Page 20

Once September comes to an end, the chaos of the new school year is finally beginning to slow down.

Thanks to Petunia Lemon, this year’s been more hectic than ever before.

I’ve loved going to the meetings each week, learning about the products and seeing how the other skincare reps go about building their businesses.

But it’s made it harder than normal to fall back into my previously scheduled program.

I’m a creature of habit, always have been.

My mom said I put her and my dad on a schedule when I was a baby, not the other way around.

It’s one of the things I love most about kindergarten.

With a classroom full of kids as young as my students, having a schedule they can rely on is of the utmost importance.

Starting our days with the same routine, singing the same songs, and sitting in the same seats allows them the time and space to prepare for the day.

My weekend schedule may not be quite as rigid as a school day, but there’s one thing I always make sure I have time for.

I drive into The Barkery’s parking lot and slide into the same spot I’ve used every weekend for the last three years.

I started volunteering after I brought my class for a field trip and I will never stop.

I usually come on Sundays, but since I’m hosting my first Petunia Lemon party tomorrow, I’m spending my Saturday with them instead.

I get to cuddle kitties, walk puppies, and send them away with their forever families.

Yes, it can also be sad seeing these poor animals end up in a shelter, but my time here always brings me more joy than anything else.

The Barkery does countless acts of good for animals in need in my area, and I’m so grateful to be a part of their community.

I grab my tote bag from my passenger seat, triple-checking that I have my camera and extra memory card, when my phone buzzes with a Facebook notification.

I’ve tagged along with Nora to a few more Petunia Lemon meetings since Jacqueline’s house.

The sisters in skincare have sat with me, helping me craft “Hey girl” messages to send to old friends and acquaintances in hopes of them wanting to learn more about Petunia Lemon and inviting them to my first party.

I’ve had a few people say yes, but most responses—if they ever respond—have been polite noes.

I swipe open my phone and open the app I didn’t even have before Petunia Lemon. There’s an unread message from Victoria Lewis.

Hi Emerson! It’s so nice to hear from you after all this time.

I’m doing well, just moved to Arizona and am trying to adjust to the heat!

Thank you for inviting me to your Petunia Lemon party, but I think I’m going to have to pass.

I joined a company similar to them after Bella was born and although I met a lot of great women, that business structure just wasn’t for me. I hope you kill it though! Good luck!

Another rejection. Great.

I know they say it’s a numbers game, and I just have to keep reaching out, but there’s only so many times a person can hear no before they want to give up. And I can feel my limit approaching.

Thank god the Petunia Pro Facial Spa is money-back guaranteed.

I type out a quick message to Victoria, thanking her for taking the time to respond and requesting a few new pictures of her adorable daughter before tossing my phone into my purse and finally heading inside.

“Hi, Emerson!” Shelly shouts as soon as I step foot through the door. “The talent is so excited to spend the day with you.”

“How are the new models doing?” I ask. “Any divas this time?”

“Always.” Her throaty laughter echoes off the tiled floors and is only drowned out by the barking of the dogs she startled. “There’s one tabby who I’m sure is going to give you problems.”

“It’s always the cats.” I love them, but wow are they sassy. “Can you tell Tom that I’ll be there in a few minutes? I just have to put my stuff away.”

“You got it, hun.” Her trademark bright pink–painted lips curve into an even brighter smile as she picks up the phone. “Tommy-boy, Emerson will be there soon. Please make sure the talent is ready for their close-ups.”

Once I found out there was a volunteer position to photograph the animals for The Barkery website and help them get adopted, I was instantly interested. And by interested , I mean it became my entire personality.

I spent two weeks straight googling pet photography and scanning other shelter websites to see how they got their animals’ faces into the world.

I texted my mom’s phone with so many dog pictures that she ran out of phone storage and limited me to only three dog pictures a day.

She also adopted a dog, Bailey the basset hound, and now I spend my days only a little jealous that I’m not the favorite child anymore.

