Chapter 13 #2
The next few days breeze by with walking the dogs and doing the new client orientation—a handsome Schnauzer whose silver-haired dog dad used to work from home but now has to go into the office once a week.
I also have to attend a meeting at the pet company headquarters, where I do contract work.
Everyone is so nice there and asks about progress on the Barkery.
Sadly, I don’t have much to report at the moment.
Clark picks me up Saturday morning in his Jeep. In my neighborhood, he very well could be leading a parade with all the attention it draws with its shiny paint and flashy rims.
Through the windshield, his eyes are serious—hard, like he’s facing down an opponent on the ice—but then when I get in the passenger seat, they land on me and his gaze instantly softens, almost twinkles.
“You look cute,” he says around an awkward cough.
I’m wearing jeans, a flowy lavender top, and my sneakers with the pawprints instead of the classic checkers. “I’ve worn this outfit a hundred times.”
“It’s my favorite.”
I incline my head with disbelief. “You have a favorite outfit of mine?”
He revs the engine and pulls back onto the street. His phone beeps and he asks me to check it while he gets on the highway. I worry that I might see a message from Posh or another one of the women he’s dated and brace myself for a wave of jealousy. Only, it’s from a familiar contact.
Whitaker: The photographer will be there too. Remember: act natural, authentic, and in love. You’re the face of pet adoption. Make people believe in happily ever afters.
I read it aloud and nearly choke, given the conversation the girls and I had at Once Upon a Romance the other day.
“No pressure,” Clark mutters.
“I’ll just tell Whitaker that we can do this,” I say … and while I’m at it, I could add that I regret going to prom with him back in high school and that he can send his stupid idea to find Clark a girlfriend down a creek. No, a raging river. Into a tsunami!
“We’ll stick to the plan. The rules. We’re prepared,” Clark says.
We practiced kissing! The tingles still haven’t settled down. However, have I prepared myself emotionally? I’ll get back to you on that.
The adoption fair is being held at the Omaha Botanical Garden, which also hosts the weekly Farmer’s Market, so there will be a lot of foot traffic. The parking lot is packed. We circle with the dogs poking their heads out the windows, eager to run free.
The setting is perfect and above all, I’m confident some rescues will find their forever homes today. The spring bulbs are in full bloom with colorful tulips in every color, creating a cheerful backdrop for the rows of kennels and play areas.
Volunteers in Love at First Wag t-shirts mill about and a local news crew shoots footage, plus a few influencers I recognize, make videos.
“This is bigger than I thought,” I mutter when we find a spot.
Clark immediately comes around to my side and opens the door. This is new. He extends his hand. I blink a few times, wondering if he wants me to pass him something or—?
Oh! He wants me to take it. As his fingers wrap around mine, his palm is just the right temperature, slightly calloused from hockey, and is like a perfect glove. And his lips. Those are perfect too. The thought of our kiss sends shivers across my skin all over again.
I shudder a little breath at his continued touch.
If I were smart, I’d zip up my heart and throw away the key, right now. There’s a wishing well nearby. I could toss it in there and never find it again.
A woman with a clipboard spots us and rushes over. “Clark! April! Perfect timing. I’m Sandra, the campaign coordinator. We’re so excited to have you here.”
She launches into rapid-fire instructions about the schedule, the photo stations, and the interview with the local news and a few spots with social media influencers for reels. My head is spinning by the time Sandra finishes.
“Any questions?” she asks.
“Just one,” I manage. “Can we visit with the dogs?”
There are many reasons I work with canines, but a big one is that they are grounding. They get me out of my head and into my happy place.
Her face lights up. “Of course, come right this way!”
The next two hours are a blur of puppies, kittens, and people.
We hold tiny chihuahuas and massive mutts.
We pose for photos with families meeting their new pets.
We answer questions about how we met (true story: I found his dog) and how long we’ve been together (whopper of the decade: dating on and off for years and now serious).
Through it all, Clark makes me think he’s done this before.
According to our Posh pasta primavera conversation, he has.
He remembers to hold my hand. He stands close enough that I can smell his evergreen scent.
When a photographer instructs us to look at each other “like we’re in love,” he gazes at me with such a smoldering intensity that I forget my name.
