by Susan Hatler
The next day, I couldn’t help but agree with Henry. The class had definitely been worth my time—and the money I’d paid. But that was my hormones talking. I told myself to be more practical, even as the man on the phone, Gilbert Watson, gave me an earful on how our financial software program was to blame for his computer woes.
“Sir, if you would listen to me—” I tried interjecting, but he talked over me trying to talk over him.
“My laptop worked perfectly before. Now, it’s slow. Sometimes it even shuts down on me. Big business is out to screw the innocent, unsuspecting consumer and I will stand up for my rights. My wife totally agrees with me about this!” he said.
Considering I didn’t know his wife, that really didn’t matter, but as he took a breath, I jumped hoping to chill the man out. “We’re a small business, Mr. Watson, and I assure you—”
No use. The dude had zero interest in a two-way conversation. He wanted to vent. As a customer service rep, I should be fine with this but, after only two hours of sleep, I was not in an emotional place to hear his diatribe on the evils of capitalism. And I hadn’t spent the remaining six hours of my night tossing and turning with thoughts of Chester in my head. No, I’d been obsessing about the guy who’d saved him.
When I’d gone to bed at ten o’clock, I’d snuggled into my pillow and pictured the way Henry Holbrook III (I’d managed to find out his full name, if nothing else) had smiled at me every time I’d made a joke during dog school. Normally I took class, any kind of class, seriously. I’m an A student (fine, A-/B+). But yesterday evening, all I could pay attention to was Henry. And that had been true even after I’d gone to bed. Actually, it had been more true.
Then I’d thought about my date with Craig and reminded myself I hardly knew anything about who Henry really was. More importantly, I didn’t know if we were compatible. I mean, he had a dog and I didn’t. I’d never owned any kind of animal, actually. Hairy things shed a lot and I kept my town home immaculate. Did he own a home? Did he live in the area? If so, did he plan to stay in this area? What did he do for a living? And did he like to travel?
If my mom’s marriage history had taught me anything, it was that relationships won’t last if your life goals and interests aren’t in line. Everyone knows the more conflict, the more arguing. I’d heard my mom and Hubby Number One get into heated discussions repeatedly and, not a shocker, they had zilch in common.
I mean, did I want to end up like my mother? Mentally deleting her child’s father from her love list? Absolutely not. If she’d done her proper homework, she would’ve known he didn’t want kids—and that one should always double-up on birth control.
“Mr. Watson?” I managed to get out when he’d paused for a breath. “Why don’t you bring your laptop to our office and I’ll have our service guys take a look at it. Free of charge. Okay?”
It wasn’t the thousands of dollars he wanted for a new laptop, but it was all I could do. Thankfully, he accepted. After listing his agenda for the week (a doctor appointment Tuesday, taking the car in for an oil change Wednesday, and a waxing appointment on Thursday—didn’t ask the details and really didn’t want to know), we agreed that he would come into the office before lunch on Friday.
I hung up the phone, dropped my head on the desk, and moaned.
“Tough phone call?” Gina stood in the doorway of my work cubicle.
I rolled my head toward her so that my ear was on my forearm. “Tough night, tough call, tough everything.”
“That’s deep.” She came up next to me, leaned her petite frame against the small filing cabinet by my desk, and gestured toward the cube next to me. “So, I guess you’re not in the mood to hear about Rachel and Dillon then?”
That had me sitting up fast. “I left her apartment after ten last night and she still wasn’t home.” I wiggled a finger in the direction of my adjacent cubie. “And obviously she hasn’t come into work yet . . . ”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Gina put a hand on my arm and leaned toward me, conspiratorially. “Dillon was the perfect gentleman. Rach just overslept from staying out late.”
“So . . . ?”
Gina came over and fiddled with one of my many Detailed Dating pens, seemed lost in thought for a few moments, then shook her head as if to snap out of whatever she’d been thinking. “The Oasis had a new band playing last night and they totally rocked. George and I hung out with them until almost midnight when Dillon and Rachel went out for coffee. And according to George, Dillon didn’t get home until after two.”
