Page 45 of The Art of Falling in Love with Your Enemy
Zac
“Did you really have your tuxedo dry cleaned and delivered here?”
Lane stands in front of my desk, holding a plastic-covered suit. He balances the hanger on his finger as he swings it in the air.
“It’s for the fundraiser next week.” Pushing my chair back, I swipe the garment from his hand and cross the room, hanging it on a bolt protruding from the wall. “I was going to pick it up tomorrow, but now my brother is coming through town again with a work buddy and wants to stay the night with me. This was the only way I knew I could do it without forgetting.”
“You’re fancy. I’m wearing a hand-me-down suit I got from my dad,” Lane says, chortling.
“You going to give me grief for owning a tux?”
“Not at all, but”—he inclines his head toward the front lobby—“that’s not the only package that arrived for you today.”
A little part of me fires up with excitement. I’ve spent the last few days trying to get Etta alone so we could talk—or rather, so I could explain to her about the bet. Guys making bets and having a woman involved feels pretty archaic, not that she’s the prize to be won…which sounds even worse. The last thing I want is for her to think the bet started for some twisted reason to mess with her, and I’m not sure if she’s going to understand how it was more about me and Tuck and the baseball card, and less about her.
Nope. Still sounds bad in my mind when I run through it.
In a few quick strides, I’m in the lobby, peering over the counter at one adorable schnauzer, sitting and looking at me with his tongue out and panting away.
“Thor? You’re here again?”
At the sound of his name, he’s up on his back legs with front paws waving in the air. I make my way around the reception desk and into the lobby to pick him up. The little guy immediately nestles into my arms and snuggles in.
Well, he may not be Etta, but he’s a close second. I make my way back to my desk, stopping every few steps for Thor to be pet and rubbed as we go. It’s fair to say he’s fast becoming a station favorite.
Settling back in at my desk, I make sure Thor’s comfy on my lap before shooting a text to Etta, letting her know he’s here.
“I think you’re fast becoming the local dog whisperer.” Lane’s appeared back in front of my desk, this time pulling a chair around with him and sitting down across from me.
“I’ve always had this connection with dogs,” I say with a shrug, running my fingers through Thor’s fur. “Can’t explain it, but my mom has always joked I must have Milk-Bones in my blood.”
“I saw on your resume that you were the head trainer for the first canine unit for one of the smaller police stations near Beaufort.”
“Up until then, I was volunteering my training skills. I worked with a group in Georgia to help them get their dogs ready for the blind foundation, then went to Charleston and helped train response dogs for mountain rescue. When my boss asked if I wanted to try my hand at training their first canine unit, you bet I said yes.”
“This is why I know you’ll be the best person to run our canine therapy team—if we can ever get it off the ground.”
“Not getting the grant really hurts, doesn’t it?”
Lane nods. “We’re just shy of fifteen grand that needs to be raised. Once we have that, we’ll be able to break ground and start building the space.”
“Everything’s approved that needs to be?”
“The local council knows how beneficial this will be not only for the residents, but for the town. Brings in jobs, more people, you know, all positives.”
“We have a goal.” Crossing my fingers, I hold them up in the air. “If we raise that money, I’d love to put my hat in the ring for the job of running the program.”
“No worry there, friend,” Lane says, standing up and pushing his chair back to where it was. “You can consider it yours; let’s just get those funds raised.”
As Lane walks away, my cell phone pings on my desk. Glancing at the screen, I see a text flash from Etta:I’m outside the station.
I look down at my furry friend and pat his head.
“Come on, Momma’s waiting.”
* * *
“Thor!” Etta calls out his name and falls to her knees, holding her arms open wide. “Where did you go?”
