You slut! What’s tonight?

I laugh.

Me:
Please. Hope you know me better that that.

Anna:
I stand by my previous statement.

Me:
He says it’s business. Quit worrying. It’s in a public place.

Anna:
What about Ben?

Me:
How many times do we need to do this?

Anna:
Until I’m convinced this isn’t just a fight.

Me:
IT’S NOT!

Anna:
Do you miss him?

Me:
Yes, but I’m not mad it’s over.

Anna:
Sad?

Me:
Maybe. All I know is I need to work on me right now.

Anna:
Holy hell, my Kenz is sounding so grown up.

I send the most unflattering picture I can of me flipping her off.

Anna:
Keeping it classy.

Me: ;)

Anna:
I love you too, babe. Have fun. Call me!