Page 8 of Summer with a Single Dad

“If I had to do all the work, it wouldn’t be worth my trouble,” I countered.

“Touché,” she said.

“It didn’t get that far anyway,” I said. “It was just a regular kind of night. But when he kissed me, I didn’t feel anything.”

“Again, I’ll say?—”

“Quit talking about dicks,” I said. “You know, for as much as you’re focused on me getting laid, you sure are one to talk.”

“I’m living vicariously through you.”

“Honey, if that’s your argument, then we’re both pretty muchdead.”

Her laughter roared through the phone. Moose lifted his head and groaned.

“And by the way, you’re one to talk. You need to date, too.”

“I know, I know,” she said. “Why don’t we make a promise to try a little harder? You had that one amazing night with Chris, and you lost your momentum.”

“I didn’t have momentum. I had a nosy-ass best friend who forced me into his arms.”

“I don’t remember you complaining,” she said. “That night or the following day when you told me all about your wild and crazy night.”

I should have left him my number, I thought as I chewed my lip.

“Yeah, well. He was only in town for the night. Why get caught up in something that would never become more than a one-night stand?”

“Thank your lucky stars you had that one night. I haven’t had a night like that since I was twenty-two. My first orgasm.” Cassie sighed as if reminiscing, but it could have been from loneliness. The poor thing really was living vicariously through me.

“Why don’t we go out tonight and see if we can get into some trouble,” I said.

“I’ll be ready at eight!” Her enthusiasm made me smile.

“I gotta go!” I said, realizing the time. “I have a prospective client coming in twenty minutes. Text me where you want to go, and I’ll meet you.”

“And I have another blowout,” she said, laughing. “Mrs. Collins’s poodle is here for her bi-weekly primping. That lady is crazy as all get out, but she’s a hoot.”

“Yes, she is.” Mrs. Collins was retired, radiant, andrich. Her French poodle, Gigi, was equally as fabulous. I helped train Gigi a few years ago, but Mrs. Collins still brought her to group classes to socialize from time to time. I enjoyed seeing one of my star pupils every now and again. It didn’t hurt to have Mrs. Collins around bragging about the marvelous job I did for her precious Gigi.

The boys and I were out front playing while I waited for Christopher Graham to arrive. We’d only communicated via email, but the name automatically brought very vivid memories to mind. When an unfamiliar truck stopped in front of my house, I called the boys to follow. I stopped at the top of my driveway and waited. Moose and Rufus sat dutifully on either side of me.

My stomach muscles jumped, then clenched when my prospective client hopped out of his truck. Overstimulated by my wayward thoughts, my mind had to be playing a trick on me.It can’t be, I thought as he got closer, but there was no denying it. I’d remember him anywhere—tall, dark brown hair, a chiseled jaw, and a body that wouldn’t stop.

For a moment, all I could do was stare. “Ch-Chris?” I stumbled out.

His eyes lit up. “Madison?”

“Uh, well, it’s actually Emily.” He was even more handsome than I remembered.

“Emily? You gave me a fake name?” He drew his eyebrows together, confused.

Moose gave a snort that seemed to say,You got caught!

“I gave you my real last name. I never thought I’d see you again.” My defense was weak. And now that he was standing in front of me, it felt foolish to have lied.

“Huh,” he murmured. “Well, I’m here now. And I’m in dire need of a dog trainer. So . . .” He gestured toward the house. “This is where you work?”

“It is,” I said. “Here and at a couple of dog parks around town. I do in-home sessions for people who can’t make it because of work or whatever.”

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