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

Chapter 8

Ispend the rest of the weekend enjoying Stevie’s exuberance and ability to go from running around at full throttle to totally conking out under a chair and immediately falling asleep, snoring her wee head off.

I’m utterly charmed by her and I am one hundred percent convinced that spending half my life savings on her and going through that weird Penelope’s Pooches assessment process was completely worth it.

She’s not perfect of course, and we have had a couple of mishaps already. More than a couple. She got a hold of one of Lottie’s favourite shoes and punctured the leather around the heel to such an extent it now resembles a wonky sieve. And she has no idea that when I take her outside it’s not a game to gnaw on her lead and instead, she should be focussing on doing her doggie business so we can get in out of the cool London air.

But I know it’s all part and parcel of training a new puppy, and I for one am ecstatic to have the opportunity.

I arrive at work on Monday morning with her tucked under my arm. Although Scarlett knew that I might be getting Stevie, she has no clue that I’ve already got her. She’s going to be just as excited as I am when she sees her.

“You can’t mix Hollywood Glam with Country Chic and Industrial minimalism. It ends up looking like a total dog’s breakfast, I don’t care if you’re married to the country’s most exciting new football talent,” she’s saying into her phone as I slip past her to hang up my coat. She looks up briefly at me and waves before she adds, “Karina Designs? We’re not focussing on the fact they’ve moved in up the road right now. We’re just simply doing what we do best: catering to our clients’ needs and delivering amazing designs.”

I position myself in front of her with a sleeping Stevie in my arms. Thankfully, she ran herself ragged in the flat this morning, so by the time I got on the Tube, she was snoring softly and no one paid her much attention.

Scarlett eyes her in my arms. “Portia? I’ve got to go. Talk later. Ciao ciao ciao.” She hangs up. “Is that what I think it is?”

“She’s not a that. She’s Stevie, our new shop dog. I passed the test and got her on the weekend.”

She rises from her seat and comes over to get a closer look. She strokes her soft fur and Stevie stirs briefly before going back to sleep. “She’s adorable. Is she really yours?”

“Signed, sealed, and delivered.”

As though sensing she’s being discussed, Stevie yawns, and we can see her little pink tongue and row of tiny white, sharp teeth—which I’ve had sunk into my hands, my earlobes, and my ankles over the last forty-eight hours—before she opens her big brown eyes. She immediately looks from me to Scarlett and begins to wag her tail and starts wriggling in my arms.

“Stevie, this is Scarlett. She’s my business partner and co-owner of ScarZar, which is where you’re going to spend every single day from now on.”

“She is?”

“Of course.”

“But I thought you’d train her up first. Puppies are unpredictable.”

“Charming, you mean. It’ll be fine. She’s smart, she’ll cotton on fast, and people will absolutely love her. We’ll be known as the interiors shop with the adorable Jack Russell, just as we said. Karina will be so dull in comparison.”

“I know that’s the plan. Can I hold her?”

“Sure.” I hand her warm little body over and watch as Scarlett cradles her carefully in her arms as she squirms. “She’s a wriggly little thing, isn’t she?”

“She’s a puppy. It goes with the territory.”

“Oh, look. She’s stopped.”

Stevie goes limp in Scarlett’s arms, and immediately alarm bells tone in my head.

“Quick! Put her down.”

Scarlett nuzzles her. “Why? She’s so sweet and snuggly like this.”

“Because she’s peeing, that’s why!”

“What?” Scarlett pulls Stevie away from her and we both watch in horror as the last remnants of pee drip to the floor. She looks down at her silk shirt, which has a large wet patch, right in the middle, where the thin fabric is now clinging to her body. “Oh, my gosh. You have got to be joking me.” She thrusts Stevie into my hands and storms out to the back of the shop where I hear her pulling paper towels from the dispenser in the toilet.

“I’m so sorry,” I call out to her. “Stevie, we do that outside, okay? Outside.”

Stevie gazes at me with her big eyes, wagging her tail like I’m not telling her off for peeing on my business partner.

Scarlett storms back into the shop. “I’m literally covered in dog pee.”

I press my lips together as I look from her thunderous face to the wet patch on her shirt. It’s no good. A giggle builds up and before I know it, it squeaks out of me, making such an odd sound that Stevie instantly focuses her attention on me and begins to yap with glee. It’s infectious. A moment later, Scarlett’s face creases into a grin and a snort escapes from her nose. Soon enough, she’s also in fits of giggles, both of us clutching our sides as Stevie’s tail beats frantically against my arm.

We’re so busy laughing hard that we don’t notice the bell chime above the door until it’s too late and a customer is standing inside the shop, giving us a stern, questioning look.

I’m the first to get my giggles under control. “I’m sorry about that,” I say to an elderly woman in a completely black ensemble but for her thick, tan coloured pantyhose. I tuck Stevie under my arm. “How can I help you today?”

“Her shirt’s got an unsightly stain,” the woman says, gesturing at Scarlett.

“I’m just going to pop out to get that fixed,” Scarlett replies. She collects her handbag and waltzes past me towards the door. “Zara will look after you. You’re in good hands.”

I smile at the woman. “Sorry about that. What can I do for you?”

She eyes Stevie briefly before she looks back at me. “Are you going to keep holding that puppy?”

