Page 2

An assistant points out my white chair while I ascend the steps.

I get myself situated, and Athena sits to my left.

A few of the important-looking people appear pleasantly surprised when Athena just stays there.

They walk away with content smiles on their faces, like they weren’t sure how it would go having an animal on set.

Athena isn’t only an animal, though, that’s for sure. I’m pretty sure she’s part human.

“You’re doing great,” Paula says, flashing another genuine smile my way. She now has cards in her hands. “Remember, we’re two old friends.”

“Thirty seconds,” technology assistant Mike warns.

It would be easier to think of ourselves as two old friends if someone wasn’t counting the seconds down to us having a conversation.

I take a deep breath, letting my eyes flutter closed for a few short seconds. It’s only a few minutes . Talk about the video a little bit and then, of course, Pet Threads. It’s all worth it. It’s been worth it , I say like a mantra.

I never wanted to be in the spotlight, but I can’t say it hasn’t helped the business. Millions of eyes on my most embarrassing moment meant millions of people introduced to Pet Threads. The two went hand-in-hand. In a way, Tab and I are lucky.

“Ten seconds,” Mike warns again, and I don’t think it’s my imagination that his voice has gotten deeper, more serious as the time runs closer and closer. When he greeted me this morning, he almost sounded normal.

At once, a bunch of things happen. Paula’s hair and makeup people leave us alone together on the tiny stage.

It gets real quiet, then super loud when someone stands in the crowd, hyping up the audience.

They’re all on their feet, and Paula is beaming now, her smile more fake than before, but still beautiful and glaringly white, like she has a perfect row of chicklets in her mouth.

I’m still ogling her teeth when she says, “We’re back with Raeann Gorman! You might not recognize the name, but you’ll sure recognize the face and that cute country twang. That’s right. We’re talking to Miss ‘But I Love Him’ on the show this morning. First, let’s show a clip of the video.”

My stomach twists. Paula gestures toward the TV that’s now rising between us out of a piece of wood furniture. My puffy red face is bigger than I’ve ever seen it, and an ice pack is pressed to my jaw while Tab’s giggle rings through the speaker.

“What did you just say?” she asks.

“Micah Freeman,” I slur. It sounds more like Mi-ah Reeman, especially since my voice is coming at me from all sides in this huge space.

“What about him?”

A leading question if I ever heard one. To hear Tab tell the story, I’d been going on and on for a good five minutes before this, so she finally decided to pull out her phone and take the video.

“We in ’ove,” I state, my face contorting to a scowl the more Tab laughs.

“You’re in love?”

I nod incessantly. “I dunno…” the phone volume muffles for a moment when Tab switches hands, “… you’re ’aughing. We’re married.”

“You’re married to Micah Freeman? The Tennessee Wildcats’ running back?”

“Yes!” I pout, crossing my arms over my chest. “Is nah a ’aughing madder. He ’oves me.”

In the video, Athena licks my face. They pause on that frame where you can clearly see her dressed in my Pet Thread pajama design.

A part of me is pleased. The other part of me that’s vain enough to care that one of my eyes is open and the other is being licked by a dog for millions of people to see is humiliated.

You can even see the trail of drool Athena left behind.

Damn Tab and her insistence that she always get the latest iPhone for promotional material.

All those camera pixels are screwing me right now.

When I return to my body, the audience is laughing. I smile good-naturedly because it is funny. It’d be funnier if it wasn’t me, but I’ve laughed at a few dental videos myself. This is a higher power getting back at me, for sure.

“They must’ve given you the good stuff,” Paula jokes.

“The best,” I reply, nerves thrumming through my veins.

“You didn’t know what was happening?”

“No clue.”

She laughs again. Genuine, like she’s not laughing at me, which I appreciate.

I cringe at the screen, which garners another round of cheering from the audience. “For the record, I’m not married to Micah Freeman.”

“You don’t say?”

I laugh. “Like I said, the good stuff.”

Paula asks a few questions about my procedure and the good stuff , and we all have a good chuckle. About the time I think we’re going to move the conversation to Pet Threads, she asks, “Did you ever hear from Micah Freeman? Or his team?”

I can’t help but bark out a laugh. “God no. He’s a three-time Pro Bowler.” I’m sure he has enough crazies around him that they don’t need to throw me into the mix.

“You sound like you know your football.”

