Page 92 of The Girlfriend Zone

“I know. I feel terrible. But I’ll help you find a dog-sitter. I promise. I know we can’t board them.”

“Understatement of the century,” I mutter, since the pack can’t handle boarding. Boo was banned from the dog hotel because he tried to hump all the other guests. He’s neutered, of course, but no dog likes a rando canine’s come-ons. Add Boppity’s anxiety and Bippity’s sneaky Houdini ways and the pack spells trouble at the dog inn.

“Maybe Birdie can help out?” Charlie suggests.

“That’s an option.” Birdie’s pretty busy with High Kick, but she could help me out a night here and there. I’ll keep that in my back pocket.

“Let me make some calls. But if you know anyone, let me know.”

“I can ask around,” I say before hanging up.

I wash my hands, clean the lens, and pop it in.

Time to solve this problem. Just like I taught myself to cook when Dad left—I get things done. And now it’s on me to make this happen.

First stop, my brother’s place. I swing by, pick him up, and the second he slides into the car, he harrumphs.

“What’s going on?” I ask. I want to ask him to help out more with the four tiny terrors, but he’s got his hands full with his own kids, as well as making his mark with a new team.

“You have no idea how hard it was to get the kids to school this morning. They heard we were visiting dogs, and now Luna’s begging me to bring one home.”

“Well, maybe you’ll find one for her.”

He shoots me a withering look. “I’m barely keeping it together. I can’t add another mammal.”

And clearly, I can’t ask him to help chauffeur them. “You’re doing a good job managing,” I say, since he needs the encouragement, and really, it’s not fair to ask him to help with the dogs after we return with everything he has on his plate. I’ve got to handle this for Mom, like I promised I would. She deserves to go on that cruise. And she’s leaving in two days so I need to solve it fast. I can’t drop the ball. Not when it matters to her, and not when Charlie’s in a real bind. It’s a lot, but I’ve done it before. And I’ll do it again.

When we arrive at Little Friends, I shove that worry aside for the moment. Time to focus on the team and the work we’re trying to do in the community. But once we’reinside the shelter, my focus snaps instantly and irrevocably to the brunette with the camera waiting in the dog playroom. One glance at Leighton, playing with a frosty-faced old dog who happily seems to melt into her affection, and my heart does funny things.

An insistent longing tugs at my chest, but I do my best to push it down, dismissing all these feelings as she shoots pics. I keep it together as Tyler, Asher, Max, Wesley, and Rowan pose for pictures—with a Frenchie with its tongue hanging out, an Aussie Shepherd who has arthritis, and, as the shelter manager tells us, a Lab-Border Collie mix recovering from an ACL tear.

That comment catches my attention just as I lock eyes with Leighton. Recognition, sympathy, understanding—they all pass between us in that fleeting moment. “He’ll find a good home,” Leighton says softly, just for me.

And that doesn’t help my efforts to keep it together.

I scratch the dog’s soft chin. “I hope he finds a second chance,” I say.

Just like I did. And since I can’t take them all home, or any dog for that matter, I write a big check before we leave.

Later, after practice, I’m still making calls, trying to find a reliable dog-sitter in the area at the last minute. Surely my mom’s mutts aren’t the only ones who need specialized care.

But I’m not making much progress. The call I’m on with a dog hotel asking for recommendations seems to be going nowhere as I pace down the corridor outside the weight room. “Thanks anyway for checking. I’ll look at thepet-sitting apps,” I say, even though I’ve been on them all morning to no avail. I hang up, frustrated and annoyingly helpless.

I heave a sigh as Coach turns around the corner, then stops when he sees me. “How’s it going? Everything okay?” he asks with real concern.

So it’s that obvious? I’d better get it together since I don’t need him to see me struggling. But then again, he can already see that I’m frustrated. Maybe part of being a leader is admitting when you need help. It’s not easy, but here goes.

I scratch my jaw. “I’m in a bind with my mom’s feisty little dogs. I need a dog-sitter I trust who can stay at my place when I’m on the road during their cruise,” I say, then add the dates.

I don’t usually share stuff like this with him. Is he going to brush it off with a half-hearted “good luck,” or is he actually going to give me some solid advice?

Because I could seriously use it right now.

Coach’s lips twitch. A glint flickers in his eyes. “I’ve got someone for you.”

29

A THANK YOU GIFT

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