by Lila Monroe
“I can’t believe that ugly thing actually costs ten grand.” Will shakes his head in disbelief.
“Seriously, I need to do something. Colin and Viv are going to lose their shit if we don’t figure out a way to replace it. I don’t want Eve getting blamed,” I add, feeling guilty. Sure, playing hot potato with the damn thing was her fault, but even I’m not so much of an asshole to think that we would still be in this situation if I had listened to her.
Instead of making a sport out of getting under her skin. Even if she does get weirdly sexy when she’s yelling at me.
Will smirks, like he’s reading my mind. “You like this girl?”
“That has nothing to do with it,” I insist. “We broke the chicken and we need to replace it.”
Will’s manscaped eyebrows lift. “That’s not a no.”
I scowl at him. Whether or not I find Eve attractive is beside the point. “Are you going to help me, or not?”
“Fine.” He rolls his eyes. “You need ten large. What can you do in three weeks to get it?”
“If I knew that, asshole, I wouldn’t be asking you!”
“Hmmm . . .” He looks up at the sky, thinking. “Escorting?”
“I don’t think Eve would go for that.”
Will laughs. “I was talking about you.” He looks me up and down. “It would take a bit of hustle and a better haircut, but you could probably do it in the three weeks.”
“Fuck off,” I laugh. “Wait. What’s wrong with my haircut?”
He waves me off with a grin. “I’m so not playing queer eye with you right now.”
We throw around a few more ideas, but nothing that sticks, when the dogs start whining. I look under the table to see they’ve somehow completely tangled their leather leashes up in the table legs.
Will laughs. “Who knew pugs were so into S&M?”
“Take this one,” I say, holding onto Leia as I untangle the leashes. Once I do, Will picks Hans up and puts him in his lap.
“Aren’t you the cutest? Yes you are,” he coos, and I realize this will be perfect for his Instagram feed.
I grab his phone and start taking pics.
“What are you doing?”
“Making you social media gold.”
We’re still shooting when Eddie joins us. “For a guy with a real job, you sure have a lot of time to come hang out with us,” I comment, uploading the perfect pup shot.
Eddie smiles. “Mindy told Lulu who told Alex that the reason we broke up is that I’m stupid and immature.”
“And you’re happy about this why?” Will asks.
Eddie rolls his eyes, like it’s obvious. “Because, if she didn’t care about me anymore, she wouldn’t have been talking about me.”
“Dude,” Will says, shaking his head. “You have serious problems.”
I’m about to agree but don’t get the chance.
“OHMIGOD!”
A shriek goes up from two college girls who just walked in. They’re staring at us. No, staring at the dogs.
“Those puppies are THE CUTEST!”
“Can we hold them?” the other girl begs
“Sure,” Eddie answers immediately, scooping Hans off Will’s lap. “This is Hans and that is Leia.”
Good thing he can read their collars, I snort. But he’s already flirting for all he’s worth. Maybe if Eddie wasn’t such a player, he’d still be with Mindy.
“They are totes adorbs!” one of the girls says, and then she looks up at Eddie with googly eyes. “You are obviously a great dog-daddy!”
Eddie preens. Seriously, preens. “I am. These little guys are my life, you know?”
“Will you take our picture with them?” one of the women asks.
“As long as I’m in it, too,” Eddies says, jokingly adding, “Though I should charge you for it!”
The girls giggle and take the selfie, then reluctantly move on. Meanwhile, Will checks his phone again. “You were right,” he says.
“I usually am. About what this time?” I ask.
“The dog pic. I have like, four hundred likes already. People are crazy about dogs.”
“Girls are crazy about them,” Eddie corrects. “I should get myself one of those, it’s the ultimate pick-up tool. Feel like lending these guys for the rest of the day?”
“To use as your props for hitting on unsuspecting women? I don’t think so.” I snort.
“Aww, come on,” Eddie argues. “They love the attention. I’ll buy you lunch.”
