Never Fall for Your Back-Up Guy by Kate O’Keeffe

Chapter 13

Asher and I enter the room at the back of a vet clinic that’s hosting puppy training school with Stevie straining on the lead to get inside. Somehow, despite our massive weight differential, this little canine powerhouse is managing to pull me along, virtually yanking my arm out of its socket.

“She’s excited,” Asher observes.

“You could say that,” I reply with a laugh as Asher pulls the door open for me and we charge inside. “Stevie!” I say as I tug on her lead.

I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He flashes me his Asher grin, and I rearrange my mouth into what I’m hoping is a breezy smile.

He crinkles his forehead. “You okay, Zee?” he questions.

Well, that’s clearly a smile fail.

“I’m fine. Just nervous about puppy school, I suppose.”

“It’s Stevie who should be nervous,” he replies, and we both look down at my dog. She’s pulling on her lead so hard that she’s choking herself, her front paws completely elevated off the floor as she strains to get to the other dogs in the room.

“True,” I reply with a forced laugh.

I’m trying my best to be as normal as possible around Asher tonight. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in the flesh since I unearthed that whole marriage bombshell a few days ago, and I’m finding it virtually impossible not to hear wedding bells and picture the happy bride from that photo careening down the aisle towards him every time I look his way.

I need to get a grip.

The room is lined with a bunch of humans with their puppies, ranging in size from a teeny tiny chihuahua in a pink tutu—an interesting choice of outfit for puppy school, but who am I to judge?—to a St. Bernard puppy whose paws are almost bigger than its head. Each of the dogs is on a lead, and all but a couple are yapping and bouncing and straining at their leads to get to one another.

“At least Stevie’s not the only excited one,” Asher says under his breath.

“All right?” says a woman with a square face and a body to match, wearing a pair of taupe dungarees and a hot pink utility belt around her waist. She smiles down at Stevie. “Who’ve we got ‘ere then, eh?”

“This is Stevie Huntington-Ross,” I say as Stevie notices her for the first time and takes a flying leap at her leg.

The woman raises her knee a few inches off the floor and Stevie slaps into her shin, falling onto her back before she immediately repeats the manoeuvre. “She’s a feisty one. Isn’t she?” she says, looking up at me for the first time.

“She sure is. I’m Zara, Stevie’s mum. And this is Asher.”

Asher raises his hand in greeting and the woman says hello.

“I’m Dog Diva Denise and I’ll be training you this evening. Find a spo’ over by the wall, and strictly no socialising.”

“We can’t talk to the other owners?” I question.

She looks at me as though I’ve asked a totally dumb question. “I meant for the dog?”

“Oh, right. Got it. No dog socialising.”

She raises her brows at me. “Go on. Off you go,” she instructs, and she says it in such a way that we immediately do as she says.

“Dog Diva Denise?” Asher questions under his breath with a wry smile, as we find a spot between a darling King Charles and a cute little caramel coloured Spoodle.

“Shhh. She might hear you,” I reply through gritted teeth. “I don’t want to get in any trouble.”

“What can she do? Tell you you’re a bad doggie and not give you any treats?”

I snort laugh. “Something like that.”

Stevie strains on her lead to get at the King Charles, and I smile at the owner as if to say puppies these days.

“Hey, did you get what you needed for the new closet the other day?” Asher asks me as we stand waiting for Dog Diva Denise to begin the session. “You hadn’t mentioned anything.”

“Yeah, I did, thanks. All measured up.” I concentrate on staring at a dog scratching its ear on the other side of the room. I got the measurements and a bombshell of information about your past, buddy. Of course I don’t mention it. I mean, I’m not exactly going to blurt out that I know he’s married. Or was married. Or has a wife hidden in an attic somewhere, Rochester-style. Argh! Whatever. It’s all so disconcerting, and I’m still struggling to process it.

He regards me out of the corner of his eye once more. “You seem weird tonight.”

I glance up at him. He’s got a quizzical expression on his face. “I’m fine,” I reply with a shrug.

“Look. I know you don’t want to be here, and I know you think you know everything about dogs, but you’re doing the right thing.”

My face breaks into a relieved smile. He thinks I’m being weird over the puppy training. I play into it. It’s a whole lot easier than dealing what I’m really feeling weird about. “I know about dogs. Stevie’s just young, that’s all.”

“All I’m saying is I think it’s great you’re doing this.”

I lift my eyes to his once more. We lock gazes, and my chest tightens. “Okay. Sure. Great.”

He opens his mouth to say something, when Dog Diva Denise—I still can’t believe she actually calls herself that—thankfully interrupts.

“Let’s get star’ed then, shall we? I’m Dog Diva Denise and I freely admit I’m a dog lover.”

“That should be illegal,” Asher whispers in my ear and I nudge him with my elbow.

“I suspect most of you lot in this room are dog lovers too, which is why you’re ‘ere with your little fluff balls of love tonight. Am I right?”

There’s a wave of agreement within the room.

Dog Diva Denise raises her hand to silence us, and we all do exactly that.

