Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Mara
“What about a Weiner?” Lark asks. “Everyone loves a Weiner.”
“No.” I shake my head and scroll down, searching for the cutest, most inspirational cartoon graphic of a dog the app has to offer. “It has to be more compelling. We need people to look at the flyer and automatically reach for their wallets.”
“This one is a-doodle-able,” she says, stopping on a mixed poodle breed.
“No, no, no.” I scroll past each one in frustration.
A headache builds behind my eyes, and I thrust the phone at Lark. This event needs to be a success. Mossy Oak Animal Shelter depends on it.
Lark suddenly gasps and slaps the counter so hard a bag of treats topples over. “This is what you need!”
I rub my temples. “What?”
“A hot, dog-loving date.”
She tilts my phone at me, and I see she’s on a dating app. Holidates Dating.
“It’s an app for people who need a date for an event,” Lark says. “That’s perfect.”
“I don’t need a date to the event.” Frustration makes my voice sharper than I intend. “Sorry, but I just need a dog for the flyer. What’s a date going to do for me?”
Lark dramatically clutches her heart. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t want a handsome, dog-friendly guy on your arm at the event? Someone who melts hearts and helps raise donations?”
I bite my lip and think about it for a moment. The cutie I met at the cafe last weekend comes to mind. He would do just fine. Handsome, tall, and Cupid-approved, he would do more than fine.
But I don’t even know his name.
“I don’t think so,” I say.
But Lark isn’t giving up. “Picture it!” She lifts her arms as if painting the air. “A charming date on your arm. The perfect PR moment. Donations skyrocket.” She punctuates every word, milking the drama. “Puppies get adopted. You , finally, get some action.”
I groan. “You make it sound like I’m some kind of dating charity case.”
Lark shrugs. “If the leash fits.”
I make a grab for my phone, but Lark holds it over her head and scoots away.
She places her hand on the golden statue of a cat waving that greets customers to the grooming section of the pet shop and pretends to channel his spirit.
“Horchow thinks you need to live a little.” She grins. “And get a little, too.”
“Give me back my phone.”
Lark taps the screen. “Just a second. I’m downloading the app.” She glances up and winks. “It’s for the good of the dogs.”
She knows how to hit where it hurts. “Fine. Maybe a date won’t kill me.”
She snorts. “Hopefully not.”
Maybe a date to the event will do me good. Lark is right; it’s been a while since I had any fun. “But I’m picking my profile picture.”
Lark’s eyes twinkle. “Oh, honey. I already did.”
She proudly shows me my profile, complete with a photo of me snuggling a golden retriever. It’s a bit blurry and more than a few years old, but it will do fine. I’m not trying to meet the love of my life. I only want a date to a fundraiser.
“Not bad,” I admit. “But I’m writing the profile.”
Lark dismisses me with a wave. “Already done.”
“LARK. NO.”
“LARK. YES.”
Her thumbs fly across the screen, and a grin transforms her face. “I’m good. I’m so damn good .”
“Let me see!”
She shakes her head. “Trust me, you’ll like it.”
“You’re so annoying.”
“You’re just mad because you know I’m right.” She hops up on the counter and swings her feet while she finishes writing my profile. “You should know by now, I’m never wrong.”
A customer comes into the shop with a teacup Yorkie on a leash.
“Why can’t men be as great as dogs?” I ask. “Look at that cutie.”
The teacup Yorkie trots along on his leash, then pauses to lift his leg on a sign advertising scratching posts for cats.
Lark laughs. “They’re all animals.”
The owner apologizes, but I wave her off and reach for the spray bottle of cleaner and the paper towels. “It’s the third time today.”
She looks on sheepishly while I spray down the sign and wipe it off.
“Can you recommend a coat for Tyson?” she asks. “I haven’t been able to find anything his size.”
“Of course.”
I lead the way to an aisle in the middle of the store where all our specialty coats hang. Some of them handmade by locals, others are curated from around the country. I grab a tiny leopard print jacket, complete with a hood.
“This would be adorable.”
“You got a match!” Lark yells from the front of the store.
I ignore her and focus on the customer, helping her try the jacket on pint-sized Tyson.
“You got another match!”
Tyson’s owner smiles at me. “You’re popular.”
I shrug and show her the matching leash that goes with the jacket. She says she’ll take both.
“Are you coming to the fundraiser?” I ask, never one to miss an opportunity to spread the word about the shelter’s needs.
“I haven’t heard of it.”
I tell her all about the fundraiser that’s being held uptown in two weeks. “We will have a silent auction, a dee jay, and a live adoption center.”
“Another match!”
Lark’s voice sounds more eager with every match. If I do find love, she’s going to take every opportunity to say I told you so.
Her enthusiasm is contagious. For the first time in months, my heart quickens at the prospect of dating.
I wouldn’t mind someone totally different than the last few men I’ve gone out with. Maybe someone a little older with a kind smile and velvety brown eyes. The image of the man I’d met at the café flashes to mind. Not for the first time, I regret not finding out his name.
Reminding myself that it wasn’t meant to be, I finish up with Tyson before grabbing my phone from Lark.
Her profile caption brings a smile to my lips.
Dog lover, business owner, and accidental collector of stray pets. If you don’t like dogs, keep swiping. If you have a dog, send pics immediately.
I edit the post for matches in their forties and up. I wouldn’t mind a spicy older man bringing his wisdom to the conversation, and very possibly the bedroom.
Ding! A match pops up.
“Ohhhh, another one!” Lark peers over my shoulder. “He looks kind of familiar.”
He’s absolutely gorgeous. His graying hair gives him a distinguished air, and the round glasses make him look cool and retro. He doesn’t have the soulful eyes of the man from the café, but he’s a ten on my scale.
“He’s available,” I say, checking the date for the fundraiser. “What do you think?”
Lark squints at the screen. “He’s hot in a Daddy sort of way.”
I scroll through his profile, reading his answers to the prompts. He’s funny, mysterious, and charming. “Who knew I was into older men?”
“You should go for it,” Lark says. “He’s perfect.”
“There’s no way he’s single.”
“Only one way to find out,” Lark says, grabbing my phone again.
Before I know it, she’s agreed to a match.
“You’re the worst best friend ever!”
“You’ll be thanking me later.”
I snatch my phone back, and to my surprise, Graham D. has already responded.
He’s available and ready to be my date to the fundraiser. All I have to do is click yes to accept.