And that’s when it hits me. A potentially amazing, ass-saving idea, that might just keep Eve and I out of trouble—and be a great freelance project, too.
I text Eve, asking her if we can meet. She tells me she’s at work.
I’ll come to you.
No. Busy!
Too busy for a $10,000 idea?
She pauses, then sends me an address. Don’t laugh, she adds.
Now this I’ve got to see.
WHEN I GET to the location, I find it’s a grooming salon. It makes sense that her side-hustle has something to do with dogs. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as dog-crazy as her.
I look through the front window and see her standing at a stainless steel grooming table on which stands a giant black poodle-looking dog with its hair in rollers. Rollers—like 1970s housewife rollers. Eve’s holding what I presume is some sort of doggie hair dryer, aimed at the dog that’s looking like, well, a seventies housewife. Without the cigarette and glass of whiskey, of course.
She’s wearing an ugly smock that matches the salon’s teal-and-pink décor, and her hair is wet and slicked back with—sweat? Or wet from bathing the dog? Impossible to tell. But she actually looks kind of hot, with the smock falling open at her chest to reveal—
Ahem.
I drag my eyes back up from her assets and tug on Hans and Leia’s leashes. We head inside the salon, the bells on the door announcing our entrance.
Eve looks up with a smile, which fades a little when she realizes it’s me. “Oh. You.”
“Roll out the red carpet, why don’t you?” I tease.
She rolls her eyes. “As you can see,” she says loudly over the hum of the dryer as she turns her attention back to the dog, “I’m busy here. Can you make it quick?”
“I don’t know . . .” I can’t resist needling her a little, she so clearly doesn’t want to spend time with me. “It looks like you’ve got plenty of time. You missed a spot.”
Eve narrows her eyes. “Look, just tell me this big idea so I can get on with earning a living. Which, by the way, I’m going to need to pay for a lawyer once Viv finds out we broke her cock.”
I snort.
“You know what I mean!”
I do. And I think I have a solution. “I’ve spent the morning doing some anecdotal market research,” I say, trying to sound official. “And I have a business idea. We can rent out your shelter dogs and make a fortune.”
She turns off the hair dryer and looks at me like I’m crazy. “What?”
“It makes total sense,” I explain, enthusiastic. Because ever since I had the first spark of inspiration, it’s been growing in my mind. “Think about it: there are a lot of people who don’t want the long-term commitment of a dog, but maybe want to rent one for a day. For photo shoots—Instagram, maybe book covers, that sort of thing.”
She looks unconvinced.
“I also have it on good authority that dogs are chick magnets,” I add, “so we could market to single people looking to hook up at the dog park.”
She glances down at Hans and Leia, then back up at me. “You have it on good authority, do you?” A grin is playing on her lips. Her really nice lips.
Forcing myself to look back up at her eyes, I shrug. “Like I said, I’ve been doing my research. This is what I’m good at,” I add. “Creating buzz, getting attention. It wouldn’t just be a money-maker for us, it could really help the shelter,” I add, playing my trump card. “I bet tons of customers would fall in love and decide to ado
pt the dogs for real. Just think of how great it could be if people could try before they buy.”
Eve pauses. I can see she’s wavering, but just before I can close the deal, we’re interrupted by a couple of the other customers, moving closer to pet Leia and Hans.
“Those pugs are adorable!”
“Yes, they are.” I shoot Eve a triumphant look.
One of the girls takes out her cellphone and starts snapping pics, but I stop her with an apologetic smile.
“I’m sorry. No photos. They’re actually models and it’s against their contracts to work for free, so I’d have to charge you.”
I hear Eve snort with laughter, but I keep a straight face, and sure enough, one of the girls asks, “How much?” She starts digging in her bag while the other gets out her phone and hands it to me.
I flash a victorious smile at Eve.
“Since they haven’t had their baths yet, let’s just say ten bucks,” I decide.
