Page 16 of Hound Dog
He wasn’t there.
Folded on the ground was his hoodie. Perched on top was the pen he had let me borrow the other night, a small Tupperware container with a single frosted cupcake inside, and a handwritten note.
The other night was one of the best in my whole life. But I made a promise to you at the start of it that I wouldn’t take your virtue. And the more I thought about tonight and your mom’s list, the more I realized, tonight should be about crossing off another item on her list—see a shooting star.
In fact, you’ll see dozens of them.
Lay back, Haylee. Enjoy a cupcake. And make as many wishes as you can think of.
And know that somewhere else, I’m seeing the same stars… wishing that I’ll get to see you again someday.
~Finn
I sank to the ground, tears blurring my vision, and my heart shattered into a million pieces.
I’d finally made the choice—one of the biggest choices of my adult life—to lose my virginity to Finn. And instead of honoring my decision about my body, he stole that choice from me.
For noble reasons, sure. But it didn’t change the fact that I was left here alone, vulnerable, and heartbroken.
Bright gold streaked across the sky, and I sniffed, cradling his hoodie to my chest like a security blanket. One by one, stars danced against the velvety ink sky like a laser show. It was no Aurora borealis, but it was a start.
With tears streaming down my face, I pulled my mom’s list out and marked off the line that saidWish upon a shooting star.
“I wish that I finish this list for you before I’m thirty, Mom.” I blinked, watching another star shoot across the sky. “And I wish that someday, I get to come back here to Maple Grove and rub it in Finn’s face what he missed out on.”
Chapter Two
Finn
Present Day(Six Years Later)
“You’ve gotto go with the Maltipoo,” I said, looking Greg dead in the eyes.
Admittedly, these were words I never in my life thought I’d be uttering to another man—especially not one who was twice my size and could easily bench press my whole body. And I’m not exactly a small dude.
He groaned and took my phone, looking more closely at the photo as the birds in the park around us sang, chirping the song of their people to anyone who would listen. It was only nine a.m., but the New Hampshire summer sun was already beating down on my bare skin.
My t-shirt was draped over my shoulder, and I quickly switched it to the other one so that I wouldn’t get an uneven tan… or worse, an uneven burn.
After a long pause, Greg said, “But I like the Newfoundland better.”
Oh, boy. I stole a quick glance at the time. I needed to be back at my brother’s bakery, Beefcakes, in ten minutes to finish my shift there.
I took my phone back from him and swiped through the available dogs listed on the Maple Grove Animal Rescue website before pulling up his entrance questionnaire. “Dude, I get it. That Newfie is gorgeous. But you said that you’re looking for a woman who’s sexy, fit with curves, fashionable, who loves going out to bars, clubs, and for nice dinners. Someone who wants to travel a lot and…” I paused, suppressing the urge to roll my eyes at his last statement. “And who will look good on your arm at work events.”Barf.
Working as a matchmaker had only highlighted how skeevy most of these meatheads who hired me were.
“That’s right,” Greg said.
“Okay. So, here’s the thing: you don’t have to actuallyadoptthe dog we’re walking today. You can just volunteer to take it on a nice walk, then return it to the shelter and adopt the Newfie, if you want. We can even put the Newfoundland on hold for you until we’re done. But the point is, based on the type of woman you’re trying to meet, the Maltipoo is more likely to attract her attention and get the conversation going.”
“Yeah, but then won’t she wonder where that little rat of a dog is later?”
I scrubbed my hand down my face, swallowing my sigh. “We’ve been over this, Greg,” I said, trying to keep the bite out of my voice. “I don’t recommendlyingto her. Tell whoever you meet the truth… that you’re volunteering with the Maple Grove Animal Shelter today, walking dogs that are up for adoption. Trust me, her heart will melt.”
“But if I walk the Newfie—”
“Dude!” I snapped, then quickly got myself under control again. “The girl you want is a little, um…” What the hell was a nice word forprissy? “Polished, right? She’s probably dressed nicely. Wearing a sexy dress?”
