Page 37 of Confessions of a Canine Drama Queen

“You are.”

“I amnot.” He pointed to Molly. “That dog is a pain in my ass.”

Molly snorted as if to say,The feeling is mutual, asshole.

“Well, if you take that attitude with her, then no wonder you’re not working well together.” August looked at him pointedly. “How would you feel if you had to work with people who were constantly complaining that you were a pain in their asses? And don’t make a Wall Street crack, either.”

“You know me too well,” he grumbled.

“Come on.” She motioned for him to follow her lead. “Let’s try some basic bonding. Have you ever simply patted Molly or given her a good scratch to see if that makes her like you more?”

He shot her a look that said she should already know the answer to that question.

“Come here,” she said firmly.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m the dog.” He folded his arms across his chest.

“Lord give me strength,” she said, tipping her face up to the sky.

Molly glanced at Keaton as though smirking. He could practically hear her snarky voice in his head:Who’s the dramatic one now, bitch?

“Do you want to help Leah or not?” August asked.

“Of course I want to help her. I agreed to come here, didn’t I?”

“News flash, Keaton. Simply gracing people with your presence isn’t enough. You have to put the effort in. If you want Molly to work with you, then you have to form a bond with her.” August put her hands on her hips.

She was wearing a cute but casual outfit of cropped jeans, a pale green sweater that accentuated her small shoulders and ample bust, and white sneakers. Her hair was pulled back and secured with some bandana-tie thing that matched her sweater, but woe to anyone who assumed she was just some cute-as-a-button woman.

August was a boss, period.

Keaton really didn’t like being told what to do. Never had, never would. Probably a leftover of his rebellious teen years.

“It’s a dog,” he said. “Aren’t they bred to take commands?”

She rolled her eyes. “No wonder she hates you! You treat her like she’s an inferior being.”

“Who sits at the top of the food chain, huh?”

“Not humans, actually. We’re not generally considered apex predators by scientific standards because of the diversity in our diet.”

He growled. “Ofcourseyou would know that.”

“It pays to be informed.” Her gaze locked onto his, challenging him to fight her. The woman knew how to dig her heels in, that was for damn sure. “Now are you going to listen to me or not? I would like to point out that you were the one who came to me for help.”

“Fine,” he gritted out. “So what? I just need to pat her?”

“You need to form a bond through physical touch, if she’ll allow it. Which, given your track record, she might not.”

“What happens if she doesn’t?” he asked.

“Then you’re probably screwed and you’ll get sent home in the next round of eliminations.” She shrugged. “So, if you’re fine losing, then don’t worry about it.”

He flattened his lips together. Damn. He’d dealt with a lot of people who liked to poke him over the years, but none were quite as effective as August. She knew exactly where to jab the end of her stick and how to sharpen it when you weren’t looking.

“I don’t want to lose,” he said, feeling his competitive streak flare up.

“Ah, there’s the Keaton I remember.” She grinned. “I knew that petty AF shell-flinging soreMario Kartloser was in there somewhere.”

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