Someone was home!

I felt all the color drain from my face.

Oh my God.

I need to get the hell out of here!

Panicking now, I looked for a place to leave the hair clip. Finding nowhere suitable, I balanced it on the top of the doorknob, thinking someone would either see it or, if they didn’t, it would fall to the floor when the door opened and snag their attention.

Then I started to haul ass back down the stairs. My heart was pounding so fast, it felt like I was running from the scene of a crime instead of doing a good deed returning a little girl’s favorite hair clip.

I made it only a few steps when I heard a clanking sound from behind me—the sound of a lock opening. Freaking out, I kept going . . . until a deep voice stopped me in my tracks.

“Hey. You. What are you doing?”

Oh. My. God.

I closed my eyes. That voice. Of course, I’d only heard Sebastian Maxwell speak briefly at the carousel, yet I was 100 percent positive it was him. That deep, rich, sexy baritone rasp totally went with the rest of the package.

When I didn’t respond, he snapped again. The second time louder.

“I said, where are you running to?”

I took a deep breath, realizing I was going to have to face the consequences of my actions, and slowly turned around.

Jesus Christ. Sebastian was even better up close. It looked like he’d just gotten out of the shower. His hair was wet and slicked back, and he had on a simple white T-shirt and gray joggers. Standing so close, I became mesmerized by the color of his green eyes—they were so unusual, not hazel or the green color that most people have, which resembles jade or moss, but the bright color of a brilliant emerald, and the areas surrounding his pupils were filled with flecks of gold.

“You’re late,” he barked.

“Uh . . .”

“The bell isn’t working. I have to fix it this weekend. So you’re going to have to knock a little harder and be on time if you want this job. I have to leave for work in five minutes.”

“Job?”

“You are the dog trainer, aren’t you?”

His beautiful eyes were boring into me, and it made me more than a little nervous. In the moment, I felt like he could see straight through me and was going to think that I was some sort of a crazed stalker of his ten-year-old daughter. I mean, I was, of course, but there was no way I wanted him to think that. So I panicked.

“Umm. Yes. Sorry I’m late. Umm. Traffic.”

What the hell am I doing?

He motioned toward the house. “Well, hurry up. Let’s go. I don’t have all day. I’ll introduce you, and then you’re on your own. Have him back in an hour. The babysitter will be here by then, and she’ll take him when you return. Whatever commands need to be learned for homework, teach them to Magdalene. She’s here more than I am anyway.”

I hesitated but began to walk back up the stairs again. My knees shook more and more with each one. When I got to the front door, Sebastian was already inside. I took a few cautious steps into the vestibule, and out of nowhere, I was attacked.

Alright. So “attacked” might not be the right word. But I was suddenly knocked on my ass, with two giant paws pressed to my chest holding me down. And the biggest tongue I’d ever seen began to slurp the side of my face.

“Marmaduke,” Sebastian yelled. The giant black-and-white-spotted Great Dane looked over his shoulder and practically laughed at the big, angry man looking down at him. He then proceeded to go back to licking my face.

After the shock wore off, I was somehow able to push the behemoth off me. I wiped the saliva from my face and climbed to my feet, only to find Sebastian looking not so happy. What the hell? I was the one who had just gotten pillaged, not him.

He put his hands on his hips. “I seriously hope that wasn’t a demonstration of your training skills. You had less control over him than I do.”

I got annoyed. “What do you expect? He knocked me over without warning. Nice of you to extend a hand to help me up, by the way.”

Sebastian scowled. “You don’t look German.”

I dusted off my pants. “Well, that’s probably because I’m not.”

He squinted at me. “Then why do you teach your training commands in German?”

Oh shit. “Umm.” I blinked a few times before pulling an answer out of my ass. “Please don’t start questioning my methods already. If you don’t want me to train your dog, who clearly needs training that you’re not capable of providing, then say so, and I’ll just be on my way.”

The corner of Sebastian’s lips twitched upward. “Fine. I’ll get his leash.”

Seriously? What the hell was I doing? I had needed a visit to Dr. Emery to discuss my actions surrounding a little girl who had written to Santa. What did pretending to be a dog trainer who taught commands in German warrant, then? Being institutionalized? Lord, how the hell did I get myself here?

Sebastian came back with the leash and handed it to me. I was surprised when he softened his tone and extended his hand. “I apologize. I didn’t introduce myself. That dog just gets the best of me sometimes. I’m Sebastian Maxwell, and I assume you must be Gretchen.”

Gretchen. Of course! Because the woman not from Germany who trains in German would logically be named Gretchen. I put my hand into his large one and shook. The minute my skin made contact with his, my pulse took off like a runaway train. When his grip tightened around my hand, it sent a shock of electricity up my arm. Great, more unsettling behavior to discuss with Dr. Emery—though it did make sense that I lit up like a Christmas tree, since I was damn Santa Claus. I’d need a loan to pay for my therapy sessions after today.

Pulling my hand back, I focused on getting the hell out of there. Apparently, I’d be taking my new student with me. I managed to clasp the end of the leash onto Marmaduke’s collar and did my best impersonation of a professional animal handler. “Okay. So I’ll be back in an hour.” I tugged at the giant dog’s collar, and amazingly, he followed. Just to solidify that I was totally losing it, I turned back at the top of the steps and smiled at Sebastian Maxwell. “Danke.”

After I said it, I started to question whether that was even German for “thank you” or not. Oh well, too late if it wasn’t. Marmaduke bolted down the stairs, and I had to run to keep up. At the bottom, I stood my ground and yanked hard on his leash.

“Whoa . . . ,” I said.

Shit. Whoa? That was for a horse and in English, wasn’t it? I looked over my shoulder and back up the stairs, hoping Sebastian had gone back inside and hadn’t heard me. Of course, I had no such luck.

Sebastian stood at the top of the stairs watching me. He looked really damn skeptical.

Yeah, you and me both, dude. You and me both.

Marmaduke and I went to a nearby park that had a doggy run, which meant I could let him off the leash in the fenced-in area while I googled dog training.

I spent a good half hour reading up on the basics of schooling a dog on obedience and then asked Google for reasons to train a dog in German. Surprisingly, it was more common than I would’ve guessed. Many people trained dogs in the native language of the breed. And who knew . . . a Great Dane wasn’t actually Danish—it was of German descent. So that made sense, I guess. Plus, training in a foreign language made it easier for the animal not to get confused when others used common words near them. I also looked up a couple of words for basic training in German. Sitz, pronounced zitz, meant “sit.” Platz, pronounced plah-tz, meant “down,” and nein, pronounced nine, meant “no.” I figured Marmaduke desperately needed those three words in his life.