Million Dollar Date

by Susan Hatler

  I sprang into action.

  “Shoot, was this my fault?” I asked, using as innocent a voice as possible. I pushed through the dogs and grabbed Banana from Cooper. He wiggled to be set down to play with the others. “Did I leave the door open?”

  “What do we do?” he asked right before Hank—a massive teddy bear of a dog—pressed Cooper against the passenger side door with his front paws splayed across Cooper’s white shirt and (muscular) chest.

  That was going to leave a stain, no doubt about it.

  I tried to hold back my laughter, but the wiry terrier on the roof of my car was rooting his nose into Cooper’s hair and it was making playing my role very difficult. “We should try to get them back into the barn or—”

  “Hey, dogs, get on back in here!”

  I turned to see Reagan coming out of the barn and putting her fingers to her mouth and whistling high and loud. The dogs ran to her immediately, all except the terrier who needed one last sniff of Cooper’s hair before finally hopping off my hood and joining the others. Cooper sagged against the passenger side door and raked a hand through his hair.

  “Sorry about that, folks,” Reagan called, walking over toward us. We had gone back and forth about it over the phone the night before, but I’d finally managed to convince her that it would be better if we pretended not to know each other.

  “Hi, I’m Reagan Carlton,” she said, extending her hand to Cooper.

  “Cooper Hill,” he said, wiping the dog slobber onto his shorts before shaking her hand.

  “I’m Abigail Apple,” I said, wincing at the tiny lie.

  She nodded and stuffed her hands into her pockets. “Are you looking into adoption or interested in volunteering?”

  I glanced over at Cooper. “Oh, um, we were actually—”

  “Today has been insane,” Reagan interrupted, just as we had practiced. “I had some volunteers cancel last minute so it’s just me here. The dogs are filthy and I need to run into town for some more food. Sorry, I don’t mean to ramble, but I’m so overwhelmed right now.”

  Her performance was a little stilted and forced. She certainly wasn’t going to be winning any Academy Awards, but hopefully it would do the trick.

  I shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, trying to look sheepish. “Well, actually, we kind of just pulled in to ask for some directions. We’re on our way to the local vineyard and we’re already pretty late and—”

  “We could help out for a bit though,” Cooper suggested, putting a hand on my arm.

  “Huh?” I turned to Cooper, who moved closer to me. My skin warmed under the weight of his hand on my arm. “You don’t mind volunteering here?”

  “Fine by me if it’s okay with you, Abigail?” he said, giving me a pointed look. “I know you were excited about taking me to the vineyard.”

  “Hmm . . .” I tapped my chin, pretending to mull it over.

  He placed his hand at the small of my back and looked into my eyes. I froze for a moment. His eyes were so blue and kind looking that I felt unable to move.

  “Um, no, I mean, yeah,” I said, clearing my throat. “Sure, we can help out for a bit.”

  Cooper smiled at Reagan. “We’re in. What would you like us to do?”

  ****

  Now that Big Hank had been brushed and shampooed and rinsed, he rolled over onto his back in front of Cooper, who rubbed his belly with one hand. Another dog trotted over and sat next to Cooper, who began scratching the dog’s ear.

  I melted a little at how sweet Cooper was. Okay, maybe I melted a lot.

  Banana curled up next to two of the puppies and his paws served as some sort of blanket for the tuckered out pair. I sat across from Cooper. Both of us were filthy and covered in wet dog hair, but it didn’t matter. In the cool barn, the shadows stretched longer and longer and time seemed completely and utterly nonexistent. My kind of a day.

  I twisted my lips to one side, grabbed a piece of hay, and crossed my legs—accidentally nudging one of the paws belonging to the sleeping terrier next to me. He kicked his legs, surely running after a rabbit in his dreams.

  “I have something to confess,” I said.

  “Finally admitting you deserved that speeding ticket?” Cooper gave me a wink that made me weak in the knees and I wasn’t even standing.

  I bit my lip. “Maybe I have two things to confess.”

  He smiled. “Go on then.”

  I tilted my head and gazed into those blue eyes that lit up with kindness. Man, I was such a female Pinocchio. If my nose started growing, I could only blame myself.

