Page 6

Raeann

T ab and I hold hands while the label printer spits shipping label after shipping label of all the orders that need to go out.

It’s been two weeks since I was on The Paula Show , one week since Tab made a GIF of Athena humping Micah Freeman with the title, “Pet Threads: Where Pet Needs Come First” overlaid, and six weeks since the most embarrassing video ever went viral—and continues to be seen—and this is the largest order day we’ve ever had.

Ever.

I don’t know who starts to jump up and down first, but we’re squealing and jumping before nine a.m. when the paper trail falls to the floor. So many names and addresses. So many people who saw Pet Threads’ clothes and thought they were good enough to order. Also, let’s face it. So. Much. Money.

That part has been the most overwhelming. That and trying to keep stock in. The truth is, I don’t know how to have money. I don’t know anything other than living on barely anything and scraping by. There is more money in our business account right now than I’ve ever seen in my entire life.

My train of thought goes off the rails, and before long, I’ve stopped jumping and my hand is over my mouth while tears track down my cheeks. I draw in a ragged breath.

Tab gets teary-eyed too, then places her arms around me until my face is buried in her brown hair. “I know, I know. You’re getting upset because you don’t want to hear me say ‘I told you so’ about uploading the video.”

I crack a smile and push her away playfully. She doesn’t let me get very far, though. She gives me one of her signature lopsided smiles, and I squeeze her hands that she puts in mine. “You believed in me when no one else did.”

“Of course I did. What are friends for?”

I wipe the tears from my face before flinging my arms around her again. She hugs me back just as hard. I want to pinch myself because I think we may have changed our lives forever.

She steps back. “Okay, one, we need to hire an employee. Two, we have to figure out how much stock to reorder, and three?” If possible, her smile gets wider, those blue eyes of hers shining brighter. “We should think about hiring an accountant.”

“An accountant. That sounds so fancy.”

“The fanciest.”

She lets my hands go, kneels, and starts gathering the printed labels from the floor. I don’t know what I would do without her. I’m still processing everything while she’s already jumping into action.

She lifts her arm and holds up four fingers. “We’re going to need more shipping supplies.”

More ? Disbelief thrums through me. “I thought we ordered some a couple of days ago?”

“Not enough for these,” she singsongs, piling them up. “Here’s what we’re going to do: I’ll start picking these, and you do a reorder of the items that are out of stock or are estimated to be out of stock soon, then you can start packaging.”

I watch as she stacks label after label in her fist. “This is going to take forever.”

“And we open in two hours.”

I peer toward the front of the store. The early morning light shines in through the windows, highlighting the different outfits I designed.

Handkerchiefs, leashes, collars, we even partnered with a local baker who makes safe, organic dog treats.

Athena approved, of course. Just as I think her name, she lifts her head from her dog bed in the corner, the perfect swath of sunlight illuminating her.

Since opening the store, she’s dubbed that place her morning spot.

Who knew a dog would change my life in so many ways? First, by saving it, then by inspiring the idea that spurred on the first dress, then the store, then meeting Micah Freeman, then…

Wait, that’s not right. Since when did meeting Micah get added to my list of things to be grateful for?

“Are you staring wistfully at the store again?” Tab asks.

I clear my throat. “Maybe.” Her voice spurs me to get moving. We won’t be finished fulfilling these orders before we open, but if we don’t start now, we won’t be done by the time the store closes either. Especially since we’ve had an uptick in foot traffic since the video as well.

I sit at the computer in the back and reorder the out of stock and almost out of stock, just like Tab asked, noting the style and seeing if there’s anything particularly popular. All good things to keep in mind for growth. If people want glitter dresses, I’ll give them more glitter dresses.

When I’m done, I stand at the end of the assembly line-esque table that Tab and I agreed was the best to get orders out more effectively and efficiently and start gathering shipping materials.

“Have you heard from him?” Tab asks.

“Who?” The question comes out of my mouth, but it’s not hard to guess who she means, which is probably why she stays silent.

