Page 12 of Finding Mr. July

But ultimately, it’s Rachel who comes through for me first.

“I’ve got our first model!” she announces after lunch on Thursday. She’s holding her phone in the air as she marches up to my desk with a triumphant smile.

Finally! I close my laptop, where I’ve just accepted contact requests from two more guys on the dating site. “Who?”

“Dennis from the gym. Remember I told you about him and his Chihuahua?” She shows me a picture of a tan guy with a bright smile and muscles that threaten to pop his T-shirt.

In his arms is a scrawny, short-haired little dog with perky ears and large brown eyes.

They’re the most mismatched owner and pet duo I’ve ever seen except their heads are both tilted a smidge to the right as if they’ve moved in synchrony.

“That’s great. Can you text that to me so I can show it to Jonathan? When is Dennis available? And you told him we can’t pay, right? That it’s for a good cause?”

Rachel smiles. “Deep breaths. Yes, he knows that. And he’s free Sunday if we can make that happen.”

“We’re going to have to.”

My phone pings with the image, and I waste no time setting course toward Jonathan’s office.

I haven’t seen him since our meeting Tuesday, so I don’t know if his attitude has improved or deteriorated since, but because Rachel has set this next phase in motion, I can’t afford to care about that. No matter the reason, he said he’s in, so I’m going to take him at his word.

I stick my head through the doorway into the office where he and Jacques are working. “Hey.”

His usual scowl is surprisingly absent today when he responds in kind. “Hey, what’s up?”

So far, so good. I glance at Jacques. For all intents and purposes, he’s teamed up with the enemy, so I gesture for Jonathan to come outside. “Do you have a minute?”

He catches on and joins me in the hallway.

As he closes the office door behind him, the draft sweeps a hint of his scent past me. Goose bumps rise on the back of my arms. If only I’d had more tequila that night so I wouldn’t remember quite so much. Knowing I’ve slept with my cheek against this man’s bare chest remains a tad distracting.

I clear my throat and show him the picture. “Ready and willing,” I say.

His eyes cut to mine, an amused glint beneath his brow.

My neck warms when I hear what that must have sounded like. “I mean, Rachel has found our first guy who is ready and willing to model for the calendar.”

“Yeah, you scared me there for a moment.”

“Haha. You free Sunday?”

He checks the calendar on his phone. “That works. Where?”

Yes! So far so good on my timeline holding up. “I thought maybe we could discuss that together?”

Something passes across his face. “Really?”

“You’re the creative genius. It would be foolish of me not to take advantage of your vision when I’ve lured you over to the dark side.” When he doesn’t immediately respond, I backtrack with a shrug. “Or I could tell you what to do and when to do it.”

That hits a nerve. “No, no. I know some good spots.”

I award him a smile. “That’s what I was hoping. Any immediate thoughts on a good one for Dennis and his tiny pup?”

Jonathan takes my phone, his forehead creasing as he considers my question.

“Let’s do the Seattle skyline with them.

At Kerry Park. Five thirty p.m.” He clicks something on my screen, and then his fingers move.

“I’m giving you my number so we can reach each other.

Sending…” His phone beeps in his pocket.

“There. Now I’ve got yours, too.” He hands the device back.

The metal is warm from his touch. “Thanks.”

“Uh-huh.” He looks at me expectantly, as if waiting for more.

“Um…” I stare at the screen where he’s typed Holly’s number in a text to himself. Something about seeing my name written by him feels… intimate. It shouldn’t. We’re coworkers. Rachel has me in her phone, too. But Rachel is also my friend.

Maybe Jonathan and I can be friends.

The thought is there from nowhere. Or from seeing my name backlit in matter-of-fact sans serif.

“Got any other fun plans this weekend?” I ask.

He flinches. “Plans? Why?”

On second thought, maybe friendship is better off not begun with drunken canoodling.

“Never mind. Just making conversation. I’ll check with Dennis and get back to you. Do I need to bring anything to the shoot?”

He shakes his head. “I’ve got everything I need.”

“Great.” I start backing away.

Jonathan reaches for the door handle but pauses. “He’s going to wear clothes, right? In the photo? We’re not going to get cited for public indecency or anything?”

Is that what he pictures? An actual full-frontal pinup situation?

I decide to have some fun with him. “Oh no,” I say.

“It’s nature-themed, remember? And what’s more natural than the human body, dicks and all?

It’ll depend on the model’s comfort level, of course.

Buns are fine, too.” I draw a line in the air with my whole hand as if painting the picture.

“Man and Mother Earth in perfect harmony.”

At first he stares at me, but after a long moment, he purses his pretty mouth. “You’re yanking my chain.”

“Yup, I totally am.” I wink at him. “Don’t worry, they won’t be naked. At least not completely.”

“What do you mean by ‘completely’?” he calls after me as I set off down the hallway.

“See you Sunday,” I call back.

That evening, I set my plan in motion to help my brother find a date.

He’s an easy guy to talk up, so his Pawsome Partners profile basically writes itself.

Who wouldn’t want to meet an attractive, well-groomed, six-foot attorney who is a great dad, a dog lover, a decent cook, and an avid hiker?

I select “casual dates” in the drop-down menu for what he’s looking for (as opposed to “long-term commitment”), and then I submit it and cross my fingers.

I should have done this a long time ago.

Then again, I’ve been somewhat preoccupied by my own life drama for the past couple of years. Well, that changes now.

I stare at the screen for a moment where a pawprint in the shape of a heart announces, “Your purr-fect match awaits!” and then I open my work email for a final check before bed.

The printer still hasn’t emailed me the contract I need to sign, and while they did say it might take a couple of days, I don’t like anything being left to chance.

For peace of mind, I shoot off a nudge, keeping my tone upbeat and understanding. Better safe than sorry.

“T’s crossed and i’s dotted,” I mumble as I crawl under the covers. That’s how you make things happen.