  “Remember how I got lost this afternoon in the car on the way to the vineyard? Well, it may have been just a little bit intentional.”

  He chuckled. “I have something to confess, too.”

  “You do?” I saw Cooper stop rubbing Big Hank’s belly, so the dog wiggled closer to Cooper as if to say hint, hint. Once Cooper started the belly scratching again, the dog’s tongue lolled out of his mouth. “What could you confess? You don’t like wine?”

  He closed an eye, glancing across the dim, dusty air between us. “I knew you were getting lost on purpose.”

  I gawked at him. “You did not.”

  “Afraid so.” He nodded, seeming to get a kick out of my embarrassment. “Even if I wasn’t a trained professional at interrogation, which I am, you’re not exactly sly.”

  My cheeks heated. Oh, the humiliation. And here I’d thought I excelled at sneakiness.

  “Why didn’t you rat me out?” I asked, trying to decide if that would’ve been more or less embarrassing. Tough call.

  “Your motivation seemed well intentioned.” He shrugged, giving Big Hank one final rub before wiping his hand on his shorts. “Reagan is doing great work here. I can see why you’re eager to have the committee support the shelter.”

  “Really?” I looked up at him and he smiled. “Reagan needs a huge donation in a bad way. She’s renting this place and the landlord is selling. The buyer could refuse to rent the place any longer or could raise the rent so high she can’t afford it anymore. It kills me that these sweet dogs might be sent away to who knows where.”

  He nodded. “I get where you’re coming from. But why not just tell me the truth?”

  “For real?” I asked, surprised he’d even ask. “Maybe because you’d never vote for this charity if you knew I’m involved with it?”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Why would you think that?”

  No sense in mincing words. “Because you don’t like me.”

  “Is that what you think?” He started to scoot closer to me, but Big Hank protested with a whine. He gave me a look that said, I tried. “Abigail, I know our first date had a few . . . speed bumps.”

  “You had to use the word speed, didn’t you?” I asked, shaking my head.

  “Sorry.” He raised his palms. “I know the date wasn’t perfect and we’ve bonked heads a little bit—”

  “A little bit?” I asked, incredulously.

  He put a finger to my lips. “But I don’t not like you, Abigail.”

  “Gee, what a compliment,” I said, my lips moving under his finger. “Should I swoon now or later?”

  “That’s not what I meant to say.” He reached for my hand and held it. “I feel . . . drawn to you. I don’t know how else to describe it.”

  My eyes bulged. “Really?”

  “You drive crazy,” he said, his voice low and soft. “But you’re also spunky and fun and you have a big heart. It’s clear you care deeply about these dogs. You see things full of life, in ways I never do. And, well, like I said. . . I don’t not like you.”

  I smiled and bit my lip. “I don’t not like you, too. Or is it either?”

  His blue eyes locked on mine and for the first time in my life I wished I wasn’t in a room full of napping puppies. Even so, there was no doubt as we looked into each other’s eyes that there was a connection. A spark there.

  The sound of tires crunching across the gravel filled the air as Reagan ret
urned from her ‘emergency run’ into town to get food. When she came over, I had to tell her the jig was up. I even told Cooper she had stored food in the silo that could last for months. Reagan blushed, but I bailed her out by admitting the scheme had been my idea.

  As Cooper and I walked toward my car with Banana running at our feet, I noticed that Cooper’s always-perfectly-combed hair was messy. It suited him. Before I could chicken out, I reached up and pushed the hair that had fallen across his brow back into place. He surprised me by smiling and then messing it back up without a word.

  Today was a perfect day. An absolutely perfect day. The birds were chirping, the sky was blue, the wind warm and gentle. Right now, I expected a rainbow to pop up despite there being no rain or even a rain cloud in the sky. It was all just that perfect.

  “So, you’ll be voting for Reagan’s dog rescue for the charity drive then?” I asked, as we stood outside my car, ready to take the country road back downtown.

  There was a pause and I glanced over at Cooper who avoided my gaze.

  “Actually, no.”

