Page 4 of Unmatched

I’m going to fix my bike, go for a nice long ride, and try to forget about this morning. Lydia will figure out a solution and come home eventually. I pick up my keys and head for the door. But then I imagine climbing into bed tonight with her exhausted and disinterested. Again. I glance at the keys in my hand and hesitate. Maybe if I try to solve her problem, she’d be more into helping me with mine.

I sit back down in front of my laptop, do some quick searching, then text her back.

Check the circuit breaker. Also, there should be a reset button on the high-temperature cutoff by the thermostat. Try pushing that.

Lydia

Already checked breaker. Trying reset now.

Great. Also, text me a couple pics of the water heater and its nameplate?

She does as I ask, and I do a little more troubleshooting while I wait to hear about the reset. I have to give my wife credit. She’s clearly stressed, but she doesn’t cry or freak out in a crisis. When things like this happen, she just buckles down and tries to find a solution as best she can. I slip my shoes on and head out the door while I wait for her reply.

Lydia

Didn’t work. Already sent bather home. Going to have to close the rest of today.

As much as I want her home, if she has to shut her doors, she won’t be in any mood for fun.

Let me run to Home Depot. There’s one more thing we can try.

I’m already in my truck, pulling out of the driveway. The hardware store isn’t anywhere near the bike shop, and I try not to think too hard about my change of plans. But if I can manage the repair I just previewed on YouTube, there’s a chance I could turn the day around—for both of us. After all, when Lydia’s happy, I’m happy. And, I think with only a slight twinge of guilt, if I save the day, maybe she’ll want to thank me later between the sheets.

CHAPTER THREE

Anton exits the bathing room, shirt wet and clinging to his chest, covered in dog hair and grime. He places a rusty-looking piece of metal on the desk in front of me with a wide grin. “Congratulations, you’re back in business.”

“Really?!” I set the phone down and leap out of my seat. “I was about to start canceling afternoon appointments!”

“No need.” He gestures to the corroded part. “The new heating element is working, but you might want to replace the whole water heater soon. I think that thing was installed when we were still in elementary school.”

I wrap my arms around him, nestle my chin against his neck, and squeeze. “Thank you. So much.”

His hands come up around me, his fingers tracing along my spine, until I catch Scarlet smirking at us in one of the shop mirrors and blood rushes to my face. Anton frowns as I let go and step back.

“Any time,” he says. “Especially if it means you won’t be stuck here till eight o’clock.”

“It means everything.” I beam. “Seriously.”

Scarlet heads straight into the bathing room with a Havanese and a miniature schnauzer, trying to get caught up on the few morning dogs we didn’t reschedule before we’re hit with afternoon appointments. Our new groomer, Daniela, shaves the feet and face of a patient black standard poodle across the room as the bell above the front door jingles.

“Hi, welcome to Ooh La Pooch!” I say to the woman walking in. “Is this Aspen?” An adorable red English cocker spaniel puppy zooms in circles at the end of her leash. She puts her feet up against the half door separating us when she hears her name, trying to get close enough to sniff me.

“Yes, this is her first time getting groomed,” Aspen’s tastefully dressed owner says with an air of wary enthusiasm. “How long will it take?”

I go over the basics of a puppy’s first grooming with the new client while Anton busies himself collecting his tools. He’s great with his hands and has helped out quite a bit behind the scenes at both of my businesses, but talking to customers is definitely not his thing. He stops to wipe his face with his shirt, inadvertently showing off his eight-pack abs, and Aspen’s owner stops speaking midsentence. Anton doesn’t seem to notice, but my heart does a weird little flop in my chest. Sometimes I forget I’m married to someone who could double as a romance novel cover model.

The new client heads out the door just as Anton grabs the last of his things. “Guess I’ll go home and take another shower,” he says as I pluck a tuft of white fur out of his hair.

“Thank you again, Mr. Richie.” I rise on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “You saved the day.”

“Maybe our night too?” he says, nudging my knee with his leg. “Can I ask you out, Mrs. Richie?”

“I...uh...that sounds nice?” I smile, fidgeting with my necklace—Heartthrob’s paw print shrunken down and pressed in silver—a gift from Anton for my last birthday. I am truly grateful, but I can’t quite meet the sudden heat in his eyes. My mind is swirling, trying to figure out how I’m going to help the girls with the backed-up appointments, make it to a meeting with my contractor about the new space, and still stop by Pooch Park to check in with Tomás and finish payroll. I doubt I’ll have much left in me this evening beyond pajamas and ice cream, but I don’t want to disappoint him. I squeeze his hand. “I’ll text you before I head home.”

Anton flashes a smile, gives the cocker puppy still dancing at the end of her leash a gentle pat, and says goodbye to Heartthrob. He exits the shop just as my cell phone rings. I scoop Aspen into my arms, trying to answer the call as she covers my face with kisses.

“Hey, I’m here at Taco Den. Are we still on for today?” Caprice says. I glance at the clock and curse under my breath. Scarlet starts up one of the dryers behind me, and I lean my other ear against my shoulder to block the noise, raising my voice.

---