It Started with a Dog, page 5
“We won’t, Mommy!” Olivia assured her. Harper’s mother walked on and Olivia whispered, “Does she think we’re thirteen?”
Harper’s father was right behind her mother. He wandered into the living room with a pint of ice cream. He consumed a couple of healthy spoonfuls as they watched. “Dad?” Harper asked.
“Yep. Turn the lights off, Harper, will you?” he asked. “We’ve got to get up early tomorrow. We’ve going to drop Mimi off then do some shopping before our big trip.”
“Big trip? What big trip? I haven’t heard about a big trip.”
“Didn’t your mother tell you? We’re leaving for a Mediterranean cruise on Thursday. Two full weeks. Then we’re home for about a week and off to China with our travel group.”
They were leaving a full three days before she’d planned to return to Austin and wouldn’t be home until when? Why was it so hard for them to keep her in the loop?
“Night,” her father said, and wandered back into the hall.
“They’re going again, huh?” Olivia said. “No one travels as much as your parents.”
“I know.” Harper tried not to sound bitter, but . . . why couldn’t they just tell her these things?
“Phone guy,” Olivia reminded her.
“Okay, but first, phone dog,” Harper said. She picked up the phone, but just then it suddenly pinged, startling them. A calendar reminder popped up on the screen. Ed was all it said.
“Suspicious,” Olivia said.
“An appointment reminder is suspicious?”
“Forget the dog, let’s see him.”
Harper opened the phone and tapped on the photo box. Dozens of photos popped up and she scrolled through them, landing on the Halloween costume first. Olivia laughed. She pointed to another of the photo squares. “That one.”
Harper tapped on it to bring it to full screen. It was the same man from the Halloween photo, but in this one, he was dressed in street clothes and had his arm around a woman. He was grinning at the camera.
“Oh my God, Harper! He’s hot.”
He was hot. And he was charming in his texts. And online, because of course she’d checked out his Instagram and Twitter accounts (both tame) and had looked to see what he was streaming on Netflix (The Office—points for having a sense of humor). She had not, however, opened his e-mail. That was definitely an invasion of privacy, and she had to draw the line somewhere or question everything she thought she knew about herself.
The man smiling at them in this photo was tall and dark-haired, gray-eyed, and fit. He had a lovely smile, all white teeth and a single dimple. In the photo, his arm was draped lazily around the woman’s shoulders, his hand dangling just above her breast.
“Girlfriend?” Olivia mused. “Must be. Look how his arm is around her—that’s not a casual acquaintance.”
No, it didn’t seem so. How disappointing.
“But just because he has a girlfriend—”
“Or a wife,” Harper said.
“A girlfriend,” Olivia continued, “doesn’t mean he’s not open to meeting other people, you know.”
Harper sputtered a laugh. “That’s exactly what a girlfriend means. It means you have committed, that you are not open to meeting other girls. And second, why are we having this conversation? It’s not like I have time to even think about him.”
“No one is that busy. Literally no one!”
Harper groaned. “I know, I know, I don’t date enough, I don’t want a boyfriend enough, I’m not like you.”
“You don’t have to be like me. But what about sex?” Olivia demanded. “Surely you’re into that.”
It wasn’t that Harper lacked desire. But it wasn’t at the forefront of her mind all the time—at least not like it seemed to be at the forefront of Olivia’s. She talked about it like she thought about it ten times a day. “Fair point,” Harper said. “But there are tools to help with that if necessary.”
“First of all, TMI,” Olivia said, holding up one perfectly manicured finger. “And two, it’s not the same, Harper. It’s just not.”
It really wasn’t the same.
The phone suddenly pinged. This was a text that included a picture of a newspaper spread open to the ads section. Sweetie, Kohl’s is having an after Xmas sale starting tomorrow. Do you need some underwear or socks? 75% off. I’ll pick some up for you but need to know sizes. Don’t ignore me, Joe—you cannot beat these prices.