Lucky for me though, she felt so guilty about her maternal betrayal that she bought me a camera and offered to sign me up for photography lessons at the rec center by my house. I obviously took her up on this, and now I get to spend two days a month taking glamour shots of animals.

Besides being a teacher, it’s the best job in the world.

I walk down the familiar hallway covered with hundreds of candid pictures of animals who have come through The Barkery over the years.

From cats and dogs to turtles and bunnies, all animals are welcome.

Even ferrets, which are not my animal of choice, have found their humans here.

I push open the door for the volunteer lounge and wave to a few familiar faces as I walk over to the worn-down cubbies to put my stuff there for the day.

Careful not to scratch my lens, I pull the camera my mom gave me two Christmases ago out of its case and drape the long strap around my neck.

I tuck the extra memory card in my back pocket and grab the bedazzled collar and puppy bow tie I found in the clearance section of the pet shop last night.

Since becoming the unofficial pet photographer for The Barkery Animal Shelter, I have taken it upon myself to provide a plethora of props and accessories for my models.

The pet store knows I do this since I’m there every week—and also because I love to talk and happily explained my plan to them—so they always hold the cutest items in the back for me.

I slip the extra hair tie off of my wrist and twist my hair into a bun at the top of my head. It’s a lesson I had to learn the hard way, but I now make sure to always keep my hair out of reach of the animals. I step into the hallway and as soon as I do, I hear someone yell my name.

“Miss Pierce!” a tiny voice shouts. “Miss Pierce!”

I turn around just in time to see a fireball with curly brown hair barreling down the hall right before she slams into me. She wraps her little arms around me and looks up with the toothy grin I love so much.

“Isla!” I hug her back. “Hi, sweetie.”

“Hi, Miss Pierce!” She loosens her grip and takes a step back. “Guess what?”

“Hmmm…let me think.” I tap my chin and pretend to think really hard. “You’re at an animal shelter. Are you here to ride a tiger?”

“No!” She shakes her head, her giggles music to my ears. “You can’t ride tigers!”

“Oh, you’re right. I don’t think tigers would like that very much,” I say. “Did you come to get a snake?”

Her jaw drops and her green eyes go wide.

“Daddy!” she squeals, and that’s when I finally notice him standing right behind her. “They have snakes here!”

“Oh no.” His eyes crease at the corners, his deep chuckle washing over me like sunshine on a stormy day. “No snakes or any other creatures that slither or shed their skin.”

I don’t ever want to be Team Luke over Isla, but as much as it pains me, I am going to have to agree with him on this one. Isla shrugs, not seeming too bothered by her dad’s reptile rejection, and turns back to face me.

“It’s almost my birthday and since I’m turning six”—she holds up her hands, showing me six fingers—“Daddy says I’m big enough to get a puppy!”

She bounces up and down, as if she’s incapable of standing still with this much excitement racing through her tiny little body.

“Oh my goodness, Isla! That’s so exciting!” I hold up my hand for a high five. “Do you know what kind of dog you want to bring home?”

I want an animal so bad, but my one-bedroom apartment is far too small for a pet. And with the amount of time I spend at work, they’d have to be crated up for so much of their day that it wouldn’t feel fair to them. Oh…also, my landlord doesn’t allow them. But I think I could work around that.

“No.” She shakes her head and her little curlicues fall into her face. “Daddy says we don’t pick our dog, our dog will pick us.”

Dammit.

As if Luke saving me in the parking lot and changing my battery wasn’t enough, now he has to be a kind, sweet single dad who adopts animals on the weekends?

This is the worst thing that could happen to me.

Why can’t he go back to being the condescending jerk from the hotel room so I can remember all the reasons I never want to sleep with him ever again? The audacity of this man!

“Your daddy is very smart.” The words taste like sour milk, and I have to fight back my gag reflex. “Before you go look at all the dogs, do you want to see something special?”

She turns back around to Luke and levels him with her best puppy dog plea, “Please, Daddy! Can we?”

