Page 2 of Sexy Bad Valentine

I pour another glass of wine while I Google dating sites. Fetch another bottle while I dig up the courage to sign up for a few of them. Before I convince myself to toss my name into the cyber dating pool, I take a break and switch back to funny puppy videos. The first one dissolves into an advertisement for a dating show.

A cute chocolate Labrador puppy sits in the middle of the screen chewing on a heart shaped pillow that’s nearly as big as the dog. “Can’t find your perfect match? Tried dating sites and Tinder only to find people don’t live up to your expectations?”

Oh, don’t be silly. I can’t believe I’m nodding along to this lame ad for yet another dating site that isn’t going to help me find a date for Hannah’s Valentine’s party.

“Dogs are man’s best friend. With a canine what you see is what you get, so why not take the guess work out of finding your next date and sign up for Puppy Love? Date a dog, not a dawg.”

Pun-tastic. I lift my wine and eyeball the dry as bone glass. Through the walls a duck starts quacking, which is my cue to take it outside.

“Click on the link below.”

Argh. I jab my finger against the mouse pad and click on the link before climbing to my feet to go and deal with Ducky. Anything to avoid Alison’s cousin with the gropey hands. Or spending another Valentine’s alone.

When I get back, I flop on my belly and study the form. Turns out Puppy Love isn’t a dating website. It’s an online show sponsored by a pet food company. The idea is you have to go on dates with dogs and at the end of three dates you’re supposed to pick your favorite pup for a Valentine’s date with his owner. It’s ridiculous. It’s funny. Hell, the pups would probably be better dates than most of the men I’ve gone out with. I read through the form, filling in my details with no intention of submitting. I’m not going to, am I? This would be crazy, right? Possibly against my contract with the Frosts. I’m pretty sure there’s a clause about avoiding media attention, though with Garrett constantly in the spotlight I doubt anyone would notice me.

Tell us a little about yourself. Your likes, your pets, and why you want to be on Puppy Love.

Regarding pets, well, there’s a duck. Ducky. And I grew up with dogs, but unfortunately can’t have one in my current situation. And dogs are really smart, and they know when people are dicks. I don’t want to date a dick, but if I don’t find someone to share Valentine’s Day with I’m probably going to be stuck with one. Yep, because I am that much of a loser at this point that no one has seen my underwear in, oh, at least six months, and I’m probably growing cobwebs. I just want to date a nice guy for a change.

“Evie? Evie, are you in there?” A little voice is joined by little hands tapping against the door.

“Come on, Abby,” Erin says. “It’s Evie’s night off. She probably isn’t even home right now. You can tell her tomorrow.”

Because I have a life outside of work and study?

“But I wanted a story. She always does voices.”

“Well.” Erin drops her voice low and rumbly. “I’m doing the voices tonight.”

Abby’s squeal lasts all the way down the hallway.

I hit send on the form and get to my feet to go say goodnight to Abby. Possibly even to help Erin read her a book. Wait? Oh crap. I just submitted that, didn’t I?

“Crap.” I snatch up my computer. How do I take it back? There must be some way to take it back. Anything? Send. Shit. Send. Somehow I manage to send the same form three times. Okay, breathe. I suck in a breath, blow it out through my mouth. It’s okay. It’s not like they’re going to pick my submission out of the hundreds they’ll probably receive, and that whole thing about cobwebs and dicks is funny. Besides, I can always tell them someone played a joke on me if they call.

Putting my laptop down on the bed, I go to say goodnight to the kid. Best not to even think about puppies at all.

***

“Where are we going?” Abby asks from the back seat of the Land Rover her dad insists I drive when I take his daughter out.

I guide the vehicle through another set of traffic lights. “I thought we might go to the park.”

“Yay.” She claps her hands. “Will you swing me?”

“Absolutely.” I smile at her in the rear view mirror.

“High?” Her blue eyes light up and she wiggles in her seat.

“So high,” I agree, pulling into the parking lot of our favorite park. “But I have to meet someone while I’m there, okay?”

“Who?”

“A friend,” I tell her, climbing out of the car. It’s a small white lie, but one thing I’ve learned about being around small children is that nothing stays secret, and I’d much rather Abby believe I’m meeting a friend than interviewing for a dating show. What was I thinking agreeing to an interview?

“You have friends?” Abby’s eyes grow so huge they take up half her face while I unbuckle her seatbelt and grab the bag we tote everywhere.

Out of the mouths of babes. I shake my head. This is why I agreed to meet the producer of some crazy show about dating dogs. I might have friends, but I don’t even have time to see them, so I definitely don’t have time to find my own date. “I do.”

---