by Kara Hart
“1967 Chevy Nova Station Wagon,” I say. “My parents had one when I was growing up. I’d kill to ride in one again.”
Wrong choice of words, but I can’t take it back.
Stunned, she glances at the car. To my horror, I watch her upper lip roll up with distaste. “Uh, yeah. It was on sale,” she mutters and starts to dig into her purse. “Look, if you need me to pay you for the gas, I’ve got the cash.”
This isn’t going the way I planned.
Returning the wallet to my back pocket, I slide the edge of my finger across a few bills. If she knew how much cash I had on hand at all times, she’d probably freak. Then again, things haven’t been going my way. If she knew who I was, she might react differently.
“I’m good on the money,” I say.
She narrows her eyes, appearing more confused than even before. I’ve never been so dumbfounded by someone’s looks like this, but I’m struggling to say something, anything that sounds coherent.
Her lips purse, tongue making a whistling noise that seems to mimic the descent of my masculinity. “So… I have somewhere to be.”
I suck in a quick breath and go for the kill. “Look, I’m just going to come out and say it. I’d like to ask you out if that isn’t too weird.”
Her eyes light up, a good sign. For a moment, it seems like she’s going to say yes. But then I see that tiny curl form at the edge of her lips. It’s the kind of look that inspires self-doubt and shame in a man.
“Here?” she exclaims, giggling. “You are not doing this here. Are you asking me for my number?”
I was, but forget it. Keep the change.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t laugh,” she says. “But I’ve made an oath to myself. No men for a while.”
Oh. She’s one of those girls. If I took her on date, she’d probably eat me alive.
What if I want that to happen?
Taking a few steps back, it feels like there’s a world of distance between us. Suddenly, I realize how dumb I look. I shouldn’t sacrifice my pride for any woman. I’ve got a daughter to make happy.
Bowing my head, I feel the shame drip into my subconscious, little by little. Once it sets in, I don’t feel as bad about this mis-spark.
I chuckle. “You know, you’re right. This was weird. My apologies.”
“Wait,” she says.
I freeze, wondering what an obscenity might sound rolling off her perfect tongue. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not face rejection twice in one night.”
Brushing her bangs from her eyes, she smirks. I wish she didn’t look so cute when she did it, but of course, she looks perfect. “I don’t give random strangers my number,” she says, nodding at the bag of candy in my hands. “At least until that candy goes out of style.”
I start to wave. “I get it. Have a good ni—”
“But...”
My heart’s rhythmic beating picks up.
She continues. “I believe in fate.”
I fill in the blanks with the many possibilities:
And I’m in love with you.
And I’m in love with your best friend.
And I’m here to kill you.
Hopefully, it’s the first one.
“If we happen to see each other again, you can ask me for my number,” she says. “Don’t worry. Next time, I won’t laugh.”
Oof. This hurts, but I’ve been through worse. The good thing is we’re far outside of the city for anyone to recognize me. Judging by her current outfit, she’s never read any of my magazines either. Any embarrassment I thought I might face now looks negligible.
I’m not one to stick around for rejection. Sensing that I’ve missed this opportunity in a pretty big way, I let out another laugh and nod. “All right. It’s a deal,” I say, putting out my hand.
She takes it, shaking. Standing there, awkward, as I break down like an overloaded machine.
I clutch her hand until she pulls away. Snapping out of my dumb trance, I clear my throat and purse my lips before heading toward my car. “Well, goodnight.”
“Goodnight, stranger.”
When I’m back in my Mercedes, I twist the keys and feel the smooth turbines kick in. I’ve never thought of myself as strange, but that’s exactly what I am. A man with all the money in the world, a wonderful daughter, and houses in three different continents should feel more alive than the other man. But I don’t. I’m more alone than I’ve ever been.
That’s the problem.
