It Started with a Dog, page 21
Favorite foods: Hot dogs and peanut butter cookies, neither of which he is allowed to have.
Favorite toy: The remnants of what we think might have been a stuffed shark.
Favorite snoozle spot: On a couch where he can see you and ignore you.
Fun Fact about Bob: He likes to wear sunglasses.
Worst Fact about Bob with silver lining: He was rescued from a dog fight ring and rehabilitated by Austin Canine Coalition.
(Votes to be tallied by ACC and announced during city Mardi Gras celebrations.)
Jonah looked over his shoulder at Bob. The dog was staring at him, like he knew what Jonah was thinking, like he knew Jonah believed there was no way Bob would win King Mutt, but it didn’t matter, because he would bring a lot of people into Deja Brew.
At last, Jonah’s family was ready to go, and they trooped back across the street to the Lucky Star. Once inside, his family began to dissect Deja Brew. “I don’t know about those baskets. I could hardly fit my hips into them.” And “Those Tiny Pies were so TINY.”
Jonah wanted to laugh, but he was still trying to swallow the idea that Deja Brew was going to work circles around them. He didn’t know how to compete with that. He didn’t have artists or vegan options, or a separate frappe station. He didn’t like this. He walked to the front of the store and peered across the street. Bob was in one of the window seats, and from here, it looked as if he was glaring at Jonah.
“We should do that,” Amy said. She had crept up beside him, clad in her puff coat and wearing thick mittens. “We should enter the King Mutt contest. She’s right—people will flock in to pet a dog.”
“Truck isn’t a rescue.”
“God, not Truck. He’d send people screaming into the streets. I’m talking about a rescue dog, like that one.”
“What’s that?” Belinda had joined them.
“I was saying, we should enter the King Mutt contest,” Amy explained. “Get an ACC rescue and beat Deja Brew.”
“But Truck is the Lucky Star dog,” Marty said. Truck, having heard his name, squeezed in between them all, his nose going to each hand, looking for someone to pet him.
“He will always be the Lucky Star dog,” Amy said, scratching his head. “But Truck loves other dogs. I think he’d love to have someone to play with.”
“She’s right,” Belinda said.
Jonah looked at his aunt. “You can’t seriously think getting another dog is the thing that’s going to save us.”
“No, but I think it can help. Why not? They have cat cafés in Japan, you know. Why not a dog café?”
“I don’t know, for all the reasons we don’t let Truck in here very often? Food snatched from plates, horrible licking sounds when people are trying to eat, hair everywhere?”
Jonah’s dad joined them and slid into a chair. He looked exhausted, as if the trip across the street had depleted him. “We’ve got bigger problems that a dog isn’t going to solve.”
“But entering the contest isn’t going to hurt anything and could help,” Belinda pointed out.
“We’re already a burden on Jonah as it is. Let’s not add that to the list.”
“We’re not a burden!” his mother protested, and looked hopefully at Jonah.
Jonah didn’t answer. He loved his family. But they were a burden at this time in his life.
As the rest of them argued about it, Jonah caught his dad’s eye. Maybe he should have been happy that at least one of his parents was listening to him about the true state of the Lucky Star . . . but Jonah didn’t feel happy. He felt confused. He had a strong urge to assure his father they could do this. They could save it.
There was something else, too, that he didn’t want to admit. He really liked Harper. He thought he might be falling in love with her. Or maybe he’d already fallen.
But that didn’t mean he wanted to lose his business to her.
Twenty
Harper was disappointed in the grand opening. It had gone okay by anyone else’s standards, but she’d envisioned streams of people coming into the store. She and Carly had papered the surrounding neighborhood with flyers. They’d placed ads on local television stations and radios until the costs began to get out of hand. Harper had spent more of her budget on advertising than she probably should have, all because she was so determined to prove to Kendal and Soren that she was the best at what she did and, therefore, deserved the promotion.