This woman is goooood.

“You,” she says, looking directly at me.

“Yes?”

“What’s wrong with what I just said?”

I look uncertainly around the room. Everyone is watching, even some of the puppies—although I could be being paranoid about them. “I’m…ah, not sure.”

“Anyone else?” she questions, scanning the room.

No one ventures a reply.

“Allow me to educate you all. The only problem with what I said is these puppies you’ve brought ‘ere tonight are not little fluff balls of love.” She pauses for dramatic effect before she adds in a deeper, more serious voice, “They’re dogs.”

“This woman is insightful,” Asher mutters under his breath and I stifle a giggle.

Dog Diva Denise begins to pace the room, fixing each person with her beady-eyed stare. “And dogs need to be trained. Don’t they?”

“Err, yes, they do,” a guy with a beagle replies when she comes to a stop in front of him.

“Trained good and proper. Am I right?” she asks a young woman, who looks thoroughly terrified.

“Yes,” she squeaks.

“Little fluff balls of love don’t need training. Oh, no. Little fluff balls of love can sit there and look all fluffy and whatnot until their wee hearts’ content.” She comes to a stop, her hands on her hips as she glares at us all. “Tonight, we begin. Tonight, we take these puppies and we mould them into the dogs of tomorrow. Tonight, we make history.”

Wow. Just wow.

“Dog Diva Denise is a big old drama queen,” I say to Asher.

“I’m scared of her,” he jokes.

“You!” She zeroes in on Asher and me. “Did you have something you wan’ed to share with the rest of the class?”

It’s like being back in high school.

“No. I’m good, thanks,” Asher replies nonchalantly. “Great speech, though. Super moving.”

Dog Diva Denise’s hardened features dissolve into a smile. “Thank you,” she replies, all breathy and fluttery. “That’s nice of you to say.”

I roll my eyes. Freakin’ Asher and his power over women. The moment he chooses to turn it on, they seem to fall at his feet in a frenzy of hormones. It must be something to do with the fact he’s American. All smooth and confident and…foreign. Or something.

I flick my gaze to him. He’s got a sexy smile on his face, and I’ll admit, the way he’s dressed tonight in a pair of jeans and a plain white T-shirt that hints at his athletic torso and broad shoulders beneath isn’t hurting him, either.

Yeah, okay, he’s handsome. Far too handsome for his own good, if you ask me.

But he’s still secretly married. Or divorced. Or something.

I blow out a frustrated puff of air. I need to push that new gem of knowledge firmly from my mind. It’s weighing on me and it could come between us.

And that’s the last thing I want.

Dog Diva Denise manages to pull her gaze from Asher long enough to start the class in earnest, and before long we’re all walking our dogs across the room—with varying degrees of success.

“The goal, people, is to walk your dog with a loose lead. A loose lead.”

I tug on Stevie’s extremely taut lead as she strains to get to the St. Bernard I’ve learned is called Derek. “Stevie, heel,” I say in an assertive voice.

She ignores me completely.

“He’s too big for you,” I tell her as I give her lead another gentle yank. “You’d need a crane to get close to that one.”

“I see you’re talking to your dog as though she were a human,” Dog Diva Denise says as she sidles up next to me. “Another mistake, everyone,” she announces to the room. “Dogs are dogs. Treat them as dogs.”

I offer her a weak smile. “Got it,” I say.

We move onto sitting and staying and some of the puppies seem to catch on pretty fast. Not Stevie. She’s too busy straining at the lead to get anywhere but by me, and I spend my entire time saying, “Stevie, no. No, Stevie.”

“Have you tried using a deeper voice?” Asher offers “Who knows? It might help.”

“Sit, Stevie,” I say in as low a voice as I can manage, but all she does is peer up at me as though I’ve been possessed and then continues to scramble around, pulling on the lead.

“You know what you sound like, Zee?” he asks me. “You sound like Anna Farris in that movie The House Bunny.”

I shoot him a sharp look. “You’ve watched The House Bunny?”

He shrugs. “Yeah. Years ago, with a girlfriend, I think.”

Or a wife.

With my attention momentarily on something other than my insane dog, Stevie seizes the opportunity to yank hard on the lead and it pops right out of my hand. She screams across the room, her little legs splaying in all directions. She reaches one dog and pushes her face right in theirs, then takes off and trips up, doing some sort of canine interpretation of a ninja roll across the hard, shiny floor, until she reaches another dog. She begins to leap excitedly in its face. The dog responds by bouncing around just as eagerly, and much like my little escape artist, manages to worm its way free from its lead and the two of them careen around the room, eliciting excited yaps and barks from all the assembled puppies.

“It’s a puppy mutiny,” Asher declares as I dash past him, chasing Stevie and her accomplice as they wreak havoc.

“I’m so sorry,” I say to the room as I lean down to swoop Stevie up in my arms. But it’s like she’s shape shifted into a slippery eel, slithering expertly through my fingers and taking off in the other direction.

“Never chase a dog!” Dog Diva Denise barks, which is ironic, because we’re in a roomful of barking dogs.