Harper and Olivia looked at the screen. Then at each other. And burst into howls of laughter.
“Does he have, like, an unhealthy attachment to his mother?” Olivia asked, gasping for air from laughing so hard. “Which is only okay because he is so cute. Anyway, I’m bored now that I’ve seen him. Let’s go out.”
“It’s Christmas night,” Harper complained. “Nothing is open.”
“You’d be surprised.” Olivia pulled out her phone and turned on the camera to check herself out.
Harper had no doubt that she would be surprised. She clicked the phone shut and got up to get ready.
* * *
The next morning, Harper was doing what felt like a month’s worth of laundry when the phone pinged. It was a text from Jonah.
Hope you had a great Christmas. Mine was pretty good until my cousin found that bottle of scotch he’d been saving for a special occasion. Wanted you to know that Oakwood Gynecology and Obstetrics thought it imperative to remind you at 6:15 this a.m. that you have an appointment on the 15th. Shall I press Y to confirm or N to reschedule?
Lord. Y to confirm, please.
Shall any emojis accompany this reply?
Ah, so he’d noticed her overreliance on emojis. Yes. Obviously the doctor emoji and the smiley face with the mask.
Obviously.
She smiled. This is great timing! Because you got a text from your mom. She is going to shop the sales at Kohl’s and would like to know what size underwear you need. Boxers or briefs? The last question had not come from his mother, but Harper had a burning curiosity.
The question was met with silence. Harper held her breath. Had she gone too far? Dammit, she’d gone too far. This was her problem—she never understood the rules of the game. Which annoyed her, as she really liked Jonah and she hadn’t meant to insult his mother and she really, really wanted to see his dog.
She began to type out a profuse apology, but a text suddenly pinged. Sorry—I died for about a minute and only the urgent need to tell you my mother does not buy my underwear brought me back to life.
Harper laughed.
This is so awkward, he texted. My mom can be a little out there. I told her I didn’t have my phone.
Harper turned on the dryer and leaned against it. I don’t think she got the message. She texted several times yesterday. Mostly with pictures of presents (you got a sweater) and food (she made your favorite cobbler).
Jonah sent an emoji of exasperation. Damn. I do love that cobbler. So I don’t know how to say this, especially since I don’t know you, but I really need you to understand that I am not as weird as my phone must make me seem. I swear I’m a normal kind of guy and really need us to be on the same page about that, so I submit exhibit A from your phone as a friendly reminder that we all have stuff. What followed was a picture Olivia had taken of her during a girls’ trip to New York a couple of years ago. Harper had awakened in borrowed, too small, onesie pajamas (she’d forgot to bring her own), and after tossing and turning in a bed as hard as a slab of marble, she’d had some serious bed head and mascara smeared under her eyes.
Harper burst out in laughter. Yes, everyone had stuff. That is so unfair, she texted. At least you can blame your stuff on your mom.
Are we even?
Harper was still grinning. We are even. Still, I think you should let your mother know your underwear needs. It seemed really important to her.
A laughing emoji. Moms, amiright? Let me know if she sends anything else and in the meantime, I’ll give her a call and REMIND her that I don’t have my phone. Boxer briefs, BTW. Smiley face.
That made her blush. Yessir, Harper was definitely looking forward to meeting this guy.
She put the phone down and carried on with the laundry until the phone pinged again. She had to laugh—this was a text from “Dad” in Jonah’s contacts list. Cowboys play Philadelphia Monday Night Football. You coming? She forwarded the text to Jonah.
Oh my GOD, he texted back, along with an exploding head emoji. Do they listen to anything I say?
And so it continued.
When someone named Caden texted him about girlfriend troubles, she forwarded that, too, with her own take. I’m no expert, but I have to say that if a guy gave me a fishing rod for Christmas, I would not be happy. Not gonna lie.
He texted back, AGREED.