As I watch her Chevy fart out a large plume of dark smoke before she disappears onto the highway, I feel my heart sink a few inches. Seattle isn’t that far away, but it’s practically another world. With hundreds of thousands of residents, I seriously doubt I’ll run into her again. It’s probably a good thing, but my head can’t square with it.
Turning the keys, we sit in silence. I take a minute to decompress. Samantha eyes me, giggling. “Daddy’s in love.”
I can’t stop thinking about that woman.
“Am not.”
My cheeks turn hot. Am I blushing?
Samantha lobs a candy heart against my chest. It bounces, and I catch it in my hand. “Puppy Love.”
I chuckle. Of course. That must be the universe’s way of telling me to get a move on for my daughter’s sake.
After I get this dog for Samantha, I’m going to think about that woman some more. A lot more. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to get her out of my head.
I’ll take her offer.
I’ll find her.
One thing is for certain. The meeting I had later is definitely going to be rescheduled.
Ali
Business suit. Check.
German sports car. Check.
Metal credit card. Check.
Tall. Handsome. Deep voice. He sure had it all, the total package.
Was this my prince charming?
No - I made a strong vow of celibacy. I’m not breaking it.
Once I’m on the highway, I’m driving too fast to think about anything other than the Cavalier King Charles, my Ragamuffin. I’m trying to shrug off that awkward interaction. Besides, a guy like that is out of my league. Everything added up to suggest he has enough money to feel persuasive enough to ask a girl out after paying for her gas. Although that is somewhat of a turn-on for someone as poor and in need of a full-time position as myself, it felt a little too forward.
Okay, I shouldn’t have laughed in his face. That was a little rude. The proposal took me by surprise, but I’m not one to break promises I made to myself. Our deal still remains.
If we come into contact at a later date, I’ll give him my number. If not, oh well.
I pass under a green sign. 405 Tacoma: Five miles. I’m so close, I can already feel the puppy’s fluff.
I turn on my blinker, but I see two glowing lights speeding toward me. Turning into the lane, I brace the wheel as a car jerks into the other lane. It’s speeding up, engine roaring. I watch its bright lights grow in intensity as it comes up to my side.
The windows have a dark tint, but I can make out two figures. One looks petite, womanly. The other looks like a man. The shadows adjust their heads to look at me. The woman waves.
It’s a Mercedes. Not just any Mercedes either. The license plate reads: “MRMNYBG.”
What is this? Some kind of joke? It’s the same guy from the gas station, and it looks like he wants to race me.
A memory juts through my mind, one that’s a little unsettling to recall. I hear the animal breeder’s voice come through my phone. “Businessman offered me double for her.”
Is this the same businessman he was talking about?
“Oh, you bastard.” I narrow my eyes and focus on the road. “You want a race? Fine. I’ll give you a race.”
I put the pedal to the metal, heels digging down deep. The tarmac rushes past us, each mile marker pushing us further into the distance. I’m steadily watching the speedometer rise to eighty-five. It hits ninety, and I start sweating. He’s got a german eng
ine in that thing. I don’t know what I’m thinking, racing him in a Chevrolet.
With no traffic ahead, I’m feeling confident. I get the car to ninety-five, but it’s an old beast. This is the fastest speed I might be able to hit. To make matters worse, the engine is making a popping noise that sounds all too much like gunshots. That can’t be good...
A short plume of smoke rises from the hood, and the smell of burning comes inside from the vents. “Oh, crap.”
Without a moment to spare, the Mercedes shoots in front of me, the sound of its engine carrying him even faster toward the finish line. I watch as he rounds the corner with a slight skid.
My heart falters. All my excitement hangs in the past. I don’t doubt he’ll get the sale. Why not? He’s the best man.
He won.
Face hot with embarrassment and rage, I force my foot off the gas and allow it to roll pathetically toward the freeway exit. The engine gets me to the breeder’s house before sputtering out completely.
