a gray T-shirt that said Bride over slim white jeans. They were all blond, save one.
“Isn’t this the cutest puppy?” one of the bridesmaids gushed.
“Yes,” Carly agreed, tilting her head to one side. Bubbles—or, as she was known in the land of denim, Hazel—was an adorable dog, and she had to admit, especially in a tutu. Why not? She pulled out her phone and snapped a couple of pictures to post on her social media later. That would be two problems solved today: finding Baxter and finding something to post. Megan Monroe would say that made this day better than the last day but not as good as tomorrow could be.
“They wanted him to look like he was part of the bridal party,” Phil explained.
“Her,” Carly corrected.
Phil snorted as he set up the camera. “If it’s a her, why’d you name her Baxter? Okay, ladies, if you would, please lean in,” he said. “Someone hold the dog.”
Hazel happily sat in the middle of them, her long pink tongue hanging out the side of her mouth for the camera.
Denim Man with the arresting gray eyes and photogenic dog named Hazel was a curious man. She wondered what else was curious about him. Probably loads. Probably everything he did was curious. He was probably a mess in general, because, come on, feeding a dog in the living room?
“Lean in a little more and look here,” Phil instructed, holding his hand up above his head.
To be fair, Carly had had it in for Tobias Sheffington III the moment Kai had handed her the list of Brant’s clients. Standing in a dingy apartment near campus, he’d handed her an even dingier sheet of paper, onto which someone had written their names, their addresses, and their dogs. Carly had scanned the list:
Mr. Alvarez—beagle.
Tammy Pachenko—2 pit bull/lab/kitchen-sink types.
Molly Davis—Labrador, yellow.
Justin Carmine—dachshund, old.
Carly Kennedy—basset, fat.
Tobias Sheffington III—basset, skinny.
Carly had gasped with indignation on Baxter’s behalf. “My dog is not fat,” she’d said to Kai. “He’s big-boned.”
Kai had shrugged and coughed, and suddenly everything smelled like stale pot.
Carly had stewed about Brant’s list all the way to the Sheffington house. Forget that Baxter probably had been tossed into an overgrown backyard and told to fend for himself while she’d provided all the comforts of home to Bubbles—Brant thought Baxter was the fat basset. Well, Hazel wasn’t missing any meals, that was certain.
Mr. Sheffington had a dark scruff of beard, too. Like he’d had to dash out to the denim store to make a bulk purchase and hadn’t had time to shave. And the knit cap he was wearing looked like he’d gotten it out of a bargain bin about fifteen years ago and worn it every day since. He’d stood in his doorway with an expression of confusion, and then surprise, and then, he’d had the nerve to let his gaze travel the length of her. His brows sort of dipped into confusion, and she knew without a single word from him that he did not understand haute couture. Yes, she was wearing an oddity that looked like a futuristic space suit, but still, she should have been afforded the benefit of the doubt.
Except that no one afforded her the benefit of the doubt when she was wearing Victor Allen, she’d noticed.
Well, anyway, Tobias Sheffington III, who was really Max, didn’t have to look at her like she’d just walked out of a big silver pod that had bounced into his yard after falling from the sky. There was something about him that was seriously cute, and when she met seriously cute men, she liked to think—
“Earth to Carly!”
Carly jumped.
Phil was staring at her. “Will you hand me that lens?” he asked, gesturing to a round black thing on top of his camera bag.
Carly handed it to him. “Sorry to be a party pooper, but I have to take the dog and go. I found Baxter!”
“What are you talking about?” Phil muttered as he squinted into the camera sight.
Carly rolled her eyes. “Should I just leave the tutu on a rock or something?”
“Oh, that’s from me!” the bride said. “I didn’t want him to feel left out.”
How did all these adults fail to recognize that was not a male dog?
The bride leaned over and scratched Hazel behind the ears. “You can keep it! Thank you for letting us use him!”
“Come on, Hazel!”
The dog, who had been completely absorbed in the bride, jerked around so hard at the sound of her name that her ears flew out like helicopter