“Wow.” I hadn’t pegged Mr. Beach Hottie as a big conversationalist. “Good for Rach.”
“Yeah.” Gina set the cherry-red pen back on my desk and gave me a sad look. “Watch it work out between them. They could be married before George even proposes.”
My heart went out to her since it really did seem like George was proposal challenged. “Gina, talk to him. Ask him where it’s going.”
“I have. Maybe it’s time again.” She gave a forced smile. “How are things in the Detailed Dating world?”
“Great,” I said, mentally reminding myself I was supposed to be excited about my face-to-face tonight. “I’m taking Rachel’s pooch to doggy class after work, then I’m meeting one of the guys for dinner.”
Gina raised an eyebrow. “You’re taking Chester to dog class? Why?”
The image of deep gray eyes framed with dark lashes popped into my head, but I ignored that and lifted my foot onto my desk. “See what her mutt did?”
Gina glanced at the marked-up boot and shook her head. “Ouch. Those were cute, too.”
My mouth turned down. “I’m determined to get my money’s worth out of them.”
“That’s big of you to take Chester to obedience school, but I have to say I think it’s a lost cause.” She paused, probably thinking the same thing I was. That George was a lost cause, too. “Well, I’d better get back to my desk. Have fun on your date.”
“Thanks.” I waved to her, then turned to my computer, and pulled up the Detailed Dating website. A few keystrokes, plus the click of my mouse, and a picture of Craig displayed on the screen.
He was a handsome man, for sure. Plus, we both liked skiing, boating, traveling, wanted at least two kids maybe three, had similar political views, and sounded compatible.
So, why was I more into taking Rachel’s pampered pup to All Things Furry than a date I’d been screening for almost six weeks? Intense chemistry shouldn’t trump compatibility if I wanted a lasting relationship, which I did.
I closed out the screen, drafted a message to our service department setting up Gilbert Watson’s appointment on Friday, and hit SEND so hard the key nearly broke.
I would not make the same mistakes my mom had with my dad and pick a guy just because he made me go weak in the knees. No, I wanted a marriage that would last for life, which meant choosing a guy who makes the most sense logically. Tonight, I’d enjoy my first face-to-face—even if it killed me.
****
I rapped my knuckles on Rachel’s apartment door half an hour before the Simply Skilled class started.
Rachel’s front door flew open and she stared at me. “I got your message that you’re coming to pick Chester up. What gives?”
“Nothing.” Since I couldn’t make sense of my irrational feelings, I so didn’t want to talk about them with her. “I just want to borrow your dog. Is that so wrong? Chester? Come here little poochie.”
Rach blocked my path with her arm. “Last week you didn’t even know his name. I’m officially scared.”
“Aha!” Her little maniac was curled up by the heating vent on a bone-shaped doggy bed. His big, brown eyes widened as I approached. “Auntie’s going to take you to obedience class. Yes, I am.”
Rachel knelt down protectively over her dog. “This is about my going on a date with Dillon. Isn’t it? You’re feeling left out because Gina asked me instead and so you’ve snapped.”
“Pfft. You think I want that six-one,
surfing-dude who looks like he works out twelve hours a day? You can have him.” I brushed my hand through the air. “You know me, I’m not competitive.”
“Says the girl who nearly took my hand off at the company picnic four and a half years ago.”
“It was the last piece of cake and I saw it first,” I shot back. “Maybe I just want to teach your mutt some manners. Lest he try to munch on any more of my shoes.”
“But,” Rachel stammered. “You hate dogs.”
Remembering the way Kenzie had nuzzled up to her rescuer’s leg, my mouth dropped open indignantly. “I do not.”
She stared at me and I stared back. She kept her eyes on mine and turned her head suspiciously. I mirrored her look.
Then she gasped. “You met someone who signed up for this dog class. Didn’t you? Fess up.”
My body froze. “No. I, uh . . .”
“You are using my sweet baby as a man magnet!” She gestured toward Chester, who nearly jumped off his bone bed when she shouted.