I glance down at my dog. She’s watching the woman closely, her little body trembling with excitement as though she’s saying I know this human wants to pat me. And she might have a ball! Or treats! Let me at her! I’m already fluent in Stevie.

“I’ll pop her out the back while you have a browse at all our lovely things. Back in a moment.” I rush out to the tiny back room that’s full of accessories, soft furnishings, and boxes, find an old fluffy cushion, and plonk Stevie down on it. Why didn’t I bring in her dog bed? The fluffy cushion will have to do for now.

“Stevie. Stay. Stay.” I raise my hand in the stop sign and shoot her a look that says I mean business. She gazes back up at me with her puppy dog eyes—literally—her tail wagging.

I crouch down beside her and stroke her back. “I’ve got to do my job, little girl. I’m sorry. I’ll get it all set up for you after. Promise.”

She lifts her ears and cocks her head to the side in the most heart-melting of looks and it takes all my will power not to scoop her back up in my arms. Instead, I repeat the stay command and back out of the room, closing the door firmly behind myself.

“Sorry about that,” I say to the woman as I breeze back into the shop. “What can I help you with?”

Fifteen minutes and a sale of a lamp and set of coasters later, Scarlett returns to the shop in a pretty turquoise blouse.

“Did you buy a new top?” I ask her.

“I had to. The other one was peed on. Remember?”

“Sorry about that. She’s only a pup. She’ll learn.”

“Did that lady want us to do any decorating?” she asks hopefully.

“Nope. She just bought a lamp.”

“Shame. Where’s Stevie?”

“She’s out the back. I made a little bed for her. Which reminds me. I need to pop out to get her a proper doggie bed for here as well as a pen for her to be in for the time being. Once she’s older we can let her wander around the shop.”

“Sure. I’ve got some calls to make. Hey, I forgot to tell you. George thinks you’re wonderful.”

“He said that?”

“We went to brunch yesterday down at that place by the river. He raved about you. Said he thought you were beautiful and smart and totally his type. Has he called you yet?”

A grin claims my face. “He did. He called the day after my party.”

“The day after your party? Wow, he didn’t mention that. He’s keen.”

“I know, right? We’re going out on Tuesday evening.”

“Zara, you sly dog. You didn’t mention that.”

“I was a little preoccupied with Stevie. But I am excited about it. He seems great.”

“Oh, he is. He and Harry are really tight. They do extreme sports together. You know, things like skydiving, and scuba diving.”

“All the divings, huh?” I grin. “He sounds like James Bond.”

“Only better, because he’s the real thing.”

There’s a muffled crash from out the back of the shop. We glance at one another in alarm.

“Uh-oh.” I dash trough the shop and pull the door open and gawk at the room.

The scene is not pretty.

It turns out placing a puppy on a fluffy pillow and expecting her to stay was not only wishful thinking, but utterly delusional. In the last fifteen minutes, she’s yanked the fluff out of the cushion and strewn it across the floor, knocked over a glass vase that’s in several pieces on the floor, and tugged on a bolt of material that’s now resting precariously against a wall. I quickly collect it and put it up on the shelf it came from.

How can one small puppy do so much damage?

“Stevie Huntington-Ross! What have you done?” I growl.

She looks up at me, wagging her tail furiously as though she hasn’t destroyed a vase, a cushion, and almost pulled a shelf down with a bolt of material.

I scoop her up in my arms. “Bad Stevie. Bad doggy.”

Scarlett arrives at the door. “What the…?”

“I’ll clean it up.”

“But that vase cost a fortune!”

With Stevie tucked under one arm I lean down and collect the broken bits of glass. “I’m sorry. I’ll come up with a better solution.”

“Like leaving her at home?”

“No. We agreed she’d be a shop dog. She’s going to be part of our style signature, remember?”

“Dog being the key word, Zara. She’s still a puppy. She can’t be trusted yet. You need to train her before she can come back.”

“But people love puppies.”

“Not ones that pee on your shirt, they don’t.”

It’s a good point. “I’ll pay for your new one.”

“Maybe you should schedule your mid-life crisis for after work and on weekends only. That way we can get on with our jobs without this happening.” She gestures at the mess.

“Again, it’s not a mid-life crisis. It’s a puppy,” I say levelly.

What is it with people thinking I’m having a mid-life crisis?

“She’s an out-of-control puppy, Zara.”

I force out a puff of air. “I’ll go out now and get a little pen for the shop. People can look at her and pat her, and she’ll be under control.”

“Maybe.”

I sense she’s softening, so I leap on it. “Come on, Scar. You know it makes sense.”

“We can’t afford to have any more incidents. We’ve already got our backs to the wall with losing half our business in the last few months.”

I grin at her. “You’re the best. I’ll pop into Penelope’s on my way back from Asher’s later today. I’ve got to show him what I’ve designed for him and measure up.”

“How is your future husband?”

“Not a mid-life crisis, and not my future husband.”

She waggles her eyebrows at me. “Maybe that position might be taken by a certain George Honeydew?”

“It’s a little too early to go planning a wedding, don’t you think?” I say, feeling coy.

“Babe, George is a great guy and he’s from one of Berkshire’s richest families. You could do a lot worse.”

“Let’s see how our first date goes, shall we?”

“I’ve got a feeling about you two.”

I grin at her, excitement building inside of me. I’ve got a feeling about us, too.