All it took was a heavy winter rain to ruin what would have otherwise been a spectacular debut.
She closed up shop at about nine, after Suzanna had finished playing the hour she’d squeezed in after being late. Most of the people who had come to hear her left when she did, leaving little frappe cups littered across the floor.
Harper sent the staff home when most of it was picked up, and finished cleaning behind the coffee bar while Bob snoozed on his throne.
She was alone, like she often was, the last person to leave a job, the one who stayed behind and made sure all was in order and ready for business the next day. She did one last pass through the store, then leashed Bob and picked up his throne bed. He’d taken a definite liking to it and had remained there most of the evening, unconcerned with the people who’d tried to befriend him. The only time he’d come off it was to get in Truck’s face. “You better be nice to Truck,” she warned Bob.
He grunted and licked her hand when she bent down to boop his nose.
So the grand opening hadn’t been all that she’d hoped, but at least Harper had Jonah to look forward to. They hadn’t seen each other much this week, all because of what she was trying to do last minute to prepare for this event. She’d had to make the thirty-minute drive to San Marcos late one afternoon to pick up some glassware, but the drive back had taken twice as long because of snarled traffic on the interstate. By the time she’d dropped off the glassware, she’d been summoned to the Domain, where some invoices for the grand opening had to be signed. She’d been too exhausted to see Jonah that night.
The next day was an even bigger blur. Every day, she waited for Jonah to complain about her work hours. When he didn’t, when he appeared to understand her life, she felt . . . grateful. Respected. She felt all the things she’d been taught by romance novels and rom-com movies that you were supposed to feel when you were in love and he loved you back.
Was she in love? All signs were pointing in that direction. Big neon green arrows, pulsing in the direction of Jonah.
Headed your way, she texted him.
She loaded Bob into her car and fastened his ride harness, which Carly had insisted she buy. She bounced into her front seat, squealing at how wet she was. Her phone pinged.
Excellent. Don’t suppose there were any Tiny Pies left? Our master pie baker said they were excellent.
No, Harper texted, with a sad emoji.
A GIF of a crying Will Ferrell popped up.
But lucky for you, I stole four of them before the evening ever began and they are in my tote bag.
The three dots popped up, and then, I think I love you.
Harper stared at those words. Warmth gushed through her. Had he really just typed that out? Did he mean it? Because she loved him, too.
See you in a few.
* * *
Jonah answered the door after just one knock. “Thank God,” he said, taking her by the elbow and pulling her inside. “Truck is driving me crazy.” He kissed her hard on the mouth, pushed back the hood of her coat, and said, “I think I’m suffering from a bad case of separation anxiety.”
Bob, who was standing next to Harper in the open doorway, gave a short yip. Truck realized Bob was there and began to bark. “I’ve missed you, too!” Harper shouted over Truck’s barking. “Are you sure this is okay?”
“No,” he said loudly. “But it was the best idea I could come up with on short notice. Truck! Stop barking!”
Truck stopped. For a minute. And then he started back again with gusto. But Bob wasn’t having it—he suddenly charged Truck, even though he was a fraction of his size, his bark louder and somehow more ferocious. “Bob!” Harper cried.
But Truck’s tail began to wag. He raced around the living room like a loon, sliding and skidding on the wood floor, and then galumphed back with a toy clenched in his jaw. He went down on his belly and presented the toy to Bob. Bob sniffed it, then trotted past Truck and into Jonah’s kitchen. They could hear him drinking from Truck’s water bowl.
“That’s it?” Harper asked. “That’s the end of the fight?”
“I guess so,” Jonah said.
Truck heard Bob, too, and he got up and hurried into the kitchen, going around one end of the kitchen bar as Bob exited the other. He marched right up to Jonah’s couch and crawled up, settling in. When Truck tracked him down, he was so flustered that he started barking to the ceiling, trying to convince Bob that they should play. Bob closed his eyes.
“It’s going well, right?” Jonah asked hopefully.
