Love Arranged (Lakefront Billionaires, #3)(49)

“And you think those kinds of feelings go away?”

Before the cooking class, I would’ve said maybe, depending on the circumstance, but now…

“I thought so,” he says.

“I can’t like him, Rafa.” I shake my head, wishing I could turn back the clock so this conversation never happened.

Rafa carefully walks around the kittens and pulls me into his arms. “Why not?”

“Because he’s never going to feel the same way.”




Rafa is in the middle of paying the bill when a dog is rushed into the clinic, being carried like a baby in an assistant’s arms. We both pause our conversation, too distracted by the swarm of vet techs scurrying about, trying to find an empty exam room for the pit bull mix.

The pit bull’s brown eyes find mine, and my chest aches at the heartbreaking whine it lets out. There is something about the sound combined with the overall deteriorating state of the dog that makes me want to cry on its behalf. It is clearly malnourished to the point of having protruding bones, and its fur is in a state of disarray, the neglect evident to anyone who has eyes or a nose.

I’ve seen my fair share of abused animals thanks to all of Rafa’s rescue efforts and my time volunteering at the shelter, but this… This one hits me hardest, and I’m not sure why, but I want to walk over and pull the dog into my arms.

It’s hard not to feel attached when it looks at me and lets out this piercing sound that drills a hole through my heart.

“Where did they find the dog?” Rafa asks the person working the front desk.

“A junkyard not too far from here. The owner skipped town and left her tied to a pole for who knows how long.”

“Is she going to be okay?” My voice trembles.

“Daisy’s in critical condition thanks to some infection she got from another dog bite. The doc is going to do a full evaluation and blood panel now to see how bad it is, but he’s hopeful.”

“Her name is Daisy?”

“According to her collar, yes.” The secretary gasps. “Wait. You’re both named after flowers. How cute.”

I shoot her a soft smile. “Love it.” Before I can stop myself, I ask, “Will you call me once you have an update on her condition?”

The secretary hands Rafa’s card back. “Sure.”

Rafa looks at me, his eyes roving over my face before he turns to hand the secretary his card again. “I’ll cover the treatment costs.”

I give his bicep a squeeze and smile. “You didn’t have to do that, but thank you.”

“Consider it an adoption present.”

I jerk back. “I can’t get a dog. Mom’s allergic.”

“What about Lorenzo?” He smirks, and the secretary beams.

I shake my head with a laugh, not thinking much of his comment. I’m not going to adopt a dog with someone who plans on breaking off our fake engagement in a few months. That would be reckless, and while I have made some interesting decisions lately, I need to draw the line at adopting a dog.

Right?





CHAPTER TWENTY


Lorenzo


For the last couple of weeks, Lily and I have found a comfortable rhythm with our fake relationship. When I’m not meeting with constituents or preparing for the mayoral debate with Willow, Lily and I go on a few dates each week.

We have a picnic in the park and rent a rowboat so she can take photos of bouquets for her shop’s social media page, and we also attend the Strawberry Festival together.

I also make it a point to stop by Rose & Thorn multiple times throughout the week, and the four employees Lily hired have started to take a liking to me, especially when I arrive with coffee from the Angry Rooster Café or baked goods from Sweets and Treats.

Despite our strong public presence, I still haven’t been invited over for Sunday lunch, and I haven’t asked any more questions about it after Lily got visibly upset when I checked in to see if everything was okay with her sister, who has been out of town working on a project and skipped the Strawberry Festival.

Despite telling myself Lily was the one who got herself into this mess, I still feel bad about causing any kind of division between Dahlia and her. Or more so, I’m unhappy that Lily is upset, which is a cause for concern.

Like usual, I stop by Lily’s shop in the afternoon with her go-to coffee order. She is busy on the phone, so I take a lap around the shop while pretending not to eavesdrop.

“How much longer does she have to stay there?” Lily asks.

I don’t hear the other person’s reply, but Lily seems happy with it. “When do you think she will be transferred?”

Lily listens to the answer before letting out a huff. “Oh. That soon?” Another pause. “No, no! I’m happy she’s recovering well. I just need a little more time to sort out a few things.”

I’m itching to know more about this conversation, but Lily choosing not to use her speakerphone isn’t helping matters.

“Do you think you can give me another week please?” Her reply is followed by tense silence before she says, “Thank you! I hope I can figure out a plan by then.”

I stop in front of the counter, and she holds up her finger before spinning on her heels and giving me her back.

“Yes, I know.” Her shoulders slump. “Thanks again.” She hangs up. Instead of turning to greet me right away, she takes a deep breath first.