The girl shrugs. “Sure. You’re worth it, aren’t you pumpkin?” She hands me the bill, then scoops up one of the pugs. “Ahh! I love him!!”
Her friend snaps pics for what seems like an hour, until I have to cut them off. “Sorry, these stars need their baths!”
“No probs, can we tag them? Do they have a profile?”
Do the dogs have an Instagram profile? I try not to laugh. “No, not yet. They’re very private.”
“Oh, smart!” They say their goodbyes and leave. Once the door shuts behind them I turn to Eve.
“See?” I crow. “They totally paid!”
“Ten bucks.” She snatches the bill from me. “ Only nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety to go.”
“Easy money,” I say confidently, because now that we have a plan, I know we’re going to crush this. “You’ve got the dogs, I’ve got the charm . . . together, we’re going to run this town.”
“Oh boy,” Eve sighs, shaking her head. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”
9
EVE
AFTER ANOTHER RESTLESS night filled with anxiety dreams—mostly about chickens—I haul myself out of bed and amble downstairs with the dogs to let them out.
I freeze in the doorway to the kitchen as Hans and Leia rush past me to greet Noah. He’s sitting at the kitchen island, laptop in front of him, papers spread all around. He’s wearing a T-shirt and shorts, which should technically be a good thing compared to his usual state of undress, and yet . . .
He looks up and smiles. “Good morning.”
Damn that smile.
“Hey.” I drop into the stool across from him. “What’s all this?”
He gives me a sheepish grin. “I couldn’t sleep, so I figured may as well get started on our big rent-a-dog project. I’ve already made Instagram and Twitter accounts and put up a preliminary website.” He angles his laptop toward me.
“Wow,” I say, scrolling through the site. “I’m impressed.”
“I do have some uses,” he says. “I’m not just a pretty face, you know.”
I snort. “Get over yourself.” But the truth is, it is a pretty face. Especially with that two-day stubble looking all rakish and manly . . .
Focus, Eve, you have a ten-thousand-dollar problem that is a higher priority than a pretty face.
I clear my throat and look back at the laptop. “We’re going to have to call it something other than rent-a-dog, you know.”
“I know,” he grins.
“And are we renting out Hans and Leia? I don’t know about that . . .”
“Placeholders,” he says. “I can come by the shelter today to get pictures of the actual dogs.”
He’s thought of everything. Maybe this isn’t such a long shot, although I’m still not convinced we wouldn’t be better off biting the bullet—or rather, shattered chicken—and throwing ourselves on Viv and Colin’s mercy.
“You really think this is going to work?” I ask.
“Only one way to find out,” Noah replies, annoyingly peppy.
“Well, you keep doing . . . whatever this is. I need to get ready and go to work.”
“I’ll keep working on this,” he says. “But sooner or later, I’m going to need a coffee, so I’ll have to go out. After that, I’ll come see you at the shelter.”
I look to the fancy coffee machine on the counter. “Have you tried it?”
He follows my gaze and then shakes his head, looking rueful. “I can rebuild a car engine from the ground up, but that thing scares the shit out of me.”
I laugh. “It can’t be that bad. My friend Zoey figured it out.”
“Fine,” he says, waving toward the machine in question. “Have at it. I’ll take a double espresso.”
I sidle up to the counter. “It can’t be that complicated. People use these every day.” I start fiddling with the buttons.
“Do you know,” Noah says casually, “that thing cost more than double my rent?”
I pull my hands back as though the machine’s on fire. “What?”
He nods. “Not even kidding.”
I gulp. I’ve had my fill of breaking things I can’t afford in this house. “You know what?” I say, backing away from the machine that is suddenly even more intimidating. “I’ll just get a coffee at the place around the corner.”
“Good plan,” Noah says. “Me too.”
I GET to the shelter and do my regular walkabout, checking in with the dogs. Fred is still here, but I have sudden hope for him—if Noah can put him on the website and get him rented out for some photo shoots, I’m sure someone will fall in love and take him home forever. I start to look at the other dogs in a new light, already mentally lining up the ones that will be most popular: Farley, a huge Newfoundland cross, Sassy, a tiny Pomeranian with a giant attitude, and a terrier mix named Bouncer, who comes by his name honestly.