I can tell he wants to say no, to keep as much distance between the two of us as humanly possible, but who can say no to that face? Not Luke, that’s for sure.

“Fine,” he says. “But not for too long. Okay?”

What a sucker.

“Thank you!” Isla gives him a quick hug before running back to my side and taking my hand in hers.

We walk through the shelter, and I show her where all of the different animals are while she tells me about everything from her gymnastics class yesterday to what she ate for dinner last night—cheese pizza for her, olive, onion, and sausage for Luke—and the new night-light she got for her room.

It’s a llama and she named it Lola because “all llamas need a name.”

“This room,” I say, pointing to the door leading to the photo studio, “is where I come two times a month and get to do something superspecial with all of the new animal friends who come to stay here. Do you want to see what I do?”

She bounces from foot to foot on her velcro, glitter tennis shoes. “Yes, please!”

“Took you long enough.” Tom, a seventy-two-year-old curmudgeon, harrumphs from the recliner in the corner of the room. “Thought they were going to have to euthanize me if you took any longer.”

“What’s eufanize mean, Miss Pierce?” Isla asks.

I shoot Tom my dirtiest look before turning my attention back to sweet, innocent, doesn’t-need-to-know-about-animal-death Isla.

“It’s something that can happen when animals get old and sick so they don’t feel sick anymore.” I brace for a follow-up question, but for once, luck is on my side.

The back door opens and Sadie, another weekend volunteer, walks through the door with a very excited, very wiggly puppy.

“Oh good, you’re here!” Sadie says. “This is Bruno and he’s your first model for the day. He just got here on Wednesday and he’s the very best boy.”

Next to me, Isla can’t contain her squeal of delight, and proving Sadie right, Bruno sits like the very best boy he is and lets Isla approach to give him ear scratches.

“He’s so cute!” Isla says between laughs when Bruno covers her hand with doggie kisses.

“He is so cute and it’s our job to help him find a new home,” I tell her. “Can you help me do that?”

She nods her head up and down so hard that she jostles her curls out of her ponytail. “How do we do that?”

“Do you see that?” I point to the cabinet in the back of the room.

“I need you to go there and pick out a collar that will make Bruno look super fancy and then”—I lift up the camera around my neck—“we’re going to take pictures of him to put on our website.

That way families looking for a new pet can see his picture and come here to take him home. ”

Isla jumps at the opportunity, running across the room and throwing the cabinet doors open.

“Oh my gosh!” she screeches, pulling out the basket filled with the bedazzled collars. “They’re so sparkly!”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Luke’s strangled voice pulls everyone’s attention to him sulking in the corner. “You take dog portraits?”

“She’s the best damn animal photographer we have.

” Only Tom can compliment me and still make it sound like an insult.

I’m pretty sure his vocal cords are physically incapable of producing sounds of joy.

It’s one of my favorite things about him.

“She takes pictures of all the animals, not just dogs. She’s so good that adoptions have gone up fifteen percent since she took over. ”

“You teach children during the week and during your free time, you volunteer to take animal pictures?” He stares at me, his mouth agape as he tries to process this new information. “So they can get adopted?”

“I hate to break it to you, Luke,” I say, closing the space between the two of us so that the little ears in the room won’t hear me. “But I’m a better person than I am good in bed. And you already know that I’m really, really great in bed.”

His sharp intake of breath is all I hear before Isla, the cute little distraction, runs back waving a checkered bow tie over her head.

“This one, Miss Pierce!” She gives me the bow tie with one hand and pulls me away from her dad with the other. “Come on, let’s get him a family.”

I follow behind her, because it’s clear who the boss is here, but I glance over my shoulder at Luke one more time as I go.

And what a mistake it is.

His tongue darts out, licking his bottom lip at the exact moment his green eyes lock with mine. My legs almost give out beneath me, and my heart rate spikes to lethal levels. Because the look on his face doesn’t just tell me that he remembers how good I was in bed; it says he wants to do it again.

And fuck me twice—or a hundred times—because so do I.