Page 5 of Unmatched

“I’m so sorry! Had an emergency at Ooh La Pooch. Can we rain check?”

“Again?” she says with a hint of annoyance. I bite my lip hard, trying to remember how many times we’ve already rescheduled.

“Thursday. I promise. Foothills Coffee on your lunch break? I’ll be there.”

Caprice sighs and chuckles into the phone. “Guess I can get some work done there either way.”

I cringe, hating that my friend knows to make backup plans when making plans with me, but also appreciating her for it. “You’re the best.”

“I know.”

“You still going on that date tonight?” I ask, setting the puppy on a grooming table and rewarding her with several treats while she sniffs the new setting. I switch my phone over to Bluetooth and grab my headset so I can speak hands-free.

“With the professor guy? Yes, good memory!”

I grin, running a brush gently through the little cocker’s coat, getting her used to the sensation. “I want to hear how it goes.”

“Maybe I’ll fill you in Thursday. Hope your day isn’t too nuts. Say hey to Anton.”

We hang up as I finish trimming Aspen’s nails and reward her again, then I take her back to the bathing room. Scarlet has rotated back out to the front of the shop, so I’m able to give the puppy a quick, efficient bath without having to make small talk. As I towel her off, Heartthrob wanders into the room, nudging his nose against my butt. He spent most of the morning sleeping in one of the open kennels, but I now realize he hasn’t been out to pee since we got here.

“I’ll take you as soon as I get this little one dry,” I tell him.

In reply, he curls his tail over his back and unearths a hairy tennis ball from the corner, rolling it around his mouth with the same hopeful look he gave me this morning after Anton stormed out of the room.

I close my eyes, wondering how I’m going to handle things at home tonight. If I can make it back before eight, Anton and I could at least have a late dinner together. It has been a while since we went on a real date, but thinking about all the effort of dressing up and finding somewhere to go at the end of the day just makes me tired. Maybe he’d accept a snuggle on the couch instead of an evening out. That actually sounds really nice. We haven’t had much time to simply chat and be together. But even as I picture this, I remember the look in his eyes as he left the shop. The heated one he gets when he really wants to fool around.

With a sigh, I realize I’ll need to offer up more than just conversation this evening. Especially after what happened—or didn’t happen—this morning. I’ve brushed him off too many times lately. And he did literally swoop in and save my day with his super handyman skills. I guess it’s the least I can do, even if I am exhausted. I bite my lip, stomach twisting first with guilt over my lack of enthusiasm, then a hint of resentment that I have to feel bad about it at all.

All of this will be better once the second Pooch Park location is open and running. I’m usually busy, but it has been next-level trying to keep everything running and get it off the ground. After we’ve gotten through hiring and officially opened our doors, I’ll be able to take a step back and rest a little. Have more fun. Then we can have some real date nights, and both of us will be less frustrated. Hopefully by June—September at the latest. We just have to make it through the next few months.

I put on a pair of ear protectors to dull the hum of the dryers and approach the puppy with the machine set to low. She’s nervous at first, but I hold her firmly and securely and coo at her, taking my time, introducing the rush of air at her short little tail and working forward as she gets used to it. Hair from various corners of the room flies into the air as I do this, finding its way into my mouth and clothes. I had already worked up a low-level sweat in the warm shop, and now I’m saturated with the smell of wet dog. Mentally, I add taking a shower to my list of required tasks when I get home. It’s hard enough getting myself in the mood without worrying about dog hair stuck in my bra.

I power the dryer off to Aspen’s immediate relief and wrap her in a towel. The little English cocker wags her butt as I stop and pull my phone from my pocket. After some deliberation, I send Anton a kiss emoji and tell him I’m excited for this evening. Because I want to be. And if I say it enough, maybe I’ll even start to feel it.

CHAPTER FOUR

Heartthrob trots into the house at nearly eight p.m. with Lydia behind him. He makes a beeline for the dish I set out for him in the kitchen while she stumbles through the door. “What a day,” she mutters. “Sorry I’m so late.”

I don’t say anything, watching from my place on the couch where I’ve been parked waiting for her the last two hours. I’d left Ooh La Pooch feeling optimistic after repairing the water heater. I found the part to fix my bike, went for a ride, even had a stroke of inspiration when I came home and decided to book us a little getaway. Nothing over-the-top, just a long weekend in the mountains. Lydia’s had so much work stress lately, I thought it might help.

But pretty soon it was five o’clock, then six, and I hadn’t heard from her at all. Two hours ago, I texted asking if everything was okay, and she answered, “Home soon.” Now here she is, waltzing in at eight o’clock like I’ve been in some stasis where I don’t exist unless she does.

“Thought you were going to text on your way home?”

“Oh.” She’s removing her shoes, but her motion slows, and I’m pretty sure she swears under her breath. “I’m sorry. Guess I thought I’d get home faster if I just didn’t stop.”

She slips out of her awful gray hoodie, revealing a snug blue T-shirt and jeans. There is nothing special about this outfit, but the way it hugs her body distracts me, drawing my eyes over the curving lines of her hourglass figure, momentarily taking the sharp edge off my mood. Her hair is up again in its regulation bun, though more of it has escaped now, making me think of how it cascaded over her bare shoulders this morning. Or was that some other time, further back in the past?

“Anton?”

I look up, tracking back to the present. She’s gazing at me with a tired smile. “You still want to go out? Or maybe just order in?”

My fingers curl against my palms. I am freshly shaved and dressed to go, but I don’t have to guess her preference. I rub my hand over my face, then glance at the clock, searching for the easiest path. “Sure. Yeah. We can order in if that’s what you want.”

She exhales, walking by me toward the hall but staying easily an arm’s length away. “Oh, good. That sounds perfect.”

And now, selfishly, I’m kind of sorry I bothered helping this morning. If I were a better spouse, I might ask what else happened and give her a chance to unwind. But I guarantee I’ve heard it all before. If not the water heater, then another thing went wrong at one of the Pooches—our nickname for both her businesses. Someone didn’t show up. She had to fill in. Everything else fell behind. Sometimes the details change, but I’m tired of the story. She comes home like this so often that I might even be suspicious she was having an affair if I wasn’t a thousand percent confident she has less time or interest in sex with someone else than she even has for me.

---