“I think so?” Harper said.
“Truck!”
Truck stopped barking and laid his head on the ground and looked wistfully at Bob, his tail doing a slow sweep of the floor behind him.
“Want a drink?” Jonah asked.
“Oh my God, yes.”
He led her into the kitchen and opened a bottle of wine. He put some chips and salsa into bowls, too. “Thank you,” she said, dipping a chip. “I was so busy today that I didn’t have time to eat, and then I worried all day I would starve, and look, here I am, starving.” She took the wrapped pies from her tote bag and put them on the kitchen bar.
“You are one perfect woman,” Jonah said. He lifted his glass and touched hers. “Congratulations on your opening.”
Harper snorted and sipped the wine. “Thank you. I wish it hadn’t been raining. We would have packed the place.”
Jonah shrugged. “Maybe. Opening is tomorrow?”
“Nine o’clock sharp.”
“Nine?” Jonah laughed.
“Why is that funny? I want to make sure everything is ready.”
“I don’t know. People who drink coffee are often early risers.”
Jonah’s explanation struck her as something Kendal would say. Jonah was running a diner, which wasn’t the same thing as an upscale, artisan coffeehouse. “I know the habits of people who drink coffee,” she said pertly. “We need to get new staff in and comfortable with everything. After this week, we’ll be opening earlier.”
Jonah said nothing.
In an attempt to change the tone, she asked, “How about you? How was business today?”
“Not great.” He slid his palm over the top of his head. He seemed a little . . . what, unhappy? Not exactly. Anxious? “Our receipts have been awful this year. I’m not sure what’s going on.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Maybe it’s the time of year?”
“Maybe,” he said with a shrug.
What was with all the maybes?
Jonah sipped his wine. “Tiny Pies, huh?” He picked one up.
“Have you thought about doing frozen coffee drinks? They are so popular,” she suggested. “And the margins are fantastic.”
He looked up from his study of the pies. “We’re not going to do frappes.”
He said it as if frappes were some unsavory, possibly unethical thing. “Okay,” she said. “I was just trying to think of ways to help you.”
A bitter laugh escaped him. “You know how you can help? Don’t open Deja Brew.”
Harper tried to laugh, but she wasn’t sure that was actually a joke. “I know it seems like we are going to ruin you, but honestly, I think there is room for both of us on South Congress Avenue.” The minute those words left her mouth, she realized how they must sound to Jonah. Like she was patronizing him. And sure enough, he looked up with a frown.
“What?”
“I’m just trying to say that it’s not really a competition.” Nope. Still wrong. She waved a hand, trying to erase that. She was just tired, that was all. “Sorry, this isn’t coming out right.”
“Nope,” he agreed. “You don’t have to make it sound like the Star is on life support.”
Well, wasn’t it? He’d just told her sales were awful. She didn’t like his accusatory tone. She took a big slug of her wine. Was she supposed to pretend she didn’t see the issue with his family’s dated business? Was she supposed to behave as if she didn’t get what it meant when he’d taken a sabbatical from his job to help save the family business? “That is not what I meant, but . . . I had the impression from the things you’ve said that you’re struggling. And . . . you know, I’ve been in your store.”
Jonah blinked. He put his glass down. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Harper put her glass down, too. “I’m sorry, Jonah, but your diner is a little dated.”
His eyes narrowed. “It’s not a diner, it’s a coffee shop. And you just offered an opinion that I didn’t ask for. I know you think you’ve got the market cornered, Harper, but there is more than one way to skin the coffee cat.”
She stood up off her stool and walked to the end of the bar, where he was standing, and squared off with him. “First, gross, and two, Deja Brew is a coffeehouse. And I don’t think I have the market cornered, I’m only trying to say that we have two different types of stores, and I don’t know why you are assuming I am trying to put you down. I thought we weren’t going to let this be a problem between us.”
