Puppy Love Read online

  But on the second command, the terrier obeyed with a sigh, resting his nose on his paws as he lay beside the larger dog. Adam told them both to stay, then turned to face Shasta, the other border collie, who was standing at attention nearby, ears pricked toward him.

  “Wait,” he told her. Then he turned to me. “Want to see how it all comes together? Shasta and I can show you a course like the one we did in our last competition.” He smiled proudly at the dog. “She won that one, by the way.”

  “I’d love it,” I said. “Thanks!”

  “Great. Here we go.” Adam returned his attention to Shasta. He called her over and told her to sit, then sent her at the first obstacle, a jump. He ran along as she sailed over it, directing her with hand and voice toward the next jump. After that came the weave poles, then the long, narrow dog walk, then various other obstacles. Trainer and dog were in perfect sync the whole way through; Adam barely seemed to have time to name and point at the next obstacle before Shasta was racing toward it.

  The course finished with Shasta hopping up on the pause table beside the other two dogs. She sank down immediately, panting with exertion but on alert, as if perfectly willing to run the whole course again.

  “Good girl!” Adam cried with a grin, stepping over to fondle her head as she wiggled with pleasure. He stepped back from the table and clapped his hands. “Free!” he said.

  Both border collies visibly relaxed; Lark stood and stretched, then jumped off the table and started sniffing around at something in the grass underneath it. Jinx was off the table just as quickly, though Shasta stayed where she was, seeming to enjoy the rest.

  “That was so cool,” I said, hurrying to join Adam by the table. “I totally want to do that with Muck!”

  “Awesome.” Adam grinned at me. “I was hoping you’d feel that way. Want to try a sneak preview right now?”

  His smile made me feel as wiggly and happy inside as Shasta at the start of her agility course. Was it my imagination, or was Adam gazing at me as if I were the only other person in the world? I couldn’t be imagining that, right? In any case, it was definitely a different look than the one I was used to from puppy class.

  “Definitely,” I said, trying not to shiver too visibly. “How do we start?”

  “Here, let me take him for a sec.” Adam reached for Muckle’s leash, his hand brushing mine and making my skin go all tingly and warm. “Come, Muckle. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  Muckle jumped up and barked, clearly excited to be getting some attention. “What do you do first?” I asked.

  “It’s important to introduce the equipment properly.” Adam slipped back into teacher mode, his voice going all serious. “The most important thing is to keep things fun and positive. You want the dog to think agility training time is the most awesome part of his day.”

  “Even better than dinnertime?” I joked. Muckle’s ears pricked toward me at the sound of his favorite word.

  Adam smiled briefly, then returned his attention to Muckle. “Okay, little guy,” he said in a high, bright voice. “Shall we try a jump? Come on, let’s jump!”

  He used the leash to guide Muckle toward a low jump, one that hadn’t been on Shasta’s course. It was too low for Muckle to duck under, so when he came to it, he hopped over easily.

  “Good boy!” I exclaimed.

  Adam was praising Muckle too, using that same happy, high-pitched voice. Muck lapped it up, his tongue flopping out of his mouth. He let out a few barks and spun in a circle, his tail wagging almost too fast to see.

  Adam laughed. “I think he likes it so far, eh?” he said to me. “Come on, why don’t you give it a try?”

  What followed was probably the most thrilling twenty minutes of my life. Adam stuck to me like glue as I learned how to guide Muckle over a few easy obstacles. At least once at each new obstacle, Adam’s hand was on mine, showing me exactly what to do. Once, when we were helping Muckle over the A-frame, he even leaned in over my shoulder so his chest touched my back. It was the next best thing to slow dancing.

  “Excellent!” he exclaimed as Muckle crept eagerly but cautiously down the far side of the seesaw as I praised him lavishly. “See? You’re both naturals. All you need is a little instruction, and you’ll be ready to start entering beginner competitions in no time!”

  “You think? Wow.” I was flushed and out of breath from running around; I hoped that was making my cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink rather than causing my entire face to go all blotchy. Just in case, I buried my face in Muckle’s silky fur as I grabbed him off the seesaw and gave him a big hug. He wiggled joyfully and slurped at my ear.