  My mouth dropped open and my heart sank at those two words.

  Worst. Day. Of. My. Life.

  Chapter Four

  On Monday morning, I dove into the deepest, darkest, scariest corner of my closet, scouring it until I finally found what I was looking for: my power suit. When I dropped out of law school, I swore I’d never put this suit back on, but desperate times called for desperate measures. And these were the most desperate of times.

  Cooper told me he was planning on voting for Founding Friendships, a homeless outreach program in Sacramento, and not Reagan’s Rescue at the Barn. Even after a magical afternoon of playing with the dogs in the sun, he was still intent on robbing them of a safe, nice home.

  I thought puppy kisses would be my secret weapon. No dice. I’d returned home Saturday evening feeling distraught. I’d played my top card and it hadn’t been enough. I’d failed the puppies. But then I realized I’d used the best devices that would work on someone like me. But I wasn’t trying to convince myself to vote for the dog rescue. I mean, hello? I’d hand over a ton of dough if I had it. No, the person I needed to convince was Officer Cooper Hill.

  So, I needed to speak his language.

  Robot language.

  And it just so happened that I was fluent.

  Staying up way too late last night, I toiled with a software program to put together my upcoming presentation. I created slide after slide, constructed pie chart after pie chart, and calculated cost benefit analysis after cost benefit analysis until my fingers bled (not really, but I would’ve kept going until they did if I had to).

  I finished the slide show at 3:43 a.m.

  The rest of the night (or, uh, morning hours) I spent practicing my presentation, rubbing polish on my black heels from college, and testing which of my friend Hannah’s prescription-less glasses made me look the most authoritative. And at 7:47 a.m., I tied a makeshift tie around Banana’s neck and left my apartment with zero sleep and a conviction that this plan would definitely work. I didn’t consider that perhaps the two were correlated.

  Trying not to fidget in my itchy, slim-fitting, power suit from my Abigail Adams days—that I could now see was in desperate need of some color or fringe—I marched down the sidewalk and straight onto the front steps of the Sacramento Police Station.

  “Abigail Apple, where are you off to in such a hurry this early in the morning?” Courtney Carmichael called from her coffee cart just down the sidewalk.

  Courtney Carmichael owned the coffee cart with the cinnamon-dolce lattes I indulged in often. We had law school in common since she was an ex-attorney who burned out after working twenty-four seven for two decades with only material possessions to show for all of her efforts. Her husband divorced her from lack of attention and she realized she’d wasted all that time working when relationships were more important. Now, she always wears sparkly fun tops as a reminder that there is more to life than work.

  The coffee cart is Courtney’s ‘do-over’ in life and I admired her for that brave choice.

  “Good morning, Courtney! I’m off to defend justice and stand up for those who cannot stand up for themselves. I plan to triumph for everything that is good and pure in this world.”

  I climbed the first couple of steps, my eyes set on the front doors of the station.

  “But you haven’t heard my next name suggestion yet,” Courtney called after me.

  A couple of weeks ago, Courtney had started the name game. She’d chosen career over kids and was now pondering what she could’ve named a kid if she’d taken the time to have one. I figured it was some form of therapy for her so I was usually happy to play.

  “Sorry, can’t today, Courtney.” I waved a hand. “Justice waits for no one.”

  “I’ll give you a free latte.”

  My newly polished heel stopped mid-air above the next step and I tapped my finger against the briefcase, which held my laptop with my presentation. I supposed Justice could wait for a free latte. As manager of a pet store, I was on a tight budget, after all.

  Turning on my heel, I hurried back down to Courtney’s coffee cart. This morning she sported a bright orange shirt with sequins around the collar and front pocket. She smiled as she steamed the milk and then gestured to me. “I’ve got the right name this time, Abigail.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  She took two stir sticks and did a makeshift drumroll. “Catherine Carina Carmichael.”

  I winced as she handed over the latte. Then I slipped a couple of bucks into her tip jar. “A girl named Catherine snatched my prom date away from me senior year. It’s a lovely name, but I can’t in good conscience give it my stamp of approval.”

