Page 11 of There Is Also a Dog
I need to show up with a router, a dog, the gourmet hot chocolate I got for emergency holiday gifts, and absolutely no wood in my pants.
Five minutes later, I’m putting my coat on and wrapping Agnes in her doggie sweater. “Okay, Agnes. Here’s how it’s gonna go down. And by go down, I mean how things are going to happen. Not in the ‘Jungle Boogie’ sense.We stick to the general plan. We go over there. We reboot. We make a connection. We come back here tonight and we take things slow. You on board?”
Agnes looks up at me, snorts, and licks her lips.
To be honest, this is what she does whenever I put my coat on and say things to her.
But she’s on board.
We got this.
CHAPTERTHREE
jillian
Christ on a Christmascookie baked by a single straight man—Mitchell Conrad is twice as handsome in person and ten times less friendly.
Or maybe I’m ten times less attractive in person and he’s just not into me anymore.
Whatever it is, I don’t even care right now because Agnes the French bulldog just might be the love of my life, and I need to figure out how to get this aloof, broad-shouldered nerd to let me have her. “Can I have Agnes?”
“Nope.” He doesn’t even consider it for a second. He hasn’t looked at me more than once since he got here. He’s just over there setting up the Wi-Fi router like I asked him to.
He didn’t take off his coat. He just removed his boots at the door, handed me a gift box with a selection of gourmet hot chocolate mixes, and went right to work. Doing what I asked him to come over to do. Doing it as soon as possible, as requested.
What a jerk.
I need to rescue Agnes from him.
“But I love her.”
“Everybody loves Agnes.”
“But I think we’re soulmates. See how she’s looking at me? She knows it too.”
He doesn’t look over to see how she’s looking at me. “Everyone thinks Agnes is their soulmate. She looks at everyone like that.”
“But I can’t stop staring at her smooshy face and rubbing her squishy little body.”
“Well, that’s too bad because you’ll have to stop doing that eventually.”
“I love you, Agnes,” I whisper into her crazy, bat-like ears. “I love you love you love you. Yes, I do. I love your sweet, sweet, squishy, sploshy, smooshy face! I thought you were cute in your pictures, but you’re even cuter in real life! Are we in love? I think we are. Do you love me as much as I love you, Agnes? I think you do! Yes, you do.” I whisper-sing into her big, erect, crazy ear, “Here come the brides, one has a smooshy face!”I give her a kiss, right in the middle of her fuzzy, weird little forehead. “Muah!If Santa brought meyoufor Christmas I might actually like Christmas. Yes, I would!”
Mitchell suddenly stops fussing with the router and turns partially in my direction. His expression is neutral. “You don’t like Christmas?” His tone betrays his dismay and mild horror.
I stand my ground. “Not really, no.”
“Whodoesn’t likeChristmas?”
“Me. I don’t.”
He is silent. His jaw is tight. His full lips are pressed together like he’s trying hard to refrain from saying something. I glance down and notice the fingers of one clenched hand stretch out and then flatten against the side of his leg. He raises that hand, just the tiniest bit while shaking his head at me.
Does he want to give me a spanking?
Do I want him to?
According to several parts of me, the answer is yes.
