by Susan Hatler
“Look . . .” I glanced in the general direction of the kitchen and then looked back to Cooper. “Our food should be here soon so let’s just ‘speed round’ it, okay?”
He nodded his consent and I sat back.
I waved my hand. “Toilet paper roll. Under or over?”
“Under is utter nonsense.”
“But when you put it over, you have to pull the paper down,” I explained, even though the logic should be obvious. “And when you have it under you get to pull it up and it’s a good reminder to pull up those around you and not pull them down.”
He gawked at me like I’d just proposed burning all traffic cones in a giant bonfire where we celebrate by driving around it in circles without seat belts at a hundred miles per hour. At least those strong-looking lips weren’t in a frown. But it made me yearn to see him crack just a teeny, tiny, itty, bitty smile.
I tapped my finger on the tablecloth. “Ocean or mountains?”
“Mountains. You?”
“Both.”
“That’s not the rules—”
“Cats or dogs?” I said, keeping the game moving.
His eyes darkened in color. “A cat bit me as a child.”
I widened my eyes. “Can’t imagine why.”
If it were possible there seemed to be even more animosity fuming between the two of us when the waiter returned with the house salad and a cup of clam chowder. He put down the plates like they were scalding hot and hurried away without asking if either of us wanted freshly cracked pepper (probably hadn’t wanted to risk staying longer).
We ate in silence punctuated by passive aggressive spoon clanging or knife scraping. If there was a record for fastest consumption of a meal at The Boat House we most certainly shattered it. Like a photo finish, we both dropped our utensils at the same moment and stared at each other, each insisting through eye contact alone that they were first.
Cooper was so stubborn that he couldn’t even admit that I finished my meal first. Or at least just give it to me. He had no problem giving me the ticket after all. I was ready to pronounce this date officially the worst of all time when out of the corner of my eye I saw a man walk over to the table with the six men in suits. He started shaking hands with them and most of the patrons turned his way as if they recognized him. Huh.
“Officer Hill,” the man said as Cooper stood up. “What a coincidence seeing you here.”
“Good evening, Mr. Mayor.”
Well, it clearly wasn’t John Mayer. But was it the Mayor of Sacramento?
Cooper turned to me. “Mr. Mayor, this is my . . . acquaintance, Abigail Apple.”
“Hi,” I said, shaking the Mayor’s hand and wanting to ask him if he could get me out of a speeding ticket. How did Cooper know the Mayor?
“Hill, we are very much looking forward to hearing which charity the committee selects next week. I understand it will be a very difficult decision.”
The Mayor was clearly not speaking to me, but I butted in nonetheless. “Um, sorry, selects for what?”
The Mayor turned to me and smiled a wide “camera ready” smile before he said, “The city is running a charity drive. Officer Hill is heading the committee that will select which charity will receive the donation.” The Mayor returned his attention to Cooper. “We are very proud of all the hard work you’ve put into—”
“Donation, as in money?” I asked.
The Mayor’s expression revealed a slight annoyance as he turned to me after my interruption. “Yes,” he said, looking me up and down and seeming to notice my haphazard appearance. “Officer Hill has helped raise a hundred thousand dollars to donate to the charity selected by the committee.”
He made another move to turn back again, but I reached for his arm.
“Any charity?” I asked.
“Yes, any charity,” he explained, seeming to resist the urge to roll his eyes at my continuing interruptions. “The eligibility requirements are on the city website.”
My heart leapt. “Any charity like, say, a wonderful dog rescue?”
“Yes, yes, I suppose.”
One hundred thousand dollars? That should keep Reagan’s dog rescue alive for a long time, regardless of how high the new landlord tries to raise rent. A hundred thousand dollars would mean those dogs could get to keep their home: the sunshine and the rolling hills and the shady oak trees and the warm barn at night. A hundred thousand dollars for Reagan’s charity would make today way less terrible. It could maybe even bump it up to Not A Bad Day at all.
I turned to Cooper. “And you decide which charity?”
He nodded. “Well, the committee and I decide. I’m the chairperson, but we each get a vote on which charity will receive the donation.”
I leaned back in my chair and pondered the situation. Cooper being on the committee was bad. Cooper being the head of the committee was worse. I would propose Reagan’s dog rescue and he would bang his gavel (I imagined him having one) and explain how I’d violated some rule or another by “one over.” The dog rescue didn’t stand a chance.
The Mayor said a warm goodbye to Cooper and gave a curt nod to me before continuing on to another table.
“I’ll take care of the check if you don’t want to stick around,” Cooper said as he sat back down. “I don’t mind.”
I feigned confusion. “Why wouldn’t I want to stick around?”
He chuckled. “Very funny.”
I did realize how sarcastic that sounded given how the night had gone down thus far. “No, no,” I said, trying my hardest to sound sincere. “This may have started out as an awkward date, but aren’t first dates always a bit that way? In fact, I think we should give a second date a go.”
He studied my face and I smiled as sweetly as possible. I’d always been told I had a nice smile and I was really pouring it on right now.
“You really want another date with me?” he asked slowly.
“Sure do.” I clapped my hands together as if excited to start Date Number Two right now.