  “Yeah, Muckle definitely has talent. He could eat up the competition in his size group,” Adam assured me.

  “Wow,” I said again, releasing Muckle, who ran off to jump on Adam’s dogs. “Well, it’s probably just because you’re such a good teacher.”

  He grinned. “You flatter me. But seriously, I’d be happy to talk about private lessons if you’re interested. You and Muckle would be a blast to teach.”

  “Really?” Now I was sure my cheeks were pink. Probably more like fuchsia. Adam wanted to give me private lessons! He thought it would be fun to spend more time with me, one on one! Well, one on two, technically. But I couldn’t think of a better wingman than Muckle, at least where dog-crazy Adam was concerned. “Thanks,” I said, cautiously taking a step closer and smiling up at him. “That would be great. Super great.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed, smiling back. “You really think you’re ready to put in the time? Agility is pretty addictive, you know.”

  “Oh, definitely. I’m pretty sure I’m already hooked.” Hey, what do you know? This flirting stuff was easier than I’d thought.

  “Great.” His grin got even wider. Was it my imagination, or was he leaning in toward me? At least a little?

  We stood there smiling at each other for a long, breathless moment. I felt incredibly connected to him, as if anything could happen. Maybe even a first kiss . . .

  Then my phone buzzed loudly in my pocket, breaking the spell. “Oops,” I said, grabbing it and glancing at the text. “That’s my mom wondering where I am—I was supposed to start dinner.”

  A look of confusion passed over his gorgeous face. “Your mum? I thought she was picking you up.”

  Oops. This was exactly why I didn’t lie much. I wasn’t very good at it.

  “Um, yeah.” I thought fast. “That’s why she texted, actually. She forgot to stop by and get me. She remembered when she got home and realized dinner wasn’t ready or whatever.”

  It wasn’t the smoothest of stories, but Adam seemed to accept it. “So how are you getting home?” he asked. “Do you live close enough to walk?”

  “No. Guess I’m stuck taking the bus.” I paused, waiting for him to pick up his cue and offer to drive me home.

  But he just stepped back and called sharply to Jinx, who was chewing on something over near the gate. Then he looked at me again. “We can talk more about the private training stuff later,” he said, sliding back into teacher mode. “Muckle should really get through puppy class first, anyway.”

  “Oh. Okay.” I grabbed Muckle and snapped on his leash. He didn’t put up a struggle—he’d had a full day and was starting to run out of energy. For once. “Listen, thanks again—this was fun.”

  “For sure. Take care, Lauren.” He smiled. “See you tomorrow.” Then he turned and whistled for his dogs. By the time I let myself out the gate, Lark was halfway through her own course.

  Five minutes later I was peering at the sign at the bus stop, trying to figure out how many eons it was going to take me to get home, when my phone buzzed again. This time it was my dad. He’d just talked to my mom on the phone and heard where I was, which was only a few miles from his office. He told me he was leaving work and offered to swing by and pick me up. I texted back, gratefully accepting the offer.

  “No bus for us today, Muckety-Muck,” I told my puppy, who had collapsed at my feet
and wasn’t even paying attention to the bird pecking at a crumb on the sidewalk five feet away. “You had fun today, didn’t you, little guy?”

  Muckle responded with a yawn, and I laughed and ruffled his ears. It really had been quite a day. For a second, I flashed back to my chat with Jamal. But I shook my head, not wanting to waste any brain cells on that; I would need all of them to savor the time I’d just shared with Adam.

  I shivered, remembering the feel of Adam’s hand on mine, the look in his eyes during that special, breathless moment. We’d tell our kids about this afternoon someday—I was sure of it.

  “I had a good time too, buddy,” I murmured, leaning back against a lamppost to wait for my dad. “For sure.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Saturday, way too early

  I was dreaming about being attacked by an angry goose when I was suddenly yanked out of a deep sleep. No, wait, that wasn’t a goose—it was my mother. She was standing by my bed, squawking loudly about something.

  Squinting up at her, I yawned. “What time is it?” I mumbled.

  “Time to get up and clean up after that dog of yours!” she snapped.

