dangle

chapter 3 - tour. here. you.

"105," he said.

"105?" I asked dumbly, shaking my head in disbelief. That was the unit next door to mine. The one Jerry left the keys for. It couldn't be. But this was awfully elaborate for a joke.

Hunter tilted his head, furrowing his brow. "Wait—you live here too?"

"Potty, mommy," Jackson piped up.

"Just a sec, sweetie."

His gaze drifted down to where Jackson was half-hidden, confusion registering again briefly. Then he smiled. "Hey, kiddo."

Jackson, reminded that he was not in fact invisible, darted behind my leg again.

"Sorry." He chuckled. "Are you the nanny?"

"What? No. I'm his mom."

He looked about as confused as I felt when he heard that. "Oh... Oh. Uh, cute kid." Raking a hand through his perfect golden hair, he continued. "Anyway, would you happen to know where the building manager is? I'm in a bit of a bind and he said I could take possession today if I needed."

Over his shoulder, in the background, something black poked its head out of the driver's side window. All I could make out were big pointy ears. From the distance, it looked like it might have been a cat. But who would take a a cat for a car ride? Maybe rich people were weirder than I thought.

"Puppy!" Jackson exclaimed, pointing with a chubby finger. Clearly, one of us needed a vision checkup because when I squinted, I saw that he was right. He started to bounce up and down, doing a little dance on the spot. "Puppy, puppy, puppy!"

He glanced back over his shoulder, shielding his eyes with his hand. "Oh, yeah. That's Gus." He looked down at Jackson. "Want to meet him? He's friendly."

Jackson looked up at me pleadingly. No words were necessary. We all knew what was going to happen.

"Yes," I said. "You can meet the puppy."

A moment later, Hunter returned holding a small black dog with a flat face and oversized ears. He set the dog down and it trotted up to Jackson, snorting and sniffing him, as Jackson squealed with delight.

"Use gentle hands," I reminded Jackson. I studied the dog, trying to figure out what exactly it was. Short, flat coat, stubby tail, bat-like ears. It was cute, in a funny-looking way

"Is it some kind of pug?" I asked.

"Frenchie. Er, French bulldog."

"Ah."

We lingered for another moment, watching the cuteness overload of Jackson and Gus. Jackson squatted down, patting Gus gently, while the dog just looked thrilled to have someone close to his size.

I chewed on my lip, using the lull as an opportunity to sneak a peek at him again. Strong jawline? Check. Perfectly maintained stubble? Check. Body sculpted in a gym? Double freaking check.

It was both impossible and unfair. A reverse Coyote Ugly scenario. Unlike everyone else in the history of humankind, Hunter was better looking in broad daylight than at the bar.

Then there was me. At least the first time I saw him, I'd been done up nicely my disappearing date. Today, my hair was in a sloppy bun and I was wearing an old black tank top that said 'Coffee is Life', cheap gold flip-flops, and olive green athletic shorts. And on top of that, I was sweaty and disheveled from wrangling Jackson in the scorching sun.

Self-consciousness washed over me. I needed to get this show on the road, stat. Preferably with a quick reapplication of deodorant before I did.

"I'm sorry." I shook my head, trying to clear it. "What was your name?"