“It’s not a problem,” he said curtly. “Why should it be a problem that your coffeehouse could put our coffee shop out of business? We’ll just have to go on the offensive.”
Harper’s mouth gaped. “On the offensive? Are you kidding me right now? What does that even mean?”
“I don’t know what it means—I just know that I am not going to let my family’s livelihood die because a new place is selling overpriced coffee and frappes.”
Harper blinked. She folded her arms across her body, suddenly defensive. She was annoyed, but she didn’t know how to have this fight. It had come out of nowhere, and it felt lopsided, and it made her mad. “I hope you take this in the constructive way I intend it, but your coffee shop is going to fail with or without Deja Brew if you don’t bring it into the twenty-first century.”
Jonah’s face darkened. “So let me see if I have this right. You are an expert on the Lucky Star after, what, four years in the coffeehouse business?”
“No. But I’m very good at what I do, and you need some expert help to turn it around.”
He shifted closer, his gaze boring through hers. “You know what, Harper? You’ve done me a great favor because I suddenly feel enlightened. No more of this fatalistic bullshit I’ve been walking around with since Christmas. The Lucky Star is an Austin institution, and not some artsy-fartsy shop of egg baskets.”
Harper gasped. “I feel bad for you and your family. But your institution is as old as the dawn of time and, for reasons I cannot comprehend, is anti-frappe and dresses Roy Rogers for the holidays.”
“You leave Roy Rogers out of this. You can be really arrogant, you know that?”
Her skin felt inflamed. Her head was spinning with anger, but her heart was pounding with hurt. “I’m arrogant? What about you? You seem to think I should just lock the doors and go home because it’s going to make things hard for you. Well, I’m not closing any doors, Jonah, obviously. Even if I did, Soren would hire someone to open it back up again. Why are we fighting about this?”
“Because I don’t like the way you look down at my family’s business. And for all I know, you’re going to achieve your goal,” he said, mimicking her and the things she’d told him, “and leave the Lucky Star wreckage in your wake.”
She was stunned. She stared at him, and he stared back.
“At least I’m not going to be a martyr and let my dreams and aspirations pass me by.”
Jonah’s face darkened. “That’s unfair.”
“Oh, and what you’ve said is fair?” She grabbed her purse. “I think I’m going to go now.”
“Not a bad idea,” he snapped.
She couldn’t believe this was happening. She couldn’t believe that she’d driven over here, realizing she was in love, and was now feeling the sting of rejection or whatever it was sliding through her on a wave of hot molten lava. “Come on, Bob,” she said, and dug his leash out of her purse.
Bob slid off the couch and trotted over, as if he sensed this was urgent. She expected Jonah to stop her. She expected him to at least follow her out to her car and apologize for letting his emotions get the best of him.
He didn’t try to stop her. He didn’t follow her. He didn’t say anything at all and quietly shut the door behind her.
Harper was almost hyperventilating by the time she reached home. The rain had let up, and she took Bob to sniff around the dog areas in the complex, and when he’d finished what he had to do, she took him to her apartment.
She called her parents, needing to hear a familiar voice. Her mother answered after several rings, but Harper could hardly hear her over the crackling noise.
“Harper, honey, is that you?”
“Mom, I need to talk!” Harper said.
“Honey, I can’t hear you! We’re in China! Is this an emergency? Are you in the hospital?”
“The hospital? No, Mom, I’m—”
“Let me call you back when we get to Beijing! The reception is terrible!” The line went dead.
Harper tried Olivia’s number, but it immediately rolled to voice mail. Of course it did. It was a Saturday night and she was probably on a date.
Harper could not sit here and ruminate about Jonah, or else she would go crazy or fall to pieces. So she moved into task mode, which had always served her—busy hands, quiet thoughts. She was like a robot, setting up Bob’s bed and putting out a water bowl, and laying out the striped shirt she intended to dress him in tomorrow. And then there were no more tasks, but none were enough. The weight of their argument began to sink her.