“For your information, I took your crazy woofer to the emergency vet yesterday because I thought he was dying!”
Her face went white and she threw her hand over her heart. “What?”
Oops. Wrong thing to say. “It wasn’t my fault, all right? He attacked my purse while I was heating up my dinner. He ate almost everything in it, including those new lip-glosses I bought at the mall the other day that the sales lady said went perfectly with my fair complexion.”
“And he nearly died? You were supposed to be watching him.”
“Funny story,” I said, though I seriously doubted she’d laugh. “I took him to All Things Furry and the vet wasn’t there because it was after hours. But there was this guy who was waiting for doggy school who has these amazing eyes I can’t stop thinking about and, well, he found a clump of hair in Chester’s throat. From my hairbrush. So, it turned out he wasn’t dying. Just coughing on a hairball. See? No harm at all. Won’t that be a funny story to tell the grandpups?”
“Chester’s neutered.” She didn’t laugh, but she seemed to relax a little. “Tell me about this guy with the scintillating eyes. I assume he’s the reason for your newfound interest in my sweet baby?”
I’d been caught. It was time to come clean. “His name’s Henry Holbrook III.”
She blinked at me. “And?”
“He is all I can think about.” I stared blankly at the leash in my hand. “It’s absurd, Rach. Absolutely ridiculous. I know nothing about him except that he adopted some stray dog who could have had rabies for all he knew. I mean, who does that?”
Silence.
I looked up at my best friend, begging for some wisdom. She knew me better than anyone. She’d get me back on track. “This is the complete opposite of Detailed Dating. It doesn’t go with my plan. You have to help me. What should I do?”
Rachel leaned forward with a serious look. “I think you should go for it.”
And then she handed me her dog.
CHAPTER THREE
It was illogical to feel so strongly about some random guy I’d only met once, but when I spotted Henry getting off his bike in front of All Things Furry, butterflies fluttered in my tummy. The fluttering stopped abruptly, however, when I noticed he was wearing the same sweats he had on yesterday. My blood ran cold.
Either 1) he hadn’t changed clothes since yesterday (ew); 2) he was wearing different sweats that looked exactly the same (lack of creativity); or 3) he’d taken off the sweats and been naked doing . . . something . . . and had put the sweats back on since he hadn’t had another set of clothes at wherever he’d stayed (shoot me now).
He locked his bike and his mouth curved upward when he saw Chester and me approaching. “Hi, Ellen. Chester.”
“Hi.” I smiled back, so happy that he’d remembered my name that I momentarily forgot to be concerned about the sweats. Then I noticed dark circles under his eyes and my mouth went flat. Tired? Same outfit? He’d obviously stayed at his girlfriend’s place, had fun all night with her, and hadn’t had time to change outfits. My stomach sank, but I tried not to let it show. “Late night?”
May as well ask and take the dagger to my heart now.
He rubbed a hand over his face. “It shows, huh?”
“Hmm.” Frustrated that his response didn’t give me a clue what he’d been doing, I tried again. “Was it at least fun?”
He appeared deep in thought. “It was . . . intense.”
What did that mean? “But in a good way I hope.”
Kenzie peered between his legs and he patted her head. “Time will tell.”
“Huh.” The guy had a knack for vague. I loosened my grip on Chester’s leash so he could bump noses with Kenzie who had her jaw to the ground. She stared at his invasive snout suspiciously.
“Before I forget . . . ” Henry reached into his pocket and pulled out a bright red pen covered with bumpy hearts and handed it to me. “You left this here last night.”
My cheeks heated at the Detailed Dating inscription. “How’d you know it was mine?”
He opened the front door and gestured for us to go through first. “Abby gave it to me after class. Said you left it when you signed your credit card slip.”
Stunned by the knowledge that he’d been with Abby after class, I swallowed my dry throat. Was she the reason he’d had so little sleep? If so, why hadn’t she returned the pen to me herself? “Oh, uh, thanks.”
“No problem.” He followed us inside and took a seat in the chair next to me.