Just as I begin to step out of the loyal piece of junk, I see the man’s black suit enter the building. The door swings behind him, and every negative emotion drives through me. This is an all out war. I’m getting that dog, dammit!
After taking off my heels, I run and grab the door before it shuts. I bang it open with my elbows, and suddenly I’m flying inside to the sight of the man from the black Mercedes.
What. The. Hell.
“I’m here,” I yell as my face hits the floorboards. “Ouch.”
To my mortification, two men are staring at me. The breeder and the bastard. They’re not just staring. They’re exchanging money.
Cheeks glued to the floor, I sigh. “I’m here.”
The breeder raises a brow and scratches his cheeks. They jiggle like strawberry Jello under the red neon dog sign fixed on the window. A clock behind him ticks loudly. It’s been about forty-five minutes since my inquiring phone call. I know what he’s about to say.
“You’re a little late.”
Avoiding eye contact with the big-boss-bastard, I stand and brush myself off. Looking foolish is kind of my forte, something I’m used to, but today is for conquering my dreams. I bite the inside of my cheek and focus on the confidence I had earlier in the day.
I slam the money onto the table and balance my weight, huffing a few breaths. “I’ve got a thousand dollars.”
I follow the breeder’s eyes to the businessman’s smirk. It takes all of me not to scream.
“Looks like we put down the same amount,” the man says.
His grin is devilishly handsome, which is why I feel a deep need to best him. I reach into my purse and pull out another bill. “Eleven hundred.”
The businessman laughs softly. “Make it an even twelve.”
Heart racing, I search for more money. There’s another hundred in there, bringing the total to his. I grab my coin purse and drop a few silver dollars. “Um. Just one-second.”
He pulls out his metal showoff credit card, tapping it twice against the cash register for good measure. “Whatever she offers, I’ll pay double.”
I’m astounded. Never in my life have I been treated in such an embarrassing manner. “Oh, you are just rotten,” I mutter, slightly hoping he didn’t hear it through my long sigh.
He feigns surprise. “I’m just doing someone a favor. Don’t get mad at me. You’re the one who owes me something.”
“Owes you what?”
He shrugs. “I thought we had a deal. If we run into each other again, you’d give me your number.”
No fucking way. “On another day,” I growl. “This doesn’t count.”
His teeth are whiter than last winter’s snow. “Sure. Rewrite the rules when it suits you,” he says.
My face tightens. I’ve lost this fight, but I’m not going to leave without getting a word in. “Is this a game to you?”
“Excuse me?”
“A guy like you must’ve known where I was headed,” I say.
He narrows his eyes. “Are you accusing me of stalking you?”
I purse my lips and stare into his eyes. His warm and dreamy, bedroom eyes. “Maybe I am.”
Taking a breath, I linger in the scent of his cologne. It smells expensive. Everything about him reeks of money.
“This is ludicrous,” he responds.
And he’s right. It’s really stupid. The more I accuse him of following me, the more I want it to happen. But I made an oath to myself because I know how men like him are. And if he takes that dog, I’ll never forgive him.
“It must be easy knowing you can buy your way out of any bad situation,” I say.
That’s when I hear a noise. It’s a small thump that brings my eyes to what’s been behind him the whole time, holding onto the back of his pants. It’s a small child. “Dad? Are we still getting Ragamuffin?”
My heart...
This is a cruel joke. I can’t take a dog away from a little girl.
The breeder chuckles to himself, shaking his head. “I’ll go grab her while you two hash this out. If any of you draw blood, there’s a mop in the back.”
The cold-hearted-daddy-bastard tightens his tie. His smirk is practically tattooed on his mouth. “What if we end up kissing?”
“The nerve on you,” I gasp.
“Daddy,” his daughter moans, “be nice.”
He bends and kisses his daughter’s head. “Sweetie, this is grown up stuff. We’re just playing around.”
“Urg.”
The bossy jerk steps toward me, placing his hands out to show me he’s disarming himself. My eyes focus on his fingers. Ringless.
