Worst Wingman Ever (The Improbable Meet-Cute, #2)(9)

“It’s okay,” she said, crouching. “If I get dirty, I get dirty. I don’t really care today.”

I looped a finger in his collar to keep him from pummeling her anyway. He wiggled and cried, and she scratched under his chin. “What’s his name?”

“Doobie.”

She smiled up at me. “That’s a good name. A good name for a good boy.”

I watched her play with him for a minute. She had on a jade bracelet.

I cleared my throat. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

She talked to me but looked at him. “I don’t live here. I’m just visiting family.”

“Oh. Me too.”

“What kind of dog is he?” she asked.

“I think he’s a Lab mix. I’m not really sure; I rescued him.”

She pivoted to look at me. “Oh. My sister volunteers at a few rescues. Which one?”

“None, I found him. He was abandoned in an empty apartment.”

“Oh my God.” She looked at him with pity. “And you kept him?”

“I did. Not my job to question the dog distribution system.”

She laughed. Then she noticed my arm. “What happened there?”

I twisted my elbow to look at the welt. “Occupational hazard. I was knocking down a hornet’s nest at work. One of them got me.”

“Ouch.”

“Better me than a little old lady.”

She smiled. Then she sat back on her heels and dug in the small purse she had on. “Here. It’s prescription cortisone.”

Doobie was calmer now, so I let go of his collar to take it. The second I wasn’t holding him up, he rolled onto his back so she could rub his belly.

She looked down at him with hearts in her eyes. “He’s so sweet,” she said.

I put a pea-size amount on the sting. “Do you have any pets?”

She shook her head. “No. It’s hard when you live alone.”

“I live alone too. But I work where I live, so I can check on him.” I handed the tube back to her.

“Keep it. In case you need to save any more old ladies.”

“Ha. Thanks.” I slipped it into my pocket.

“It’s pretty swollen,” she said.

I pressed on the walnut-size welt. “It hurts too. It’s hard as hell.”

“It’s actually hard as hail,” she said. “Did you know that? I just learned that today.”

“Is it? I guess it makes sense. Did you know that when someone says ‘Break a leg’ to an actor, it’s because they’re hoping they end up in a cast?”

Her mouth dropped open. “Is that true?”

I was smiling. “I don’t know. I would definitely fact-check me.”

She looked amused at my joke.

“Did you know that the first episode of a show is called a pilot because it’s the first time it’s on the air?” she asked.

“Really,” I deadpanned.

“Really. But I would definitely fact-check me too.”

I laughed and it made her laugh. We shared this small moment, and we held each other’s gaze for a split second. Then she looked away from me and stood up. “Thanks for letting me play with him. It’s been a rough day. I needed it.” She slipped her sandals on.

“Yeah.”

She stood there for a beat. “Have a good night.” Then she turned and started walking back to the building.

Somebody told me once that it only takes a few minutes to know if you like someone. That our initial impression is usually the right one. I liked her. I had the strongest urge to call after her and ask her name, ask for her number, ask her to coffee. I almost did it. I was so close.

Then I realized how I looked.

I was in work clothes. I had paint on my jeans, my steel-toe boots were scuffed. My beard was grown out, I needed a haircut.

I hadn’t given two shits about my appearance since Brenda. What was the point? Who did I have to impress? I wasn’t dating, I wasn’t even looking. But suddenly I cared how I looked. I cared a lot.

I cared enough that it stopped me from stopping her.

So I just let her go. I watched the door close behind her, and the moment was gone.

I beat myself up about it the whole way back up to Frank’s.

When I got there, Andrea was still sitting at the counter.

Andrea was a hairstylist. She did Frank’s hair, and she did a good job.

“Hey, when do you work next?” I asked. “I was thinking about getting a haircut.”

“Yeesssssss!”

I knew instantly that I’d made a mistake. She was way too excited.

“I’ve been wanting to get my hands on your head for months!” She bounced. “This is going to be the most epic ‘before’ and ‘after’ ever.”

“I just want a haircut, Andrea, nothing big.”

“Oh, we’re going big. We’re hitting brows, beard, skin care—I’m about to transition you out of your caveman era. Frank, he’s finally letting me do it!”

“The end of caveman era?” my brother called from the other room.

I rolled my eyes. “You’ve talked about this?”

Andrea nodded, wide-eyed. “Definitely. Many times.”