I shrug, being a little coy. No one likes a know-it-all. “You couldn’t get away from football in my house growing up. My father was a high school football coach and my grandfather is a diehard Wildcats fan to this day.”

“Aww,” Paula says. “That is so adorable. Well, I’m sure Micah was pleased to find out he has such loyal fans.”

“I promise I’m not crazy,” I joke, then tension making my hands shake.

“Is that what you would tell him if he was here right now?”

“That and Go Wildcats!”

The crowd cheers, and I pet Athena absentmindedly to try to calm myself down. This is actually going well. Despite wanting to puke all morning, I might actually pull this off if we’re nearly done.

“Well, let’s see what he has to say!” Paula yells, and my face falls before my mind can even comprehend her words.

She gestures toward the TV, and a handsome face appears on the screen.

Relief floods through me that they’re not going to have him running out of the back or something.

“Hi, Raeann, this is Micah Freeman. I hear you’re a fan.

Thanks for supporting the Wildcats.” The Wildcats growl sounds, and then the picture blips out.

There goes his adorable dimples and his perfectly manicured facial hair. Soulful brown eyes, brown hair swept to the side. That overly cocky smile. I mean, if I had to pick a fake husband during a medically induced haze, it was going to be him.

“He said your name!” Paula says excitedly.

“He said my name,” I confirm. Thankfully, that’s all he said.

From the moment I recovered from the good stuff and Tab played me the video she put up on social media, I wasn’t that worried.

It was a cute slice of life snippet that showed Athena rocking an adorable outfit that we sold in our stores.

It wasn’t until the views started pouring in and everything seemed to steamroll that I got anxious.

Fears of being seen. Fears of being thought that I was stupid or crazy or some other awful, terrible thing.

I have enough anxiety with my simple life.

I don’t need to add to it by worrying about what everyone else thinks of me. “That was cool of him. Thanks, Micah.”

“Well, you can thank him in person. Micah Freeman, come on out!”

My stomach drops immediately and I’m free-falling through a rush of horror.

This isn’t happening. Please be a joke.

It’s not.

Micah Freeman jogs out of the same place I was in only a few minutes ago, except his entrance is effortless.

He waves at the crowd, a charming smile on his face.

Paula’s team brings another chair to the stage next to hers while they greet each other, and I’m too stunned to move.

Nothing works. My feet. My hands. I might as well be moss growing on a fallen tree limb in a dark, dense forest.

The moment I’ve dreaded since the video went viral just sucker punched me on live TV.

Micah releases Paula from a hug before rounding the coffee table and walking toward me.

By some grace of something otherworldly, I get to my feet without falling over.

He hugs me, and I stand there, his wide torso completely enveloping me, his strong arms like stone.

I remind myself to breathe, but then I get a whiff of his cologne and I almost die on the spot.

He smells so good. Like rain showers in the jungle and earthy sandalwood. Like nature and eau de man had to come together to make something not from this world.

“Nice to meet you.” His sexy baritone reverberates in my ear and echoes through my whole body.

I don’t think I utter a single word. I don’t even think my face reacts enough to smile.

He lets me go, pulling away. His gaze lands on mine, and I’m once again struck utterly dumb.

The corner of his lip tips up, accentuating that dimple, and if smoldering was a look, I get the full force of it.

His brown eyes, captivating and intense, pin me in place—so much so that I can barely breathe.

His stare wanders down and back up, and I swear his eyes shift in front of me.

His smile melts, replaced by a feather in his jaw that thrums, nearly matching the beat of my heart.

I’m still in shock when his attention is torn away. “Oh, hey there,” he coos.

I glance over to see what he’s focused on, and Athena is on her hind legs, tail wagging as her paws find Micah’s chest.

“So cute,” he murmurs.

The crowd is loving it. He pats her on the head. But then I see the slight shift in her.

Her feet turn in.

She latches.

Then she starts going to town on Micah Freeman’s leg.

Oh. My. God.

This cannot be happening.

“Athena!” I say sharply.

But it’s too late. Everyone sees. Everyone points and laughs while dread settles in my stomach.

“Whoa, it’s not that kind of show,” Paula chuckles.

All the while, Athena looks back at me, her tongue lolling out of her mouth. It only takes her a moment to see my trepidation, and she jumps off and sits by me again, nudging my palm with her head.

“I guess it runs in the family,” Micah jokes, his brown gaze cutting to mine again.

Then I die of embarrassment, never to be resuscitated.