He gave me a side-glance.
“But, why?” he asked.
I laughed, hoping it sounded genuine. “Why not, silly?”
Cooper shook his head, but I caught the hint of a smile as he did so. The upward curve of his mouth made me feel greedy. I wanted a bigger smile, a real smile, an unguarded smile. I imagined it would make him almost too handsome to look at though and I didn’t want to confuse things. This second date would be for the puppies.
“Why not?” Cooper said, repeating my question in an incredulous tone. “Because this was as close to a crash and burn date as it gets.”
“No, it’s been absolutely lovely!”
He frowned. “Which part exactly was ‘absolutely lovely’?”
His question threw me off. I stuttered for a moment or two.
“Um. . . The part where we talked about what kind of dog you’re looking for,” I answered lamely. “And the house salad was pretty decent. Those croutons really nailed the crunch factor. The lettuce had a solid green col—”
“Abigail.”
Hearing my name from his mouth in that soft tone stopped me dead in my tracks. If I could’ve convinced myself it wasn’t weird then I would’ve asked him to say my name like that again. I liked the way it sounded more than I should have.
“Okay, fine. I’ll admit the date wasn’t the greatest,” I said, leaning forward. “But you have to cut me some slack after that ticket and give me one more chance. Today was a rough day for me and maybe I took it out on you just a little bit. I want the chance to make it up to you.”
He seemed to be considering my words. I couldn’t blame his hesitation. This really and truly was one hot mess of a first date. Who in their right mind would want a second?
But to my surprise, he finally nodded.
“A second chance,” he said. “For both of us.”
Then he smiled. A full and genuine smile that nearly knocked me out of my chair. People would assume I was drunk, even though I hadn’t ev
en had a sip of the delicious wine sitting in the bottle. He brought a smile to my own mouth before I could stop it.
“I’ll pick you up at your place Saturday?” he asked.
Quickly, I shook my head. “Um, I’ll actually come get you if that’s all right.”
He nodded. “All right then. A do-over.”
I nodded, too. “A do-over date.”
After he paid the bill, we left the restaurant and Cooper went in for a handshake at the same time I went in for a hug. The moment was appropriately awkward and weird. I turned to wave goodbye when his back was already turned and he chose the moment when I turned to, of course, turn to wave goodbye.
I wasn’t sure if any two people could be on more different wavelengths than the two of us. I was flying high in the sky and he had his feet firmly tethered to the ground. If I went right, he went left. He saw black and white, whereas I saw magenta and teal.
As I walked toward my car, I remembered that just an hour ago I had comforted myself with the knowledge that I would never have to see that cop again. And now I was going on a second date with him. What had he called it? A do-over date.
But a second chance for who?
I told myself it was for the dogs, for Reagan, and for the rescue. I told myself it was even good for the community. I told myself every possible reason except for the one that I feared might also be true: that maybe, just maybe I actually wanted to see Cooper again.
Chapter Three
“I swear the directions said to make a left at the fork,” I said pressing random buttons on my GPS as I drove down the country road south of the city. “Or was it a right? You heard left, didn’t you?”
Cooper glanced over at me. “We’re lost.”
“No way,” I said, shaking my head so hard my long dark ponytail flipped to the other shoulder. “That tree looks totally familiar. We must be nearly there.”
Cooper’s eyebrows rose for a second but then he returned to watching Banana, who was happily sitting in my purse on Cooper’s lap. Banana faced the air conditioning vent so that it blew his face. So adorable.
“Banana is too small to stick his head out of the window,” I said, keeping my hands on the wheel. “The air conditioning is the next best thing for him.”
“I can see that.” A hint of a smile crossed Cooper’s face as Banana wagged his tail, clearly enthralled with the blasts of air conditioning. Then Cooper reached his large, strong hand up and scratched behind Banana’s tiny ear, making me nearly drive us into a ditch. Men and puppies . . . there was nothing sweeter than watching the growing affection between the two.
“Do you mind if I open the window?” Cooper asked as I followed the GPS instructions so we could make our way to a vineyard I’d promised for our do-over date.
“Fine with me.” I turned onto a road lined with oak trees. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cooper lift Banana up to the open window ledge. Banana set his paws on the doorframe and barked in excitement as the fresh air blew in along with the scent of hot summer air and dry grass. His head swiveled to check out everything and I feared for a moment his tail might wag right off. He turned and looked at me with a happy stare that said, ‘Can you believe this? Can you even believe this?’
“He likes it,” Cooper said, with a chuckle.
I glanced over, noticing that Cooper’s hair was still combed to perfection somehow, even with the wind blowing in through the window. My gaze dropped to his white short-sleeved button down and his khaki shorts, both of which looked ironed. His shoulders were still rigid, pulled back and at attention. But his expression was different . . . relaxed.
As we drove under the cool shade of the trees and Banana wagged his tail in Cooper’s strong grip, there was a peace to my robot’s face. An easy smile played at his lips and he leaned his head back against the seat rest, gazing out at the passing countryside. We didn’t say much as I drove, far less than we’d said to one another at the restaurant a few nights before, but somehow I felt more communication between us right now.
