Page 7 of Collars & Kittens
Occupation: Part-time yoga instructor,full-time cat mom.
Despite the low odds of being selected, I feel a little giddy as I fill out the rest of the form. I add in some flirty comments about how Agnes and I need some excitement in our lives. The last question gives me pause.
Question: Share a list of your household pets, their names, and what they mean to you.
This one had to be something Dalton wrote in since it’s not really a question. At first glance, the request is boring. Yet, the invitation to discuss ‘what they mean to me’ subtly hints that he’s hunting for an animal lover. He’s already met Agnes, so talking about her wouldn’t be memorable. I need to dazzle him.
I tap my fingertips on the edge of my laptop while I contemplate how to answer. When a brilliant idea tickles my fancy, I giggle and spend twenty minutes rewriting it at least four times before I’m satisfied.
I reread my answer and laugh. There’s nothing subtle about what I wrote, but at least he won’t think I’m looking to marry him. There’s a tiny part of me that’s terrified I’ll actually win, but the more rational part of me tells that other part to shut up and let myself have some fun again.
My finger hovers over the submit button, hesitating for just a moment before decisively pressing down. There. Done.
I close my laptop, feeling accomplished. The idea of a date with Dalton is appealing, especially if I wasn’t imagining our connection. Even if he doesn’t select me, at least I put myself out there. It’s progress.
The next morning, I see the contest has blown up on social media overnight and news outlets all the way up to Seattle are splashing around articles about the sexy bachelors looking for dates. As I walk to the yoga studio for my morning class, I stew over all the posts and articles I read. Well, there goes mychance.
By the time I arrive at the studio, I’m a tense ball of nerves. Once class starts, I take my place in front of everyone and try to center myself. One deep breath in, long exhale out.
“Welcome, everyone. Let’s begin with a few gentle stretches.”
I lead my students through a series of poses, sounding calm and collected. With each flowing pose, I feel my anxiety start to dissipate.
I move gracefully through the positions, my body bending and arching with practiced ease. The familiar rituals soothe me, reminding me I’m exactly where I want to be, and that I don’t need a date with Dalton to be happy.
After class, I tidy up the studio, feeling more relaxed. As I walk to my car that I finally got back from the shop, I decide to treat myself to a vanilla latte from the cafe down the street. The February air is crisp but sunny—excellent for sitting outside with my warm drink and soaking up the vitamin D that’s hard to get enough of in Oregon.
Coffee in hand, I head toward the patio seating outside the cafe. Rounding the corner, I nearly collide with a broad chest. Strong hands grasp my shoulders, steadying me. I look up into a pair of sapphire-blue eyes.
“Whoa there,” Dalton says with a crooked smile. “Careful.”
My heart skips a beat at his touch. I take a small step back, hoping the immediate flush in my cheeks isn’t too obvious.
“Dalton, hi!” I try to sound casual. I’m assuming he has no idea I entered the contest last night.
His voice is warm and gravelly. “Getting your caffeine fix?”
I hold up my latte sheepishly. “Yeah, just what I need this morning. You?”
He lifts his own to-go cup. “Same here. Afternoon appointments at the clinic. Gotta stay fueled up.”
I nod, hyper aware of how close we’re standing on the small patio. “Makes sense. Busy day ahead?”
“The usual,” he says, glancing at his phone, and smiles apologetically at me. “In fact, I shouldprobably get going.”
“Of course, don’t let me keep you.” I shift my weight, reluctant for our interaction to end but unsure of what else to say.
He hesitates, looking at me like he wants to say something, but all he comes out with is, “All right, I have to run. See you around, Olivia.”
With a wave, he turns and strides off down the street. I stand frozen for a moment, heart pounding, watching his retreating figure. That man is going to be the death of me. But what a way to go.
I find an empty table on the patio and sit down to enjoy my drink, replaying our conversation in my head while I buzz with giddy energy. At least now he’ll remember me when he sees my entry for a date with him.
God, I hope he chooses me.
Chapter 5
DALTON
