Puppy Love (12 page)

“Oh.” Jamal hesitated. “Uh, okay. See you both tomorrow in class, I guess.”

“Yeah.” I gave him a quick wave as he turned to leave. Muckle seemed disappointed to part with Ozzy, but soon comforted himself by sniffing noses with one of the border collies. “Look,” I told Adam. “He must know they're both herding breeds, right?”

“Maybe.” Adam sounded a little dubious, but he was still smiling. Was he glad I'd stayed?

“So what are you and your dogs going to do today?” I asked. “Are you going to practice agility? Maybe I can watch—you know, figure out if I want to try it with Muckle. If that's okay.”

“Sure, sounds good.” Adam nodded agreeably. “Let's go, then.”

I fell into step beside him. For once Muckle was behaving pretty well. He kept veering over toward Adam's dogs, wagging his tail and sniffing in their direction. But they mostly ignored him.

“Your dogs are really beautiful,” I said, glancing at the
border collies. Both of them had glossy black-and-white fur a little shorter and sleeker than Muckle's. One had perfect tuxedo markings, with a white blaze down her face and four white paws. The other had funkier markings, with a mostly white head and one f loppy black ear.

“Thanks.” Adam smiled. “They're my babies. I've raised all three of them from puppies—Shasta and Lark come from solid working lines with plenty of instinct. . . .”

He kept talking about the dogs' breeding for the rest of the walk to the agility area. I didn't pay much attention to the details, mostly just enjoying the feeling of letting that musical accent wash over me.

When we reached the pen, both of the dog owners from earlier were gone. Instead a stout older man was guiding a lively boxer over some jumps. “Hi,” Adam called to the man as he let himself and his dogs in, holding the gate for me and Muckle. “Mind if we join you?”

“Go ahead,” the man called back. “We're just about finished.”

“Thanks.” Adam whistled, and all three of his dogs snapped around to gaze at him alertly. Even Muckle stared at Adam with interest.

“What does the whistle mean?” I asked.

“It's just a signal to pay attention,” he said. “They know when they hear it, they're supposed to look to me for further instructions.”

“Cool.” I stood back and watched Adam put his dogs through
their paces. They demonstrated each piece of equipment, and in between commands Adam explained what they were doing. I barely noticed when the older man left the ring, except that Muckle stopped pulling on the leash trying to go over to say hi to the boxer.

At the end of the demonstration, Adam called two of the dogs to him and commanded them to jump up on the large, flat wooden table at one end of the course. He'd already told me it was called a “pause table,” though the first time he'd said it, I'd thought he was saying “paws table,” which had made him laugh.

“Down,” he told the dogs, making a gesture with his hand. I recognized it—it was the same hand signal he'd started teaching us to use with our own puppies.

The tuxedo-marked border collie, whose named I'd deduced was Lark, instantly sank into a down position. The terrier, whose name was Jinx, sank slowly into a sit first, eyes trained on Adam. After spending time with Ozzy, I was starting to recognize that terriers' minds seemed to work a little differently from those of other dogs. I could almost see Jinx wondering if he really had to lie down.

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

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.