I’m about to start my cleaning, when I hear Diane come in. I amble to her office and lean on the doorframe just as she’s sitting down.
“Hey.” She looks up and smiles. “How’s the house-sitting going?”
I manage to keep the smile on my face. “Oh! It’s great. What a stunning home.”
“Except for some of that art, right?” She grins. “Like that chicken on the mantle? Some rich people have weird taste.”
Oh God, she knows!
“Oh yeah,” I gulp, hoping she can’t tell I’m faking. “Bak-bak—crazy rich people!” I say, flapping my arms. Yep, that’s me. Guilty-ass Eve doing the chicken dance in her boss’s office.
Thankfully, Diane laughs. Maybe she doesn’t know.
“Anyway,” I say, coming into her office and dropping into the seat across the desk from her. “I was thinking . . . what if we hired out some of the dogs for special occasions? You know, like photo shoots, commercials, that sort of thing.” Even as I’m saying it, I’m getting more and more excited, because it really is the best idea. Of course, we’d share the profits with the shelter. Especially after we hit that all-important ten K threshold. Everyone wins!
But Diane shakes her head. “No, I’m sorry, that wouldn’t work.”
My heart sinks. I open my mouth to start my version of the pitch Noah gave me, but I don’t even get one word out before Diane holds up her palm. “It’s not that I don’t like the idea,” she adds, “but I’m afraid it would mess with our non-profit status. We’ve been approached before, but it’s just not worth the price.”
“Oh,” I say, deflating. “Well, that sucks.”
She gives a rueful smile. “I love the idea of getting the word out, but we can’t afford to lose that status—we’d lose all our funding and tax credits. Not negotiable.”
“Of course,” I say and then get up. “I’d better get to the kennels.”
I stop in the hallway to text Noah.
Shelter plan not going to work. Brainstorm later?
He doesn’t hit me back right away, so I start down the hallway to the get my supplies. As I do, I hear a familiar voice out in the lobby. A familiar male voice that m
akes me smile. I look down at my outfit, cursing the fact that it’s just jeans and my standard-issue shelter golf shirt.
Still, that doesn’t mean I can’t make an effort. I untie and re-tie my ponytail and swipe a finger under each eye before I casually walk into the lobby, smile firmly in place.
I was right: there’s Hemsworth. He’s the hot guy who came in a while back to adopt an adorable lab for his nephew. His name isn’t actually Hemsworth, but he’s smoldery and sexy and the resemblance to the actors is enough that he could be a fourth brother, without the panty-melting Aussie accent, obviously.
He’s talking with Karen, today’s front desk volunteer. She’s in her seventies, but I know her eyes are working just fine when she turns them to me and gives me a look that says, Do you see this fine piece of manflesh standing right here?
And yes, I do.
I give her an eyebrow waggle of acknowledgement as I approach.
“Oh, hey.” I smile up at him. “I hope everything’s going well with Lucky and your nephew!”
Hemsworth beams a smile at me. “Really well, thanks. They’re both settling in great. It’s done a world of good for the kid—more than I ever imagined.”
“The magic of pets,” I say. “So. What brings you here today?”
He pushes a hand through his hair, the move making his biceps bulge. “I was thinking maybe I could use a companion.”
Oh, I’ll be your companion, I think. “Cool!” is what I say out loud. “I can show you around. Introduce you to some great dogs.”
“Great.” He falls into step beside me on our way back to the kennels.
“Though . . . you know,” I smile up at him through my lashes. “You’re going to have to tell me all about your lifestyle so I can find the perfect match for you.”
He grins back. “All about me, huh?”
“Oh yes,” I say earnestly. “Like, if you’re single or will there be visitors to your home . . .” I lift my eyebrows.