“The Love at First Wag charity saw these,” Whitaker says. “Along with your general social media presence together. They and the general public think April is your girlfriend.”
My face heats. “That’s not—we’re not?—”
“She’s just always with the dogs and?—”
Whitaker interrupts. “They want you both to be the faces of their spring adoption campaign.”
Clark and I exchange glances.
“Both of us?” I squeak.
“The campaign runs until May,” Whitaker continues, like he’s presenting a business deal. “Photoshoots, public appearances, and social media content. You’d be the official couple representing the charity. They have huge donors, but even with funding, they can’t convince people to give the animals good homes. But you can.”
“But we’re not a couple,” Clark says firmly.
That’s right. Little sister over here!
“They don’t know that.” Whitaker leans forward. “Look, this wasn’t the direction I’d planned to go, but it’s actually perfect timing. Clark, your image needs work after that Denver loss and the ... other matters.” He doesn’t mention Posh by name, but I’m assuming that’s who he means.
Apparently, Clark doesn’t because his tone is a crowbar when he asks, “What other matters?”
“She married some music mogul in Vegas last night.”
“Posh did?”
Whitaker rolls his eyes and nods.
I squawk a laugh of shock and then place my hand in front of my mouth. “Sorry. That was, um, fast.”
Clark grunts.
Whitaker continues, “April, this would be massive publicity for your Barkery dream.”
My head snaps up. “How do you know about that?”
“Because Clark told me about it.” He names a figure—the amount the charity is offering for our participation. It’s not life-changing money. But it’s enough to cover the equipment and maybe even the first month’s rent on a storefront. It would help.
“This isn’t an April Fool’s joke,” I say slowly, looking between them.
“Definitely not,” Whitaker confirms. “This is a legitimate offer. Not my top choice, since it’s so wholesome, but I won’t say no to the cheddar. Speaking of, the snack table awaits.”
Clark gives Whitaker the side eye. “You concern me.”
Sidestepping toward the spread, Whitaker says, “They want an answer by Monday.”
I look at Clark. He’s watching me with an expression I can’t read.
“I ...” My voice sounds faint yet tinged with hope. “I’ll do it.”
“April—” Clark starts.
“It’s good publicity for both of us, right? For the charity. For the dogs.” I’m talking too fast. “It’s just pretend. Only temporary. We’re together all the time, anyway.”
“You don’t have to?—”
“I want to.” I force conviction into my voice even though the buffalo inside are causing a ruckus.
Am I so unappealing to Clark that he wouldn’t even want to fake date me? Then another thought lands in my mind. What if he’s pining over someone? Could we be in a love triangle and I don’t even realize it?
