If looks could kill, I would be arrested where I stand. Owen takes his time chatting up the couple, and it’s only by sheer luckthat I happen to glance at Shutout at the very moment that the dog begins to lift his leg.
“Shutout, no!” I drag on the leash to hustle him outside. If this dog pees on the display, I will literally die of mortification. And he’ll be the cause. I thought Owen and I were making progress, but it’s clear that I was wrong. Apparently, I imagined that.
Shutout decides that this would be a great moment to starfish. He lets all of his legs go limp. In a last-ditch attempt to salvage the tatters of my dignity, I scoop both arms under Shutout’s chest and manhandle him through the sliding door.
“Oof, you’re a stinky boy,” I grumble.
Shutout wags his tail. As soon as I put him down, he totters over to one of the entryway’s support pillars. He lifts his leg and lets fly. Another customer, who looks uncannily like how I remember my grandmother, shoots me a nasty look and tightens her grip on her Pomeranian, who I swear to God is also judging me. I respond with a small wave. It’s the best I can muster.
Two minutes later, Owen emerges from the store, looking bewildered. “Where did you go? One minute you were there, and the next…”
“Shutout had to go,” I snap.
“Ah.” Owen nods down at his dog. “Old bladder couldn’t handle all the excitement, huh, boy?”
Shutout wags his tail.
Owen pats his pup’s head with one hand and holds out the other to me. “Sorry about that. I figured talking to the fans would be a good move. How can I make it up to you?”
By talking to me. By telling me what’s going on!
But I have a feeling that won’t fly, so I tell him, “You could start by getting me a Frappuccino.”
Owen cocks his head. “That, I can do. Besides, we love a pup cup, don’t we, bud?”
Shutout wags his tail, though I’m starting to think that this is less because he understands Owen and more because he’s just a naturally happy, airheaded noodle. It’s interesting that Owen keeps this goofy elder dog as a pet rather than the kind I would have expected. A pitbull or a rottie would seem more on-brand.
We head back to the car. At least for this part of the drive, Shutout is much calmer than before. That makes one of us. The stress of the day is catching up with me, and I would kill for an ibuprofen. Specifically, I would consider killing Owen, the undeniable source of this headache.
The peace and quiet only lasts until we pull into the Starbucks drive-through. Shutout rallies for another round of ear-splitting howls.
“All the baristas know him,” Owen shouts over the din.
“He’s hard to forget!” I agree over the sound of Shutout’s caterwauling.
We place our order and pull up to the window. The woman on the other side of the glass takes one look at Owen and lights up.
“Look who it is. Our favorite goalie!” She beams at him. “Staying out of trouble?”
“Doing my best.” Owen glances over his shoulder at me.
She hands over our drinks and Shutout’s pup cup. It seems to take an extra minute for her to handle the payment, and when she hands Owen’s card back, I see why. The bottom of his receipt reads,Call me! Mara,followed by a phone number.
That’s a complication I definitely didn’t factor into this.
“Does that happen often?” I asked.
Owen nods. “All the time. Like I said, they know us there.”
Ugh, that’s so unprofessional. Surely Owen’s not hooking up with any of the baristas? They lookedwaytoo young for him. Talk about a PR nightmare.
Shutout demolishes his pup cup, while I slurp my drink in silence. Owen drives us back to his place, where he gets out of the truck with no commentary or acknowledgement of the fact that my car’s still at the arena.
“What now?” I unbuckle my seatbelt and pop out of the truck. Owen breezes through the front door without offering me anything by way of guidance. I get that he’s not a talker, but I don’t understand what he’sdoingright now. And I really don’t enjoy not understanding him.
“I don’t have any big plans.” He heads toward the kitchen. “I can call you an Uber.”
“Owen.” I stalk after him. Shutout wanders over to a giant dog bed and collapses with a weary sigh. Unlike him, I’m getting fired up all over again. “Owen, come back here! We need to talk about today.”
