Page 34 of Meet Cute or Your Money Back

“I was just saying that the vol-au-vent was my favorite canape to…” I pause, realizing to him, it looks like I was talking to a ghost. “To myself.”

“Nice save,” Thatcher mutters sarcastically.

Isn’t he supposed to behelpingme? Not commenting like the two old hecklers in The Muppets?

“I’m glad you like them,” Kenneth says, smiling wider. If he finds it weird I’m sitting alone talking to myself about finger foods, he doesn’t let on. “One of my clients is the caterer. I’ll pass it onto her that you’re a fan.”

“What do you do?” Even though my attempts at small talk are lame, he answers warmly and quickly.

“I’m a hedge fund manager.”

Inwardly, I give a big, fat yawn.Bo-ring.

“You could at least pretend to be interested, Allie,” Thatcher says.

But before I can respond to either of them, Kenneth rolls his eyes. “Boring, I know. But it pays the bills and makes it so I can come to things like this and spend my free time helping animals in need.”

Huh. Less boring.

“You’re on the board,” I state and gesture to his name tag.

“For two years now,” he says.

“I’m Allie Larsen, animal lover and food reviewer.” Kenneth takes my hand when I offer it.

“Food reviewer. It’s going to mean even more that you liked the vol-au-vent, then. Have you seen the rescue animals we brought tonight?”

My eyes widen. “There’re rescue animals here? At the gala?”

He nods, his smile widening. “We always bring a few of our most well-behaved. Come on.” He offers me his elbow to take. “I’ll introduce you to them.”

I pause, waiting to hear Thatcher’s advice, but he’s silent. I scan the room and find him engaged in a conversation with a stunning woman in a gold sparkly dress and siren red hair.

What the hell? Isthiswhat I’m paying him for?

I clear my throat and take Kenneth’s arm. “That’d be great,” I say, allowing him to lead me out of the ballroom.

Five minutes later, I’m rolling on the floor of the back room with a pittie puppy and I don’t even care that I’m probably going to have to reimburse my boss for this dress. It’s worth it with every puppy kiss I get.

“Oh, aren’t you the most perfect little thing?” I coo.

Beside me, a mixed hound dog gives a long, howling bark. “Oh, don’t worry, you’re perfect, too.” I pause to give the older dog some love as well.

“Allie?” I hear the crackle of Thatcher’s voice in my ear. “Allie, where are you?” He sounds more panicked than a man at a black-tie event should.

I clear my throat and stand up, putting the puppy back down on the floor. “Thank you for taking me back here to see the rescue dogs, Kenneth.”

A fact you would know, Thatcher, if you bothered to do your job rather than flirt with socialites.

I hear Thatcher’s sigh of relief and resist the urge to roll my eyes.

“Of course,” Kenneth says. “Do you have dogs?”

“I have one,” I say. “A fluffy, little guy that I rescued from an overfilled puppy mill. What about you?”

“I have two. An Irish Setter and a lab mix. Plus I’m fostering this little lady,” Kenneth adds, bending to scratch the hound dog behind the ears.

“Fostering, wow. I don’t know that I could give them up.”

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