Page 77 of The Midseason Fakeout

“Look at you,” she exclaims, taking my spot.

“How did you do that?” The dog literally glares at me, sending me a warning growl again before Bailey turns on the special handheld sprayer. Sweetie Pie elongates his neck, letting Bailey rinse the shampoo off him.

“He seems sweet,” she says, rubbing him under the chin. I honestly have no idea how she does it.

“You just sweep your way into every man’s life, don’t you?”

“Only the cute ones.”

I pinch her butt, and she presses her lips together.

The family waiting on Sweetie Pie asks if they can get a picture with all three of us. Bailey lifts the dog out of the bin, and I stand behind her shoulder while they take the picture.

“That is the cutest thing,” the wife says, staring at the picture on her phone.

The little kid with them lifts up a notebook and pen.Well, this I can handle.I wipe my wet hands on my shirt and walk toward them. “What’s your name?”

“Ronnie.”

“Hi, Ronnie. Do you want me to sign that for you?”

“Yes, please.”

I take the notebook and pen from him, and he jumps up and down. I scribble my name, smiling. There was a time when I literally practiced signing my name. It was Reid who told me I better come up with something short and sweet. Something that still looked like my name but wouldn’t take me forever to write down when there was a line of people waiting.

The guy knew what he was talking about.

“Do you play?” I ask when I hand him back his stuff.

He stares down at my signature. “Mm-hmm. I want to be quarterback for Warner, just like you.”

Kneeling on the hard pavement, I reach out my hand, and he puts his palm in mine, wide-eyed. “Well, Future Quarterback for Warner, we have to stick together.”

“We do,” he says in awe.

“Future quarterback?” Bailey questions excitedly from beside me. She has Sweetie Pie wrapped up in a Warner University towel they’re giving out for free with every donation to the Step-Up Foundation. “That’s impressive.”

The family thanks us for bathing their dog. They put his collar and leash on him, and he walks away, his little legs moving at rapid speed.

“So, no terriers?” Bailey muses.

“Huh?”

“When you graduate and have your own dog and your own house, I’m guessing you’re not going to get a terrier?”

“Hell no. Did you see the way that thing looked at me?”

She laughs. “He liked me.”

“Well, that’s not fair. Everyone likes you.”

“It’s a curse,” she says with a shrug, then walks toward the intake lady to grab the next dog in line.

I make my way back to the basins they set out for everyone and start washing them out when a deep voice states, “You better watch out.”

I peer up at West. “What do you mean?”

He glances around and lowers his voice. “I told you fake dating her was a bad idea. You like her.”

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