It was good that he was distracted with the scenic drive, too, because it made getting “lost” on the way to the vineyard seem more believable.
“Abigail, how exactly can a tree look familiar?” Cooper sat up straight and leaned over to check the GPS.
“Trees all have distinct faces, silly,” I said, making another ‘wrong turn’. “They also have different personalities and histories, of course. Some trees have so much drama.”
Cooper rolled his eyes. “And here I thought trees only had scientific classifications.”
“Nope,” I said, grinning over at him. “That one back there was an old man with very large ears that he can’t seem to keep the squirrels out of. He’s laughing all the time because it tickles.”
“A unique perspective,” he said, and then suddenly paused. He fidgeted in his seat as he stared at the window and then he turned to me. “Well, I’ll be. . . That tree did look like it’s laughing while swaying in the wind.”
“See? Now you’re catching on,” I said, a giddy feeling spreading deep in my chest.
He turned to me with a grin. “I’m not sure what you’re doing to me.”
“Just enjoying all the trees have to offer with you.” I gestured out the window as we exchanged a smile. My belly warmed. I drove us around in winding, looping circles for another twenty minutes before pretending to get frustrated. “This GPS thing never seems to work right out here.”
“I have my cell phone,” Cooper said, reaching for his back pocket. “Just tell me the address of the vineyard and I’ll pull up the map.”
Well, that would be hard for me to do since there was no vineyard out here. I placed my hand on his wrist before he could pull out his phone.
“I think it’s just up here on the left,” I said, studying his face to see if he was buying it. A few seconds later I realized my hand was still on his wrist. He’d stopped trying to get his phone, but I hadn’t removed my hand. My gaze darted back to the road as my hand sat there on his, frozen. Finally, I cleared my throat and pulled back my hand. My eyes darted to his hand again and I found myself wondering what it would be like to intertwine my fingers with his.
It took everything in me to resist. A thick tension filled the car that felt palpable.
We drove in silence, the tension only seeming to grow stronger even though I kept my gaze fixed on the road. When we arrived at a familiar intersection, I craned my neck to read the sign I had memorized. “Rescue at the Barn. Come say hi and then stay to play.”
“That doesn’t sound like a vineyard,” Cooper said, leaning forward in his seat to look up the hill toward the big red barn.
“It has to be close,” I said, turning on my turn signal. “Let me just pop in at this barn and ask for directions.”
“I have my phone . . .”
I shook my head. “This will be easier.”
“Than typing something into a phone?” he asked, reaching for his back pocket.
“Does your human interaction programming need an update?” I asked.
“I’m not a robot.”
“Hmm. Some signs seem contradictory to that statement.” I pulled into the small gravel lot beside Reagan’s barn just as she and I had planned over the phone the night before. I’d arrived with Cooper exactly on time.
After pulling this scheme off maybe I’d apply for the CIA. Banana would look adorable in a little spy suit. And maybe I could find one for me on sale. . .
“Wait right here and I’ll go ask for directions, all right?” I asked, hopping out of the car before he could protest.
Cooper struggled to hold onto a squirming Banana who clearly wanted to get out with me. That’s because he knew all his friends were here. Oh, no! Banana was going to bust the whole operation wide open. I shot him a ‘keep it cool’ look and smiled at Cooper as I shut the door.
“Be right back.” I wiggled my fingers at Cooper and then jogged to the barn. I slipped inside, ‘accidentally’ leaving the door open. I fo
und Reagan inside by the dogs’ pen.
“Abigail, you know this idea is crazy, right?” she whispered as I knelt down to scratch some ears and receive some sloppy kisses.
“If by crazy you mean brilliant then yes, this is crazy,” I said, waving my imaginary magic wand in the air. “Release the hounds.”
She rolled her eyes and sighed, but undid the latch and swung open the door to the pen. The dozen or so dogs and a handful of puppies bolted toward the ‘oh, no, did I leave that open’ door exactly as I had planned. Reagan moved to go after them, but I held her back.
“Let him drown in the cuteness for a minute or two,” I said.
She leaned against a post and crossed her arms. “Do you really think this is going to work?”
“We’re about to find out.” I tilted my head and heard a car door open as the dogs barked. I imagined Cooper buried under a pile of fluffy paws and wet kisses and wagging tails.
How could he possibly vote for another charity to receive the committee’s donation after meeting these precious bundles of joy? Saving this rescue would be easy peasy lemon squeezy. I knew I hadn’t been one hundred percent honest, but it was for a good cause.
“Abigail?” Cooper asked, his voice barely audible over the barking dogs.
“Right on cue,” I said, pushing up onto my feet. “See you in thirty seconds.”
Reagan started to protest, but I shushed her with a finger to my lips and ran back through the open door of the barn. I imagined the sight I would see would rank fairly high on the cuteness scale, but I didn’t expect it to be off the cuteness scale. Cooper had Banana wedged under his arm and he was laughing uncontrollably as he was assaulted with doggie love. A few of the more athletic dogs had even managed to scale my car and licked at Cooper’s ears and the back of his neck.
“Abigail!” he called again, catching me watching him with an unstoppable grin on my face.