When I look over at her, she rolls her eyes.

“Oh, you mean the man who hijacked my phone and who my best friend had no qualms about giving my most private information to? He could be a stalker.”

“Clearly he’s not because he hasn’t asked you out again.”

I don’t know why her words send disappointment through me. Not having a stalker is usually the thing a girl can get behind.

“You should ask him.”

“Yeah, right,” I scoff. He sends me at least one text per day, and I have to think long and hard before I answer.

“Rae-bae. May I remind you that the man upgraded your room to the penthouse , he sent Athena a gift basket, and then offered to fly you home…on a private jet.”

“I drove. How was I supposed to get my car home? Plus, it was all overwhelming. The interview, Athena humping his leg, then him asking me for drinks? It all sounded crazy in my head.”

“What’s crazy is that you thought it was crazy.”

“Oh well,” I say, my tone portraying finality as my anxiety spikes. “What’s done is done.”

Tab doesn’t say more after that. Though, that doesn’t mean she won’t bring it up again.

She’s somehow managed to weave it into nearly every conversation since I got back.

She really expects him to ask me out again someday.

But every day that goes by that he doesn’t only proves my original thought: He just wanted an easy lay.

My video practically gave him a blaring green light.

He won’t waste his time on someone he actually has to work to get to know.

Even while I’m filling my head with all these excuses, they don’t feel right. Like I’m lying to myself. Unease crawls over my skin, but I can’t tell where the lie is. Is it that he’s actually a player? Or is it the fact that I’m telling myself I’m not waiting for him to ask me out?

Sometime after lunch, Tab leaves for the post office with the orders that weren’t ready when our pickup time came.

While she’s gone, I help a few customers who bring their dogs into the store, which is always my highlight of the day.

When Tab returns, I’m ringing someone up who purchased a couple hundred dollars’ worth of outfits for an adorable beagle, which reminds me that I wanted to start a reward system for loyal customers.

I make myself a note on the notepad next to me when Tab plops down a stack of mail.

“We really have to remember to check our PO box.”

My eyes bulge out of my head. “All this?”

“That’s just yours. My stack is equally as big.”

I rummage through it. Luckily, fifty percent of it is junk mail, but then a beautiful, handwritten envelope catches my attention.

I open it and find an invitation to a fundraiser for this weekend from The Pet Coalition, a charity that we give ten percent of all sales to.

Fancy plated dinner. An auction. They want Athena and me to attend as special guests of honor.

“Look at you, you local celebrity!” Tab calls from the back.

“You got the invitation, too?”

“Yeah, I’ll close up that day, then meet you guys there. But we need an employee!”

“Isn’t there some website where you can look at résumés and contact them? Or do we have to do the whole job-posting thing?”

The bell above the door sounds, and I peer up and smile. “Welcome to Pet Th?—”

The rest of the words die in my throat.

It’s Micah Freeman. He’s walking into my store.

“Did you choke?” Tab calls out, laughing.

“No, she’s just struck silent again,” Micah answers.

He struts inside, taking off a pair of designer sunglasses and revealing his golden-brown eyes.

A plain white T-shirt hugs his biceps. Paired with jeans, he should be a normal guy off the street, but instead, he looks like a movie star walking down Hollywood Boulevard.

It only takes a few seconds for Tab to appear at my back, and Athena also rises to her feet for almost the first time today.

She jumps on Micah, stretching while her paws grip his chest. He gives her a good head rub, getting that spot behind her ears, before she jumps off and goes back to her afternoon nap.

“Are you going to say anything?”

I blink a few times to make sure movement is actually possible, then I try my mouth next. “Hi.” It comes out bland and cautionary instead of any sort of excited or happy.

He frowns a little.

“Hi, I’m Tabitha, but everyone calls me Tab.”

He shakes Tab’s offered hand, not taking his eyes off me but for a moment to thank her for giving him my number.

“She thinks I’m a traitor,” Tab responds.