By now, all the puppies in the room are going insane with excitement, wrapping their leads around their owner’s legs, trying desperately to break free to join in the fun with Stevie and her new friend.

“What am I meant to do?” I ask Dog Diva Denise in exasperation as Stevie and the King Charles—whose name is clearly Pepper, thanks to the number of times her owner has yelled the name in the last minute—roll around the floor together, nipping and growling and yapping and generally acting like the out of control puppies they are.

In one fell swoop, Dog Diva Denise separates the dogs, picks them up, slots one under each arm and yells, “Stop!” in such a way that everyone in the room, be them human or canine, stops and stares at her as silence falls.

“If your dog is on a lead, tighten it now.” She points at me and says, “You. Hand me the lead.”

I don’t quibble. I hand it over pronto.

“Go and stand over there with your boyfriend.”

“Oh, he’s not—” I begin, but think better of it when Dog Diva Denise’s face turns from thunderous to outright cyclone. “I’ll move.” I slink over to Asher with my head bowed.

“That was spectacular,” he says to me as I lean up against the wall next to him.

I glare at him in response. “Don’t say another word.”

“I’m not sure what else there is to say, Zee.” His lips twitch in that teasing way I know all too well.

“We don’t want a repeat of that little fiasco, now do we?” Dog Diva Denise says as she holds onto Stevie’s lead, which is now clipped onto her collar.

I watch in dismay as Stevie sniffs around her feet and promptly drops down and does a pee, right in front of everyone.

“Nice work Stevie,” Asher says quietly to me. “You must be super proud.”

I snort with laughter, and immediately cover it up with a cough when Dog Diva Denise shoots me an accusatory stare.

Without even mentioning Stevie’s little deposit, she moves away from the patch of yellow on the floor and begins to give her instructions. I watch in astonishment as Stevie does everything she tells her, her gaze firmly set on Dog Diva Denise, her little tail swooshing from side to side.

“That little blighter,” I mutter through a tight jaw.

At the end of the class, Dog Diva Denise hands Stevie’s lead back to me, and Stevie sits down at my feet and gazes up at me as though waiting for further instruction.

“How did you do that?” I ask her in astonishment. One minute she’s roaring around here like her pants are on fire—you know, if dogs wore pants—and the next she’s the world’s most obedient and well-behaved puppy.

“It’s all a matter showing her who’s boss,” she replies. “Which is clearly something you’ve been struggling with.” She shoots me a meaningful look.

“I thought it was an incredibly impressive display on your behalf, Dog Diva Denise,” Asher says as he wraps his arm around my shoulders. “My girlfriend and I have clearly got a lot to learn.”

I slide my questioning eyes up to Asher’s.

He flicks me a quick smile before he says, “I guess we’ll be back next week.”

“With the right leadership, your puppy will grow up to be a fine dog,” Dog Diva Denise replies, trying to sound assertive while her cheeks turn pink under Asher’s gaze.

“Oh, I’m sure she will. Thank you, Dog Diva Denise,” Asher says.

“Oh, call me Denise,” she replies, her blush turning Santa-suit-red.

“See you next week. And…sorry for you know,” I say.

“Do better next time,” she sniffs at me before she flashes a smile at Asher.

With Stevie prancing like a prize pup in a dog show, we leave the room and make our way out onto the street.

“What the heck was that about, Stevie? Why did you do everything she told you to do and absolutely nothing I told you to do?”

Stevie sits and looks up at me, concentrating hard on what I’m saying.

“Stevie, up,” Asher instructs and she immediately rises to her feet. “Sit.” She sits.

“It’s a doggie miracle,” I say as I watch in wonderment. “Come on, Stevie, heel,” I say as I begin to walk down the street and she trots beside me as if she’s been following my lead all her life. Which we all know she hasn’t.

“Is this the point where I say, ‘I told you so?’ Or should we wait until we’re having a drink at the pub down the road first?” Asher asks.

The thought of sitting with Asher in a pub without the distraction of the puppy class makes me feel uneasy. It’s just him and me, nothing to pull our attention.

That photo of him and his bride weights heavily in my mind.

“I’d better get home. I’m sure Stevie’s pretty knackered, and I’ve got an early start in the morning.”

“Zara, you open your shop at 10am. That’s only early to rock stars.”

“I’ve got some other work I need to do for a client, actually.” I neglect to tell him he’s the client. Details.

“Okay, well let’s call it a night. Great work, Stevie. You may have embarrassed your mom, but you got it together in the end. Good work.” He gives Stevie a couple of firm pats then leans in and plants a kiss on my cheek. “See ya, girlfriend.” He pauses and adds, “That’s a demotion from ‘wifey,’ you know.”

I let out a nervous laugh, and it sounds more than a little hyena-like. He shoots me a quizzical look, but before he gets the chance to comment, I turn on my heel and call out,

“See you later,” as I dash down the street.

What am I going to do about this? We’ve got this bride-shaped wedge between us now, and things feel weird. Wrong.

And I’m not sure how to get past it.