Page 2 of Fa-La-La-La Faking It
Mr. Martin pointed at the puppy with a shaky hand. “Real dogs don’t wear costumes.”
“More great news. Fuzzy is quite real. Not at all imaginary. If you pet him even one time, you’ll see just how real he is.” Adaline crouched down to run her hand over Fuzzy’s back. “His coat is very soft. Are you sure you don’t want to give it a shot?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
Okay, then.
Mr. Martin rummaged around in his bedsheets, looking for something.
“Can we help you find anything?” Adaline offered.
Please say no.There was a limit to how much time she could put on a happy face and pretend that his clear dislike for her and her dog didn’t hurt her feelings, and she was quickly approaching it.
“As a matter of fact, yes.” He fished the nurse call button panel from the blankets and haphazardly jabbed at it. “Which one of these blasted things makes you and Rudolph go away?”
Ouch. That was harsh, even for Mr. Martin.
“No worries, we’re going.” Adaline held up a hand in a jolly wave. “See you next time.”
“I’ll be counting the minutes,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Would you like us to close your door on the way out or leave it open?” One last opportunity for him to make a decision and establish a small bit of control. From what Adaline could tell, he really needed it. She reached for the doorknob.
“Close it,” Mr. Martin said with a sigh. “I suppose I’ll see you next week.”
Adaline couldn’t believe her ears. Had he just admitted that he looked forward to her visits? Not in so many words, but it might’ve been the nicest thing Mr. Martin had ever uttered to her.
Then, just when Adaline was doing backflips in her imagination, congratulating herself and Fuzzy on making a difference, he had to go and ruin it. Because of course he did.
“Don’t forget to take that ugly mutt with you.”
Adaline froze halfway out the door. Ugly? That was really going too far. Fuzzy was, objectively speaking, completely adorable. He was a purebred Cavalier King Charles spaniel, for goodness’ sake. With their expressive eyes and beautiful coats, Cavaliers were nearly as famous for their looks as they were for their gentle, loving demeanor.
None of that mattered in this context, though.Alldogs were cute, full stop. Insulting someone’s appearance was just plain mean...and wrong. It gave Adaline flashbacks of her awkward elementary school years. Fifth grade, in particular.
Just let it go, Adaline told herself, even as her eyes filled with tears. The last thing she wanted was for Mr. Martin to see that he’d finally broken her down.
She closed the door to 212 as quickly as she could, but it was too late. In the split second before the door clicked shut, Mr. Martin’s gaze fixed with hers. At the sight of her obvious hurt, his lips curved into a rare grin. Smug and self-satisfied, just like the Grinch after he’d stolen the roast beast.
Adaline’s face burned with the heat of a thousand pre-lit Christmas trees. Her heart pounded hard in her chest. Maybe she should just give up on the man. Or give up on pet therapy, in general. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for this at all.
“It’s not you, it’s him.”
Adaline blinked, and a fresh wave of mortification washed over her. Someone had actually witnessed the exchange she’d just had with Mr. Martin.
Perfect. Just perfect.
She turned around and forced a smile at the man standing just behind her to the left. She’d never seen him before in her life. Adaline was sure of it. In a town as small as Bluebonnet, that chiseled face and perfectly square jaw wouldn’t have escaped her notice. Then again, the stranger had the build of a lumberjack—along with the lumberjack uniform of cozy red-and-black buffalo plaid shirt, worn-in jeans and work boots—which probably meant he didn’t frequent bakeries or indulge in pie on the daily, so maybe she’d simply been hanging out in the wrong part of town.
“I think Mr. Martin is just having a bad day,” she said, as if today was an aberration when it most definitely was not.
“Or I’m right, and he’s just a bit of a jerk.” The man squatted down to properly greet Fuzzy, who’d begun dancing a full-blown cha-cha at his feet in a flagrant bid for attention. “Aren’t you a cutie? What’s your name?”
“Adaline.”
The man grinned up at her, displaying the most beguiling set of dimples she’d ever seen on a man in real life. No wonder she couldn’t think straight.
She swallowed. “You meant the dog, didn’t you?”