  “I’ll keep at it then.” Courtney jerked her chin up at the police station. “What are you up to in there? No trouble, I hope.”

  “Oh, no,” I answered, sipping the sweet nectar called caffeine. “I’m on a quest to convince Officer Hill to vote for Reagan’s Rescue at the Barn. He’s in charge of a super big donation and her rescue needs it pronto.”

  “Ah, yes. He’s heading the committee.” Courtney nodded, which didn’t surprise me. She knew all of the comings and goings in Sacramento. “Cooper Hill is pretty involved with the homeless charity, Founding Friendships, though, isn’t he?”

  “Is there anything going on in Sac that you don’t know?” I grinned and tapped my laptop case. “But he’s not going to be all about Founding Friendships for long if I have anything to say about it. Other charities need help, too. And I have a lot to say about the dog rescue to convince him it should be his top priority today. Trust me.”

  Before Courtney could argue with my brilliant plan I thanked her for the latte, bid her goodbye and hurried toward the stairs. Taking a deep, steadying breath, I marched straight up the steps and pushed open both doors for my grand entrance to the station. One of the doors stuck, but my enthusiastic forward motion made my forehead slam into the door. Forehead, pain, ouch. Not the grand entrance I’d envisioned.

  “How can I help you, miss?” the attendant at the front desk asked, giving me a look that said he thought I was a whack-job.

  I straightened, recovering from that slight embarrassment. “I need an empty conference room and Officer Hill pronto,” I said, giving him a smile. “Your help is appreciated by me, a barn full of dogs and the world at large. Thanks.”

  ****

  A few minutes later, the attendant showed me to a conference room where I set up my laptop, with the door cracked open behind me. I turned to see Cooper poke his head inside, looking around until his gaze caught mine from where I stood by the projector screen.

  “Abigail, what are you doing he—”

  “Officer Hill, come in.” I waved both of my hands toward me several times in the gesture meaning get-in-here-and-watch-my-brilliant-presentation. “Thank you so much for taking the time out of your very busy workday to meet with me. You do a lot for our community,
so I took the liberty of bringing you a latte as a token of my appreciation.”

  Hey, a little bribery never hurt anyone.

  I’d only taken one sip and I’d wiped off the lipstick stain, so don’t judge me.

  Oh, wait. . . Had I wiped off my lipstick smear?

  “Abigail, I don’t know what this is all ab—”

  “Please, just come all the way in,” I said, grabbing him by the arm—which was quite muscular in a very distracting way—and rather forcibly dragging him to the chair I’d set up in the front row of the conference room. “Have a seat.”

  He stumbled back and fell into the chair under my direction. Okay, I had to admit he’d let me pull him. The guy was a fit officer, after all. A huge criminal wouldn’t stand a chance against him let alone little five-foot four me. Oh, the hero factor. Shiver.

  He squinted at the screen and read the title of my presentation, “An Analytical Argument for the Selection of Rescue at the Barn as the Sacramento Charity Committee’s Winner of the Annual Charity Drive Donation: Why Rescue at the Barn Makes the Most Sense for the City, the People of the City, and Humanity at Large.”

  Yep, that title didn’t miss a thing. Nailed it.

  I nodded, ready with my pointer, which, in actuality, was a couple of stir sticks I’d nabbed from Courtney’s coffee cart and taped together hastily. It was a wobbly pointer, but I figured it would do the trick.

  “First critique,” Cooper said, studying the illuminated screen in the otherwise dark room. “Title is a bit wordy if I’m being honest.”

  He looked so good in his police uniform that I let his negative feedback slide. I mean, the thought of running my hand down his muscular arm and then alongside his badge? Yeah, it sent shivers down my spine. Big time. But I shook them off and pulled back my shoulders. The dogs needed me. I wouldn’t let them down.

  “Thank you for your honesty, Officer Hill,” I said, even though I didn’t care two peanuts if he thought my title was wordy. The wordier the better, in my humble opinion. Or, my confident opinion to be more accurate. I cleared my throat, getting ready with the professional voice I’d used so well before dropping out of law school. “I welcome your feedback, but please hold all questions and comments until the end of the presentation.”