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He nodded. “Okay, boss.”
“I’m not the boss,” she protested.
“Yes, you are. You’re the one who knows what’s going on here and has the skills and experience to actually get Molly to do what she needs to do. I’m happy to take orders.” He winked over his shoulder as he moved the pool, unable to help teasing August just a little. “I like a woman who knows what she wants.”
Rolling her eyes and turning the approximate color of a strawberry, August got into position and called Molly over. “You’ll need to instruct her from now on, because we haven’t got much time left and she needs to know you’re the one issuing orders.”
“Great, just when we get to the hard bit you start delegating.”
“Youdidsay I was the boss.” She grinned. “What do we have to lose?”
“Our good standing in this competition...not to mention our dignity.” He scrubbed a hand over his chin. “But there’s no choice. Okay, let’s see how she goes.”
Keaton stood at the base of the ramp. “Molly, go.”
He walked alongside the ramp, hand out with a treat as he’d done many times in the last hour. She went up the ramp, tail wagging...until she saw the pool below. Then she stopped dead in her tracks and turned to Keaton, snorting, before trotting back down the ramp and sitting next to August. The dog let out an irritated whine.
Look what the bad man tried to make me do. He wants me to take a bath!! The gall of him.
“Dramatic freaking dog,” he muttered. “Molly, go.”
She sat still.
“We’re never going to get this,” he moaned.
Molly stomped away from August and went over to the big rubber duck. For a moment, Keaton thought she might perform the trick to earn herself a treat. But before either August or Keaton could get over to her, she clamped her jaws down on the duck’s head, puncturing the inflated plastic, then she tossed him back and forth as if trying to murder the damn thing.
“Molly, no!” August ran over, hand outstretched, but Keaton got there first.
“Drop it,” he commanded in a strong voice.
To his surprise, Molly dropped the duck. But everyone in the room was looking at them, hands covering amused smiles and laughter. The duck landed on the ground, the air already escaping its poor punctured head, which tipped to the side as the air drained out of it in a sad littlewheeze, one eye looking at Keaton accusingly for causing its murder.
“Uh-oh.” August pressed her hands to her cheeks. “I hope they have more ducks.”
The duck deflated like a sad, forgotten birthday balloon, leaving only a puddle of bright yellow plastic behind. Sighing, he looked at the dog. Molly looked up at him with intense eye contact and zero degrees of remorse.
You brought this on yourself, human. Actions have consequences.
For some reason, the lesson felt very appropriate.
17
The commercial shoot challenge was...kind of a disaster. For their team, anyway. While a few of the dogs happily trotted their way through the obstacles to enthusiastic applause from the judges, August and Keaton had to request a new inflatable duck and completed the task without the kiddie pool.
Molly did her best, but it wasn’t a great showing.
Had they blown their chances of Molly winning the competition? Perhaps. But she’d still managed to avoid elimination for one more day.
And working with Keaton, trying to problem solve and achieve a shared goal had felt...nice. Rewarding, even if the outcome wasn’t as good as they’d wanted it to be. It had been a long time since she’d worked with anyone toward a shared goal, and it really played into her feelings of wanting a partner in life. If trying to win a competition with someone made her feel connected and part of a cohesive unit, then having a partner in life would be like that times a million.
Scout had invited August for a drink in their cabin, but she’d had to decline because she had plans. Reviewing the files that Maxine had sent through and then a meeting with the woman herself. All the contestants were taking part in headshots—proper ones this time and not DIY stuff—so Keaton had to stay with Molly for the next hour or so while she was groomed and photographed, which would give August complete privacy.
She headed back to the cabin, trying to perk herself up and get excited about the matchmaking meeting. There was absolutelynoreason to be dreading it. The idea of a perfectly selected match being presented to her felt so much safer than doing it herself.
Yet the doubts still niggled.
What if the next guy was a disaster, too? What if Asher Benson wasn’t a one-off? What if she was still doing this dance for the next ten years? Or fifteen? Or twenty?