Trying to delete the disturbing mental image of Henry and our beautiful blonde obedience instructor together, I studied the people around the room. The boy from yesterday had his eyes focused on an electronic device as his thumbs worked the buttons furiously. His mom sat next to him, flipping the pages of a magazine. Then I caught the elderly lady with the poodle eyeing Henry and me knowingly.
Yeah. I wish, lady.
“How’s that working out for you, Ellen?”
Confused, I turned toward Henry’s inquisitive voice that Abby had probably gotten to hear intimately. “Huh?”
He gestured toward my purse. “The online dating.”
“Fine.” I cleared my throat, suddenly annoyed that he’d been so friendly to me in class yesterday when he’d really been interested in Abby Wilson. “Very well, actually. I have a date tonight that I’m really looking forward to.”
Okay, did my voice sound as defensive to him?
He opened his mouth to say something when Abby burst out of the back room clapping her hands. “Welcome to the second class of Simply Skilled, everyone!”
His mouth closed and he turned toward the beautiful woman who was wearing baby blue velour sweats that showed off her curves. Quite the opposite of my flower-print button-up blouse and khaki pants, which were flattering and pretty in a more understated way.
I wondered painfully what Henry’d been about to say. Did he care that I had a date with another man tonight? Had that made him as jealous as I felt over Abby Wilson?
I hoped so. But, it was impossible to tell his thoughts from the blank look on his face.
Chester’s tail thumped against my leg as everyone got up to follow Abby to the back room. I forced myself to stand and was surprised to find Henry waiting for me.
“Is your friend Rachel on another date tonight?”
I shrugged. “Not sure what her plans are.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “You’re volunteering on your own tonight, huh? Still going for that Auntie of the Year award?”
I took a step forward but my hand jerked backward when the leash resisted, so I checked behind me. Chester, it turned out, was smacking his mouth like he’d just licked something off the floor that had stuck to his tongue. Gross.
“Something like that.” I shook my head at the canine garbage disposal. Was there anything this mutt wouldn’t put in his mouth?
Henry waited for Chester and me to go through the doorway of the training arena. As he followed us inside, I purpo
sefully picked the spot farthest from our bouncy instructor. To my surprise, Henry and Kenzie chose the spot to the right of us.
“Yesterday, you taught your dog how to sit.” Abby’s voice rang out enthusiastically, her facial expressions animated. “Today, you’re going to teach him or her to stay, and only to come when you ask. Let me demonstrate.”
She asked for a volunteer and a young guy with a bulldog offered right away. Probably had a crush on her, too. Admittedly, Abby was gorgeous—if you were into physical perfection, that is.
But was she organized? Because a man would be hard-pressed to find a woman more organized than me. I mean, my checking account is balanced to the penny, my glass shower door never has a streak, and my unmatched sock basket is practically non-existent (no, I won’t toss the loner socks because their mates will surely turn up the day after I do).
Any chance Henry considers Type-A to be the new sexy? Could be possible . . .
As Abby waxed poetic about well-mannered pooches, I leaned toward Henry, determined to get to the bottom of his mysterious nocturnal activities. “Abby looks exceptionally pretty today. Don’t you think?”
He looked uncomfortable at the question. “I guess.”
Okay, that confirmed nothing about his night. Or, maybe it did. If they’d hooked up, he would have agreed a bit more enthusiastically. Right? The curiosity was killing me. “She seems very nice, too.”
My stomach tightened as I braced for his answer because I only needed to know if he was into her, not any of the details.
“She does.” He continued to watch Abby as she made the bulldog stay with a flat hand signal. “Although, this is my first dog obedience class so I don’t really have another instructor to compare her to.”
The knot in my belly loosened. It was unlikely he’d talk that distantly about her if they’d been up all night doing, well, everything I’d fantasized doing with Henry if I had him all to myself.
Slightly mollified, I stole another glance at the circles under Henry’s eyes. They hadn’t been there yesterday. Believe me, I’d studied every detail of his beautiful face and had gone over it a thousand times in my mind. The stubble hadn’t been there either. What had he been doing that he couldn’t shave or change his clothes? And that, in his own words, was intense?