Someone calls for my attention and it takes a tap on the shoulder for me to snap out of it.
But something is off. I’m stiff. Awkward. Like I’m playing a character instead of being myself.
During a break between photo sessions, I lean close and whisper, “Are we doing this right?”
“I don’t know. It feels weird.”
Ba ha ha. I’m such a silly girl. So he’s not actually in love with me and that’s why it seems so easy for him.
“Very weird.”
“Maybe we’re trying too hard?”
Before I can respond, a volunteer brings over a scared-looking beagle mix. “This is Lulu. She’s been with us for six months and is very shy.”
I kneel and Lulu immediately comes to me, tail wagging tentatively. Within minutes, she’s in my lap, licking my face while I laugh. We’re close to the belly rub stage and I feel like myself again. Phew. That’s a relief.
I look up to find Clark watching me with a soft expression that makes my heart feel like sunshine after months of dreary winter weather.
“Hey, you,” he says, gently tugging on one of my curls.
Unable to suppress my grin, I say, “Hey, to you too.”
The moment stretches between us, cameras forgotten. Our practice kiss drifts into my awareness and I wonder what it would be like if it weren’t practice, but really real. Then Sandra appears again.
“The local news wants to do a quick interview. Follow me!”
We’re ushered to a small tent where a reporter with coiffed hair and blindingly white teeth waits with a cameraman.
“Clark Culpepper and April Hansen,” she says warmly. “Thank you for joining us. I’m Abigail from Channel Nine. Just a few quick questions about your involvement with Love at First Wag.”
The interview starts simply enough with us talking about the charity, about the importance of pet adoption, and about how we both grew up with dogs—my mother had a King Charles Springer Spaniel, but she was treated like a queen. Definitely the favorite child.
Then Abigail leans forward. “And you two are a couple? How long have you been together?”
“On and off for years,” Clark says smoothly, his arm sliding around my shoulders.
I flinch at first because this truly is the stuff dreams are made of and then remember my cue to lean into it. “We’ve been friends since high school.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” She makes a few inquiries about his hockey career, then asks, “With such a demanding schedule, what made you finally take that step from friends to more?”
I freeze. We didn’t plan for this question.
Clark’s arm tightens slightly around me. His gaze fixes on mine and he doesn’t waver as he answers. “I think we both realized that what we had was too special to keep ignoring. Sometimes the best relationships start with friendship.”
“That’s so sweet. April, what’s your favorite thing about Clark?”
My brain short-circuits. I’m supposed to say something cute and media-friendly.
Instead, the truth tumbles out. “He makes me laugh even on my worst days. He remembers little things, like how I like my coffee or which flowers are my favorite. And he has the biggest heart—he can’t say no to a dog or a friend in need. ”
Clark’s gaze hasn’t left me, but now he’s staring, eyebrows canted, lips parted slightly.
Abigail beams. “And Clark, what about April?”
“Everything,” he says softly, still looking at me. “I love everything about her.”
The reporter makes a delighted sound. “You two are adorable. One last question: any big plans for the future?”
“Spending time with Clark’s dogs.”
Abigail tilts her head, a question on her lips.
I instantly realize my faux pas. I should have said Our dogs since we’re supposed to be a couple. “I mean that I just enjoy being with Clark and the dogs.”
“With our dogs,” Clark adds as if trying to hastily apply a suture to the situation.
I wince.
“Well, you’re certainly an inspiration for anyone looking for love.
” The reporter turns to the camera. “This is Abigail Chen, reporting from the Love at First Wag adoption event. They’re accepting donations and there are still more than a few cats and dogs here waiting for their forever homes.
Come say hello and tell them Channel Nine sent you. Back to Cooper in the studio.”
The camera light goes off, and Sandra rushes over.
“That was perfect! You two are adorable. My husband is part of the Knights’ Nation and we never miss a game.
I have to admit that I prefer following the players’ lives rather than the puck.
I know how much you support our cause. When I saw you on the kiss cam, I told myself, I have to take this to the board. Thank you.”
I falter because it wasn’t perfect, it was fake and I feel like my heart is going to be left yearning just like Lulu, the little beagle mix.