Page 51 of Confessions of a Canine Drama Queen

There’s a fantasy I didn’t even know I needed in my life.

Her hair was soft and bouncy from some weird hair dryer attachment she’d used to do her hair, and her eyelids sparkled with something soft and golden. August wasn’t the kind of girl who wore much makeup—she’d said once that she didn’t feel the need because her four-legged clients didn’t care how she looked. But seeing her like this—looking glowing, and a little made-up, and smelling like something sweet and delectable—it reminded him ofthatnight. That fateful, memorable, change-everything night.

“I appreciate the concern, Keaton,” she said. “But you don’t need to worry about me. I’m not your little sister, okay? I’m not someone you need to feel obligated to care about.”

“I don’t feel obligated to care about you,” he said. “And I most certainlydon’tview you like a sister.”

Much to the detriment of his resolve to remain unentangled, unfortunately.

“I don’t mean literally,” she said, shaking her head. “But I thought you always viewed me as that annoying little kid type. A hanger-on.”

“I’veneverviewed you as a hanger-on, August. Not once.” What on earth was going on with her right now? Could she not tell that the kiss was a poorly disguised attempt to have something he’d wanted a long time ago? That he might want again now?

You don’t want to start anything with her. Or anyone else.

Then why did it feel like there was something brewing. Like a storm was coming. Like lightning was about to strike.

“I know we banter and stuff, but...” He shook his head. The teasing was always to keep her from getting too close, but it was never meant to push her away entirely. He didn’t want that. “I respect you.”

She bit down on her lip. Something had well and truly rattled her.

“We should get going. They’re waiting for us.” She pushed the car door open and stepped outside, leaving Keaton baffled.

“It’s not your problem,” he said to himself. But as he got out of the car and saw that August was waiting for him, so they could walk over to the group together, he knew it would be a burr under his skin until he figured out what was up with her.

“I’m so glad you two could join us,” Scout said with a bright smile as he and August approached them outside the restaurant. It was a cute mom-and-pop place, with red-and-white-striped awnings and a chalkboard sign stating the evening’s specials. “Keaton, this is my husband, Lane.”

She indicated a tall man with red-tinted brown hair and an easy, friendly smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“And this is my husband, Theo,” Isla said, smiling up at the man standing next to her, who looked serious though not unfriendly.

Keaton knew who Theo Garrison was immediately. Old money Manhattan royalty, a figure he’d only ever seen as a name printed in papers under his picture or someone whispered about in exclusive venues. Keaton wasn’t one to get starstruck, but it was strange to meet a man in person when he had such a larger-than-life reputation.

He stuck his hand out to each of the men. “Thanks for including us.”

“Of course. It’s good to see you, August.” Lane reached in and gave her a warm hug. Theo followed with a peck on the cheek. It seemed the two men had quite different personalities—Lane, like Scout, was laid-back and open. But Theo would probably take a little warming up.

“Shall we head inside?” Isla asked, ever the leader.

The group followed her and they were quickly seated at a corner table with a banquette on one side and wooden chairs on the other. Tea light candles were dotted along the table, along with small bottles of balsamic vinegar and olive oil. Wine and food were ordered, and bread appeared at the table with small bowls for dipping. Isla poured the oil and vinegar into the bowls and made sure everyone had access.

When the wine came, Theo took a small taste and then it was poured for the table.

“So, I’m confused about how you’re involved in this whole thing,” Lane said to August, who was sitting across from him, next to Keaton. “You’re not working with Scout and Isla?”

“No, I’m here as a...helper.”

“It’s a long story,” Isla said. “But the producer of the documentary got the idea from her niece, who’s a dog groomer. They’re following three women-run businesses in the animal space, including the niece.”

“Ah.” Lane nodded. “So August is competition.”

August laughed. “I guess so.”

“Frankly, I think they would have been better following August,” Isla said. She tucked a strand of long, dark hair behind one ear. “She has a much more successful business and she even grooms the pets of several celebrities.”

“Really?” Lane’s eyebrows shot up. “Like who?”

“Technically I’m not supposed to say too much,” August replied, pausing to take a sip of her wine. The deep red color left a slight stain on her lips and Keaton caught himself staring. “But I may have groomed the pet of a certainGame of Thronesactor.”

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