He texted her with news about a New Year’s Eve party from Allison Mitchell, an acquaintance of hers. Harper asked him: Can you text her and tell her I can’t make it with a suitable sad face emoji? Not the teardrop one, just the usual frown. We’re not that good of friends, lol.
He texted her a range of sad faces to choose from, and after some discussion, they jointly agreed just a regular down-turned smile was the right one for the occasion.
Harper’s parents left for their cruise midweek and told her to be sure and leave the envelope on the kitchen bar for the cat sitter. Harper decided it was time to go back to Austin. She was packing up to leave the next morning when she got a text from Jonah. I’m heading back to town tomorrow to get my new socks and underwear. Can’t wait. When are you back?
In the morning, she texted. What part of town do you live in? Maybe we could meet for a drink and exchange phones. She hit Send before she could talk herself out of the invitation. She’d enjoyed this banter between them, and she really did want to meet the dog, but he probably did have a girlfriend or a wife and she held her breath, already kicking herself for asking and making it sound like a date. For heaven’s sake, she hadn’t even realized she had so much riding on this, but she felt stupid and hopeful and . . .
I’m in Crestview. What about you?
She squealed softly with delight. The Triangle.
Got it. Hope this doesn’t come across as show-offy, but how about the Dive Bar and Lounge on Guadalupe? First Lone Star beer (happy hour, 99c) is on me!
Harper grinned. A dive bar AND a Lone Star? Are you trying to impress me? How does 5 sound?
Sounds like happy hour to me. See you there New Year’s Day.
Any chance your dog can come?
He responded with a line of laughing emojis.
She texted, P.S. You may not recognize me because I will have combed my hair.
I’m pretty sure I will recognize you after seeing all the mirror selfies.
Harper cringed. Nooo! I had forgotten about those!
Harper . . . never forget about the mirror selfies.
Wide-eyed emoji, laughing emoji.
Four
Jonah had never imagined that the highlight of his break would come from text-flirting with a woman he had yet to actually meet. It was like one of those dating reality shows, where you talk first and meet later. But after a frustrating, tangled slog of a year, it had been a very pleasant surprise. Most of his days were filled with the dread of what bills were owed, or depression at looking at the day’s receipts and knowing that the latest effort to bring in business had failed. The switch in phones had been initially frustrating, but had turned into something new and different. It was nice to have something to look forward to, and he’d looked forward to every text from her.
Harper was funny. He liked people who made him laugh, and he especially liked women who made him laugh. And she was cute, too, from what he’d seen between her Instagram and mirror selfies and the picture of her with the wild hair and raccoon eyes.
To say he was excited to meet her in person was an understatement.
He positioned himself outside the Dive Bar and Lounge and watched people on the street. Would he recognize her? People used so many photo filters online that sometimes they didn’t look quite the same in real life.
He needn’t have worried—he knew her the moment he saw her. She wore boots over tights, a T-shirt beneath a chunky cardigan, and the enormous tote he recalled from the night in the Lyft van. She was seriously cute. She reminded him of the girl you’d lived next door to all your life and then one day she was suddenly all grown up and hot.
She fairly blew in his direction on a strong gust of northern wind. “Hey!” she called, waving. She recognized him, too.
Jonah pushed away from the wall he was leaning against and waved back. She grinned, and picked up her step like she was running to meet an old friend. She had a long braid of light coppery brown hair over one shoulder, and when she got closer, he noticed the smile in her big, Coke bottle green eyes. They actually sparkled. Maybe he was seeing things, and maybe the sun hit her just right, but that looked like a sparkle to him, and it made him feel warm all over.
“You must be Harper.” Who else would she be? He could really sound like a dolt sometimes, and act like it, too, because he leaned in without thinking, his instinct to kiss her cheek because he felt like he knew her. He instantly realized his mistake and reared back with a strange pat to her shoulder.
She laughed. “You must be Jonah.” She peered up at him.