  Uh-oh. Still fuzzy with sleep, I sat up and rubbed my eyes. What had Muckle done now? He’d been so tired after we got home from the dog park the evening before that he’d fallen asleep in his dinner.

  Not me. My afternoon with Adam had left me feeling totally jazzed. Robert’s parents had dragged him to some dinner party with friends of the family, so I’d had to wait for him to get home at around eleven to fill him in. We’d stayed on the phone until almost one a.m., discussing every juicy detail.

  After that late night, I could have used another couple of hours in bed, but Muckle was now apparently fully rested and terrorizing my mother.

  “Ugh,” I said as I glanced at the clock. Not even seven thirty. Way too early to be awake on a Saturday, no matter what time I’d gone to bed the night before.

  Mom grabbed my robe off the back of my desk chair and tossed it at me. “Rug cleaner. Dining room. Now.”

  Uh-oh squared. It didn’t take much to read between the lines here, sleep deprived or not. Muckle had used Mom’s favorite rug as a doggy toilet. Again.

  “Sorry,” I said through a yawn. “I’m coming.”

  By the time I’d finished scrubbing puppy pee off the rug, I was too wide awake to go back to bed. Besides, Muckle was dancing around, looking for attention.

  “You look like you need more exercise,” I told him as I pulled on a pair of jeans. “Want to go for a walk?”

  He barked and practically turned himself inside out jumping around. I took that as a yes.

  Soon we were out wandering down the block. It was a cool morning, and we had the subdivision sidewalk to ourselves aside from the squirrels, who were busy storing nuts and stuff for the winter. Every time he saw one of the bushy-tailed creatures, Muckle barked and tried to take off after it. And every time, he seemed surprised to be caught up short by the end of the leash.

  “I bet Adam’s dogs would never try to decapitate themselves over a stupid squirrel,” I told Muckle as I held him back from chasing yet another one. “You could learn a few lessons from them, you know.”

  The squirrel disappeared into the branches of the Smiths’ oak tree, and Muckle bounded back to me. Would he ever be as well trained as Adam’s border collies?

  “Guess the only thing we can do is try, right?” I told the puppy.

  His ears pricked and his head tilted with interest as he stared up at me, looking ready for anything. That gave me an idea.

  “Sit, Muckle.” I made the hand gesture Adam had taught us. “Sit, boy!”

  Muckle continued to stare blankly for a moment. Then his little haunches dropped, and he sat.

  I laughed. “Good boy!” I cried, using the happy, high-pitched tone I’d heard from Adam. “Good, good boy!”

  Muckle leaped to his feet, bouncing around and barking happily. I rubbed his ears, and then we continued our walk.

  But thinking about Adam and his dogs—and seeing Muckle sit—had inspired me. This time we didn’t just walk. I continued to throw in commands here and there. When we came across a shoe box that must have blown out of someone’s trash or something, I even convinced Muckle to treat it like an agility obstacle and jump over it. It took a couple of tries, a few stares of confusion from Muckle, but finally he caught on and sprang over easily. That brought about so much loud, high-pitched praise from me and loud, high-pitched barking from Muckle that Mrs. Levy opened her front door and peered out at us suspiciously.

  “Morning!” I called to her with a friendly wave. Then I tugged on Muckle’s leash, hurrying us around the corner.

  Once we were out of sight, I bent and gathered Muckle up for a big hug. He wiggled and licked my face.

  “You really are a good pup, aren’t you?” I said. “Adam’s right—you definitely have potential.” I smiled as I said Adam’s name, mentally drifting back to the day before. He truly was amazing—and not only because of the cool accent and the amazing cheekbones and awesome hair. He had actually given me hope that I might be able to train my dog.

  Muckle wiggled harder, and I set him down. He jumped around me, looking happy and excited. Sort of like he was waiting for the next fun thing we were going to do.

  I grinned at him. “Okay, buddy. Let’s see if we can find something else to jump over.”

  By the time we returned home almost an hour later, Muckle was tired but happy. As I closed the front door and unsnapped his leash, I could hear my mother’s voice drifting out of the kitchen.