I press my foot onto hers, not above maiming her in this instant.

“I just wanted to come by to see your place.”

“You should give him a tour!” Tab suggests, pulling her foot out from under mine so I can’t press down any harder than I already am. She then gives me a slight push, and I stumble toward the end of the counter.

I clear my throat and start walking Micah around. He’s as handsome in person as I remember. His hair isn’t as styled, just messy and sexy. This close, the veins in his arm muscles pop, and I have to drag my gaze away before I start drooling.

We pause in the teacup dog section when I realize I still haven’t said anything yet. “I don’t remember telling you where my shop was.”

“It wasn’t hard to look up. Pet Threads and Nashville did the trick.”

I nod slowly while I give him the spiel about the different store sections like I would if a new customer walked in.

He waits and smiles good-naturedly. “This is a nice place, Raeann.”

“Thanks. We worked really hard,” I admit. “New flooring, painting, décor.” I let my eyes wander around the store, imagining what it used to look like.

“I hope the interview with Paula increased sales.”

“Maybe…a little,” I answer offhandedly. I get distrusting when talking about money with people I don’t know.

“She’s being modest. We’re fucking killing it,” Tab shouts from the back.

Micah grins, the gold in his eyes nearly glittering. “I’m proud of you.”

“Proud of me? But you don’t really know me.”

He shrugs. “I see a hardworking woman who started her own business, who has her own physical store, and is clearly doing well with marketing.”

“That’s Tab’s department.”

“She’s being?—”

“Modest, I get that now,” Micah finishes Tab’s sentence without looking her way. He steps close to me again, and those same feelings that rose up when we were at the studio in New York are there again. “So, we’re both home…”

I swallow. “It looks that way.”

“What are you doing this weekend?”

“I actually have a charity fundraiser to go to.”

His gaze belies a moment of disappointment. “I’m trying to figure out if you’re telling the truth or if you’re just not interested.”

“She’s telling the truth.”

I shoot Tab a look over my shoulder, and she immediately glances away, acting as if she’s doing something at the front desk and not straining to hear what we’re talking about.

Micah chuckles. “That’s good to know. I was beginning to think you were never going to give me a shot. I wouldn’t blame you. A girl like you…”

“A girl like me?”

“Beautiful. Strong. Motivated.”

“And you’re not?”

Micah scratches at the five-o’clock shadow on his jaw with a grin. “See, now you just fell into my trap.”

“What’s that?” I ask, heart pounding. Trapped is exactly what I feel like when I’m around him. Like I’m ensnared by his stare. Overpowered by his essence.

“I wanted to know what you really think of me.”

“You’re taller than I imagined.”

“I get that a lot.” His gaze tracks down my body and then back up.

Instead of uniforms, Tab and I decided we would wear half aprons that we could keep dog treats in or small fabric samples.

They have the Pet Thread logo on the front with three individual pockets across.

I’m suddenly wishing we had decided on no real uniform at all.

“Cute,” he says, like he knew exactly what I was thinking. “Is that Athena on your logo?”

I nod. “We had an artist draw it from a picture I took of her when we first moved into the apartment in Nashville.”

“My apartment,” Tab butts in as if she’s part of the conversation.

“Alright already. We don’t need to give him our entire life story.”

Micah steps even closer. His presence is like a shroud of heat, all-encompassing, stealing any rational thought. “I don’t need your life story yet,” he says, voice low. He places his sunglasses back on. “But it will end with us, Raeann Gorman.”

He takes his sultry voice and thought-stealing looks and walks out of my store. The bell above the door rings, and I melt to the floor. The click - click - click of Athena’s nails against the tile greets me before she approaches and lies next to me, putting her muzzle on my shoulder.

“Are you dead?” Tab calls out.

“Nearly.”

“Good. While you’re there, check to see if we actually have two of the pink Paw Princess dresses in teacup.”

I turn my head to check that rack when she says, “Oh, and I told you so. He didn’t just text. He showed up.”

That. He. Did.