Page 46 of Unmatched

“Great, I’ll be right back.”

I hand off the little Frenchie to Tomás, who introduces her to the small dog area as we watch through the window. She hesitates at first, looking cautious as the dachshunds and a Westie all come over to sniff her, but she quickly decides this is fun and engages a little beagle mix in a very bouncy game.

I smile at Henry. “Just as I suspected. She’ll be a perfect fit.”

“Great,” he says, looking relieved. It seems obvious now that he’s less than thrilled with his new charge. Henry’s a good-looking guy, always well dressed, hair never out of place. The few times I’ve been to his Seventeenth Street loft with Anton, it’s looked much the same as its owner. He reminds me a bit of Caprice—not really a dog person.

“How long did you say you’re taking care of her?”

“Only through summer. I hope. While Ruby’s back in England finishing her studies.”

“That’s so cool that you can give her a good home while your sister’s gone. Carmelita will have a blast here.”

Henry sniffs. “What’s the pricing like for this, by the way?”

I indicate the fees detailed on the wall behind the desk. I’m not sure exactly what Henry does for work—something with real estate or banking—but he always drives a leased Mercedes, so I doubt it’ll be a problem for him.

He studies the board, peers through the window like he’s counting dogs, then gives a low whistle. “You make a killing with this, don’t you? Just sitting around watching dogs play.”

My face heats up. Occasionally, people bring this up. Usually men. I’m proud of my business, but when they make it sound like I’m raking in money doing nothing, it always makes me feel weird. I work my butt off to run this place.

“Just filling a niche,” I say with an awkward laugh. “People in Denver love their dogs.”

He leans casually on the desk. “You have another business too, right?”

“Yep, Ooh La Pooch was my first. It’s a grooming salon. And we’re actually in the process of opening a second Pooch Park.”

Henry shakes his head, looking me up and down in a peculiar way, and suddenly I can’t tell if he’s impressed that people spend so much on their dogs or that I’m really a successful businesswoman.

“Okay, go ahead and give me the monthly package.” He hands me a credit card. “Ruby had better pay me back for this.”

I input Carmelita into our system as Tomás brings her back out, still running in delighted circles at the end of her leash. Henry holds it at arm’s length until she settles down.

“All set,” I say, handing him his new member card and receipt. “You can bring her in tomorrow if you like.”

“Great. Thanks, Lydia.” He nods and strides for the door. “Tell Anton I owe him one.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

I pace to the front window, but the driveway is still empty. I drove by both The Pooch Park and Ooh La Pooch earlier, saw her car at the latter, and drove back home. I called my brother Seth, went to the gym, then deep cleaned our entire bungalow. I was about to buy flowers or chocolate, but that seemed so cliché I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Instead, I ordered from Lydia’s favorite sushi place, and it’s waiting in the fridge for whenever she gets home.

If she comes home.

I know I fucked up. Possibly even more than yesterday. I’ve at least added insult to injury.

Lydia performing a striptease was the last thing I expected to wake up to today. I didn’t know how to react. At first, I’ll admit I was a little excited. Her movements were awkward and kind of stiff, but as soon as her tits swung free, I absolutely did not care. As she continued, though, I started to realize how forced the whole thing was. She wasn’t smiling; she didn’t make eye contact. Because she clearly didn’t want to be doing it. And when she spoke to me in that awful little-girl voice, my dick just deflated. It wasn’t till she was gone that I could see her actions for what they really were: a gesture. She may have repelled rather than enticed, but she tried. Really hard.

My phone rings.

“Hey.”

“Still not home?” my brother asks, a little surprised.

“Nope,” I say, walking by the front window again.

“She’ll be back, man.” His voice is so sympathetic, I want to end the call and go back to sitting in silence. But at the same time, part of me is afraid to hang up.

“She has the dog.”

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