Our discussion at the winery about him in the shower this morning pops into my head. Even though I’m his fake girlfriend, I have to admit that him confessing his thoughts about me while he stroked himself this morning made everything between us feel very real. And now this perfectly kempt man, who doesn’t like a hair out of place, is covered in mud from trudging through a wet forest to rescue Baxter? My heart and my panties can’t take it.

I peel my gaze away from Barrett’s muddy appearance, because if there’s anything more attractive than a man getting wet and dirty while rescuing a scared animal, I’d be hard pressed to find evidence.

“I’ll give him a bath while you clean up. I mean, not in the same bathroom.” Again, my mind goes back to watching Barrett naked in the shower, so I laugh to keep from turning beet red. It doesn’t stave off the embarrassment so I gather Baxter in my arms. “I’ll have Lucy help me. Okay, bye.”

I leave Barrett standing in the kitchen, amused with my awkward departure, I’m sure.

Lucy helps me draw a bath and keep Baxter relaxed while I suds him up. Once he’s clean, I dry him with a towel, but he manages to escape and shake, sending water all over us.

We return to our bedroom, Baxter clean and dry, while I am now muddy and smell like wet dog from wrangling him in the tub.

Barrett’s not there.

The shower is empty. I knocked at least fifty times before I opened the door. So, after settling Baxter onto his dog bed, I gather some pajamas and take a shower myself.

We’ve been in the Hamptons one day, yet it feels like so much has happened. My body is exhausted, and my head has a slight ache from all the wine I consumed earlier. The buzz I had at the winery is long gone, chased out by the adrenaline and panic I felt when Baxter was missing. I long for the loose-tongued Chloe that told Barrett about her sexual inexperience. Now, I’m just a ball of nerves wondering if Barrett will deliver on his promise to right that huge injustice.

When I exit the bathroom, the bedside lamps are on and I find a shirtless Barrett on his laptop, the computer screen casting a glow on his chiseled torso and arms. In the middle of the bed, curled up next to him, is Baxter. Apparently, the no dogs on beds rule has been broken, at least for tonight.

Barrett looks up from his laptop.

“Hey.” I wave.

“Hi,” he says, his eyes lingering at the chest of my t-shirt a moment longer before they drop back to his computer.

On the bedside table I find a glass of water and two ibuprofen.

My eyes dart to Barrett. “Thank you.”