He lowers his voice and angles his eye at his daughter. “Look, if the dog was for me, I’d hand it over to you. But I can’t let her down again. She’s had a really hard year.”
Hm. So he let her down. Maybe I was right. He is a bastard.
Obviously I’m not going to steal the girl’s dog. After seeing her dad’s ringless finger, I feel like I need to back off a little bit. Their story could be more tragic than I can handle.
I clear my throat. “It’s for her?”
The little girl twists under his legs and squints, giggling. “Everything is for her,” he says.
It’s the kind of thing a man says when he’s trying to earn brownie points. However, it’s apparent that the girl loves him, and he promised her a dog. It would kill her to find out she’s not getting the cutest puppy alive.
Ready to admit defeat, I bend over and whisper to the girl. “Don’t worry, kid. You’re going to get the dog. I was just giving your dad a hard time.”
The little girl stares back at me, wide-eyed and silent for a second, before blurting out, “It’s okay, I give him a hard time, too.”
We both share a laugh, and I give her a fist bump for good measure. No, I didn’t end up with the dog of my dreams, but one girl gets to be happy. I’m grateful it’s her.
As for her father, my annoyance is still at a nine. My attraction is at about a four. It’s time for me to head out.
The sounds of barking filter through the back as the backdoor opens. The breeder is holding a King Charles in one hand, but his other is getting dragged forward by a very big, slobbery, and stinky St. Bernard. “I brought out another fan favorite, in case one of you is interested.”
Sensing the dog barreling toward me, I try to brace myself for an incoming wet kiss. Its feet slam against the tile like horse hooves. When I turn, the dog is already in the air. Its paws connect against my breasts, knocking me onto my ass.
The breeder’s eyes shoot open. “Rowdy, bad boy!”
I get a lot more than a kiss. Slobbering all over my face, the dog breathes rapidly, sniffing and humping the air above my head. This is me grabbing life by its balls. Unfortunately, it’s literal rather than the figurative example I was hoping for. My face feels like it’s on fire, and my biceps throb as I try to push the old dog off me. It’s heavier than I anticipated, and I think I’m losing.
After what feels like
minutes, the breeder gets a hold on his leash and yanks him back. “Rowdy, what do you think you’re doing? She’s a human being, not someone you can breed.”
Oh. God…
Mr. Father-of-the-Century stands over the mess, peering down as the dog bucks back, barking. “See? It’s not so bad. He likes you already.”
The breeder chuckles. “Sorry ‘bout that. He’s not fixed.”
Whatever chance I had of turning this around has gone out the window. Before I was molested by that ogre of a dog, I was going to wish them well and leave. Now, I’m forced to do a walk of shame to the door.
The breeder is still staring at me. “Well, do you want him?”
I’m shaking. My money is on the table.
“I… I...” I don’t know what to say.
“He’s old, but he’s loyal,” the breeder says. “I’ll give him to you for two hundred.”
Glancing at the exit, so I can run for the hills, I nod my head. “S-S-Sure...”
I avoid eye contact with Mr. Moneybags as the breeder hands me the leash and a set of papers. “All right,” he says. “Rowdy is an old dog. Stubborn, too. Here’s what you have to do every morning...”
I’m not listening. I’m staring at Rowdy’s dripping-wet-lips, horrified by the outcome of this trip.
I’m not going home empty-handed. I’m going home full-handed. I have a new dog. His name is Rowdy. He may not be young or the cutest thing in the world, but he’s my dog.
Cocking my chin with pride, I sign some forms and head for the exit. Mr. Shark Tank is staring at me. I can feel it. When my hands hit the push bar, I open the door. However, I don’t step out just yet.
“Wait,” he says. “How can I find a way to run into you again?”
I turn, calmly breathing to take the red out of my face. “I live in Seattle, over in the Ballard District,” I say.
He chuckles and scratches the back of his head. “Me too.”