  I wandered that way and found her sitting at the kitchen table with the phone pressed to her ear. When she saw me, she said, “Hold on a sec, here’s your sister,” into the phone, then gestured me over. “It’s Britt,” she told me. “Come say hello.”

  “Hi,” I said into the phone. “How’s college?”

  “Fine.” Even in just one word, Britt managed to sound snippy. “How’s the animal? Mom says he tinkled in the house again.”

  I grimaced. Definitely snippy.

  “Muckle is fine,” I told her, perching on the edge of a chair and watching as my mother bustled around the kitchen, pretending not to listen to my half of the conversation. Muckle went over to his water dish and took a drink. “His housebreaking is coming along. Did Mom tell you we’re taking a puppy kindergarten class?”

  “Whatever.” Now Britt sounded downright annoyed. “Look, Lauren, if the dog thing isn’t going to work out, could you try to make a decision before Thanksgiving break? Because I’m really not thrilled about being forced to stay in the guest house just so I can breathe in my own home.”

  I rolled my eyes. Clearly my perfect older sister still saw me as some irresponsible little kid. When Mom and Dad had told her they were letting me get a puppy, she’d probably figured I’d lose interest before she came home for break. Like the hermit crabs I got when I was five and ended up giving away to the kid next door.

  Well, I wasn’t five anymore. And Muckle definitely wasn’t a hermit crab.

  “Sorry, sis,” I said through gritted teeth. “You’re just going to have to suck it up, I guess. Because Muckle is here to stay.”

  Over by the sink, my mother pinched her lips together in that disapproving way she had. But she didn’t say anything, or even turn to look at me.

  Still, I could read body language well enough. She agreed with Britt. She still thought Muckle might not work out. Which meant I basically had until Thanksgiving—just a little over a month away now—to turn Muckle into the perfect puppy.

  But no pressure, right?

  * * *

  “You look awfully cranky for a girl who’s supposed to be in love,” Robert said as I climbed into the Volvo a few hours later.

  “Do I? Sorry.” I arranged my features into a placid, pleasant smile. “Better?”

  “Fab.” Robert shot Muckle a dirty look as the puppy scrabbled at the back of my seat. “So what’s going on?”
>
  I told him about Muckle’s latest housebreaking accident as we drove out of the subdivision. “Then Perfect Britt called,” I added with a grimace. “I think she’s working on Mom to make me get rid of Muckle.”

  “Bummer.” Robert didn’t sound particularly concerned. “So anyway, let’s discuss your strategy for today.”

  “Strategy?” I echoed, a little distracted by Muckle, who was licking the backseat. Luckily, Robert didn’t seem to notice. “What are you talking about?”

  “Mr. Perfect, of course.” Robert straightened his tie with the hand that wasn’t on the steering wheel. His outfit today was fairly subdued—white shirt, skinny pants, funky leopard-print tie. “Now that you’ve got his attention, you need to keep it,” he told me. “Strike while the iron’s hot. All that jazz.”

  He sounded enthusiastic. That made me nervous. Well, more nervous. The closer we got to PetzBiz, the faster my heart pounded. Would Adam act any differently toward me today?

  “I don’t know,” I told Robert. “Maybe I should just play it cool today. Let Adam make the next move. If he wants to.” I chewed my lower lip. Something had been bothering me a little, but I hadn’t let myself think about it until that moment.

  Robert sensed my angst immediately. “What?” he demanded, glancing over.

  I sighed. “Well, it’s just that the more I think about it, the more I wonder why Adam didn’t pick up on the cue to give me a ride home. I know I’m not like a flirting expert or anything, but I don’t think I could’ve possibly made it more obvious.”

  Robert reached over to fiddle with the radio, which was whispering a staticky version of a recent pop hit. “Some guys are dense,” he said. “Way of the world, darling. Or maybe he’s shy.”

  “Shy?” I wrinkled my nose and thought about that. “He doesn’t seem shy.”

  “Anyway, it’s the twenty-first century—you don’t have to sit around waiting for the guy to make the first move,” Robert said. “If you want him, you need to go out and get him!” He smiled. “Luckily, I have the perfect plan.”