Puppy Love (13 page)

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.”

Uh-oh. Robert's plans tended toward the—how could I put this?—wildly impractical. Like the ones in those screwball romantic comedies he liked so much. Whereas I preferred things a little more direct, like in a horror movie. You know—grab ax, chop up coed. That sort of thing.

“I don't know . . . ,” I began.

He didn't let me finish. “Look, Adam already said he'd give you private lessons, right?” He glanced over, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “So why not invite him over for one—say, tomorrow afternoon?”

“But he said Muckle has to wait until he graduates puppy class to start agility training,” I said.

Robert shrugged, gunning the car to make it through a yellow light. “Doesn't have to be an agility lesson. You could ask him to help you with Muckle's housebreaking problem. Kill two birds with one stone.”

“I couldn't,” I insisted. Then I paused, thinking it over. “Could I?”

“Sure you can.” Robert sounded confident. “Don't think of it as asking a guy out. Think of it more like hiring a contractor.”

I rolled my eyes. “It's not like I do that every day either.”

“Yeah, okay. This doesn't have to be a big deal, Parker. You like this guy, and you're pretty sure he likes you. It's practically a business arrangement.”

“Hmm.” The more I thought about it, the more the idea was growing on me. Why should I wait around, wondering if Adam actually liked me, if he was ever going to make a move? At the
very least I could do what Robert was suggesting, which would be setting things up to let it happen. As Adam himself told us—we had to set our puppies up for success. Give them the opportunity to do the right thing by making it easy for them. Wasn't this sort of the same situation?

“So?” Robert glanced at me, eyebrow arched. “Are you going to do it, or do I need to keep convincing you?”

“No, it's cool. I'm convinced—I think.” I took a deep breath. “I mean, what's the worst that can happen, right?”

“That's the spirit.”

“No, really. I've got nothing to lose. If he says no or acts weird about it, I can always pass it off as an actual training request thing rather than any kind of date.”

Robert frowned. “Wait a minute. If you're going to go for it, you should just go for it.” Glancing over at me, he shrugged. “Never mind. Baby steps, right?”

“Right.” Spotting the turn for the shopping center, I felt my heart start to pound. “Baby steps.”

Class actually went pretty well. Muckle seemed calmer and more focused than usual. He only stopped a couple of times to sniff at things when he was supposed to be walking with me, and when it was time to sit, he was the first one to obey.

“Perfect, Lauren,” Adam called out, pointing at us. “I can tell you've been practicing.”

“Thanks.” I could feel myself glowing as I bent to give Muckle a treat.

“Show-off,” Jamal whispered with a grin from his position beside me. Ozzy was frolicking around his legs—sitting seeming to be the last thing on his mind.

I smiled back. “What can I say? Muckle's the teacher's pet,” I whispered back. “Get it? Teacher's pet?”

Jamal groaned, but then he laughed. “Remember how you were saying you don't know what to do when you grow up?” he said. “Well, you might want to cross stand-up comedian off the list. Just saying.”

I laughed and stuck my tongue out at him. Then I returned my attention to Adam.

Adam kept us so busy that I forgot about Robert's strategy for a while. Well, sort of. By the time class ended, I was feeling as jumpy and distracted as Muckle usually was when I got home from school.

“See you next time, everyone,” Adam said as he dismissed us. “Make sure you practice between now and then. Consistency is key.”

I kept an eye on him as he headed out of the ring. He stopped just outside and started shuffling through his paperwork. Good. Now was the time to strike.

Before I could head out there, Jamal and Rachel came over. “Hey Lauren, Rach and I were just talking,” Jamal said. “We've both been meaning to try out that café over on West Street—it's supposed to be very dog friendly.”

Rachel nodded and pushed a strand of hair behind one ear. “I
stopped in there with some friends the other day, and there were a bunch of dogs hanging out with their owners. They even sell dog cookies and stuff.”

“So what do you say?” Jamal asked me. “Want to go check it out? You can bring Robert if he's around too.”

“Oh. Um, sounds fun.” I was still watching Adam out of the corner of my eye. “But I can't go today. You guys have fun, though.”

Without waiting for a response, I picked up Muckle and hurried out of the ring. Adam glanced up when he heard me coming.

“Hey, Lauren,” he said. “What's up?”

“I, uh . . .” Now that I was here, facing my dream guy, my mind went blank. “Um, you know, I was thinking—that is . . .”

He blinked at me, looking confused. Muckle wiggled, barking at some of the other dogs going past on their way out.

I took a deep breath. “The private lesson thing? I don't want to wait,” I blurted out. “I mean, I was wondering—is it only for agility, or other stuff too? Because Muckle's still having trouble with housebreaking, and I was hoping maybe you could come by tomorrow and, you know—”

Okay, this wasn't coming out nearly as smoothly or flirtatiously as I'd imagined it. And I was so sure Robert wouldn't approve of my technique. I could feel my face going bright red.