“Not what you were expecting?” he asked with a bit of a nervous laugh. Did he look different? Did she like what she saw?
“You are totally what I was expecting,” she assured him. “It’s just weird to actually see you in person.”
“Oh. Ah . . .”
“I mean, you’re bigger than I thought. Taller.” She lifted a hand overhead. “And . . . like, realer. Which is not a word, obviously, but, you know.”
He did know. “You look realer, too.” He almost said prettier. “It’s really great to meet you, Harper. I am excited to treat you to that 99 cent Lone Star beer.” He gestured to the door of the bar.
“You better treat me. I slogged all the way here for it.”
“What was that, a full ten-minute drive from The Triangle?”
“Seven! No traffic.” She grinned.
So did he. He opened the door to the establishment.
They took two seats at the bar, away from the pinball machine. The place was fairly empty but still had the musty smell of booze from the night before. A bartender appeared and tossed down two coasters on the bar in front of them. “Happy New Year. What are you having?”
“And a Happy New Year to you,” Jonah said. Jesus, he sounded like Uncle Marty walking through the store. “This is a big day for us, so we’re going to celebrate with a couple of Lone Stars. Cans, not bottles, of course.” He looked to Harper for confirmation.
“Of course. I must have the metallic taste of can in my beer.”
The bartender opened a cooler just beneath the bar. “What are you celebrating? An engagement?”
They both laughed so loudly and shook their heads so adamantly that the few people in the bar turned to see what was going on. “We don’t even know each other,” Harper said. “Honestly, had it not been for a dog, I’m not sure I would have come.”
“I get that a lot,” Jonah said. “Truck is a very appealing dog. In theory.”
“He’s adorable! And I have to confess, I feel safe meeting the guy who put a dog like that in reindeer antlers. That guy can’t be an ax murderer, am I right?” she asked the bartender.
“Odds would be against it. You two like anything besides the beer?” He opened one can and set it in front of Harper, and then the other, which he set in front of Jonah.
“Just a sec.” Harper held up a finger and turned to Jonah. “Beers are great, but . . . are we maybe selling this occasion short?”
He didn’t know what she meant at first, but then he recalled her Instagram account. “I think I know where you’re going with this. Want to take it up a notch?”
The sparkle exploded in Harper’s eyes again. “Just so there’s no confusion, what does ‘take it up a notch’ mean to you?”
He snorted. “Chips and salsa, obviously.”
“Yes! How did you know?”
Harper’s laugh of delight tickled all of his senses. “I’m no amateur, ma’am. Plus, your Instagram account is full of pictures of food and none of it healthy.”
“That’s because I’m a human garbage disposal. Smother something in cheese and I will devour it.”
Jonah said to the bartender, “A basket of chips. And a couple of glasses for the beer, if you don’t mind. First impressions and all that.”
“Coming right up.”
Harper twisted on her stool to face Jonah. “Isn’t this strange? I mean, I feel like I know you, and yet you’re a complete stranger.”
“It’s strange and awesome. What did you figure out about me?”
“Well, obviously, you have a dog you love a lot. You have only a few pictures on Instagram and most are of him. My favorite picture is him floating on a yellow duckie float in the lake.”
“Truck does enjoy his leisure time.”
“And because you don’t have a lot of pictures, I have surmised you are not into social media.”
He had to laugh. “Busted. What else?”
“Your mother buys your underwear at Kohl’s—”
“Correction,” he said, putting a hand up. “I was very clear that I do my own underwear shopping.”
“True. Allow me to rephrase—I know your mom is desperate to buy you some underwear and that your parents are a hoot. Those videos!” She giggled.
He liked her mouth. Full lips, expressive smiles. “Hoot is definitely not the word that I’m usually reaching for when I think of my parents, but I can see how they might appear that way to others. What else?” And he liked the way her brows arched perfectly above her eyes. They were supposed to do that, yes, but they looked really cool on her, especially the one that seemed to rise above the other when she was making a point.
