Page 37 of Mismatched

“Yes, thanks for your helpful explanation, Mr. Hill,” our employee says, sweeping the dog off the table and placing him in a kennel. With a flip of her purple ponytail, she starts stomping around, putting away her combs and brushes. Henry follows her closely with his eyes, but doesn’t say anything.

Weird.

I head for the desk, glancing around the rest of the shop. Daniela and Alicia must have already gone home. There are only two other dogs awaiting pickup in the kennels against the wall.

”I just came in to run reports on the new system,” I say. Which isn’t really true. Scarlet texted me earlier that the tub drains were running slow. But I’m not in a hurry to bring that to Henry’s attention.

“Right. Well.” He shifts from one foot to the other. “I need to get going. Ah...” He glances back at Scarlet, hesitating a beat too long. “Good to see you, Ms. Lawson.”

She meets his gaze, and for just a second it looks like she’s going to say something. But then she presses her mouth into a line and turns away, and he’s gone.

I bite my lip, not sure what to say. “Is um... is everything okay?”

Scarlet and I aren’t close. She’s a fantastic groomer, but an incredibly flaky employee, and kind of a mess personally, from what I know. Henry initially suggested we give her a raise and make her a manager to see if more responsibility would ground her, but I half expect her to just ghost us one day.

“Mmph,” is all she says, slamming cage doors and snatching up a broom to start sweeping up dog hair.

The owner of a little schnauzer comes in at that moment, and I fumble through Henry’s irritating point of sale system, but manage to check them out. Once the client is gone, I glance back at Scarlet and try a new subject. “So, did you and Trent do anything fun over the weekend?”

“No,” she hisses. “Why does everyone keep asking?”

Yikes. I set down the tablet and really look at her as she takes off her grooming apron and throws it into the laundry, her cropped T-shirt revealing a glittery belly button ring.

“Who else is asking?”

She freezes, eyes widening for a moment before she exhales. “Never mind,” she mutters, pulling the elastic out of her ponytail and shaking out her dyed curls.

I furrow my brow, still unsure of what I saw when I got here. “Scarlet, if there’s anything you?—”

“If you’re going to be here, do you mind sending the rest of my dogs home? I just remembered I need to... be somewhere.”

Before I have the chance to answer, she gathers up her things and sweeps out the door. For a fleeting second after she’s gone, I consider calling Henry to ask what happened. If there’s an issue between them, I should help sort it out.

Except... something tells me it might be better for me to mind my own business, at least for now. So I let it go and walk back to check on the drains in the bathing room.

I’m elbow deep in stagnant water when my text alert goes off in my pocket.

Anton

Just leaving the gym. Do you want to eat out tonight? Or stay in?

Plumbing issues at Ooh La Pooch. Again. Not sure what time I’ll get home.

Can you feed Heartthrob?

He doesn’t answer immediately, so I run the trash to the dumpster and check out the bichon and a border collie when their owners show up. Then I really get to work on the tub drains, trying to figure out the source of the backup once it’s clear they’re indeed running slow.

I am standing in one of our two raised steel bathtubs, trying to get better leverage on the plunger over the drain because nothing else so far has worked, when Heartthrob runs in wagging his tail. The dog takes one look at me standing in the bathtub, cocks his head, and barks in total confusion.

“I could ask you the same thing,” I say to him.

Anton comes in behind him with a plastic bag. “We brought you dinner.”

My brows shoot up. “Oh, you’re amazing. Thank you.” I glance at the clock on the wall in the bathing room and grimace. It’s later than I thought. I start to climb out, and Anton sets the bag aside to help me down.

“We thought you might need some sustenance. Your text sounded stressed,” he says, guiding me to the floor with his hands at my waist.

“Really? You got all of that from two texts?”

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