“The dogs are already in it. They’re part of the campaign.”
“I mean, we don’t use them as emotional support animals if things get weird.”
“So I can’t cuddle Buster when I’m confused about my feelings?”
Her expression falls and then she throws a wadded-up napkin at me. “You can cuddle Buster anytime. Just don’t blame-dump your emotional problems on him. He’s secretly sensitive. Imagine how confusing it would be if he thinks we’re dating and then you actually fall in love with someone random?”
“I would never,” I say too quickly.
Her eyebrows lift.
“I mean, while we’re fake dating, there won’t be time for me to so much as meet anyone else. Plus, I probably need a break from Whitaker’s meddling. We have the playoffs coming up. I have to focus.” Thankfully, for me, April fully understandsthat. In fact, she, of all people, supports me when I have to go hard in hockey. Women like Lyric and Posh would probably get ticked off that they weren’t getting enough attention.
April clears her throat and says, “Rule six: No falling in love.”
The words sail through the air like a flaming arrow toward dry brush on the roadside.
“No falling in love,” I repeat.
April’s smile falters. “That would be ... bad.”
“Terrible,” I agree, even though my heart is pounding against my ribs like a prisoner who knows it’s already too late for that rule.
“Rule seven,” she says quickly. “When this is over, we go back to being friends. No matter what.”
“No matter what,” I echo.
She adds it to the list. “Any other rules?”
“Just one more.” I meet her eyes. “Rule eight: We have fun with this. If we’re going to fake date, we might as well enjoy it.”
“I can do that.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Her dimple pops when she grins. “Although I reserve the right to tease you mercilessly.”
“I would expect nothing less.”
We finish cleaning up and Scout paws at the door.
“Someone needs to go O-U-T,” April observes.
“All of them, probably.” I glance toward the window. It’s dark but not too late. “Want to come?”
“That depends. Are you going to tell me more cringy moments about your date with Posh?”
“There were several.”
She tilts her head from side to said as if considering. “Then yes.”
We leash up the dogs and April wears a pouch that’s kindof like a baby carrier. She pops Purdy inside of it until she wants to get down and walk—usually not until she knows we’ve turned around and are on our way home. Our pack heads out into the crisp spring evening.
I grab Howie the gnome from the counter on our way out. “I think the best place to return this is the Barn. Leah is going to wonder where he went.”
“They’re going to think you stole Coach Badaszek’s mascot.”
“I didn’t steal him! Honest.” I tell her about how I suspect this is a test from the guys.
