The Lucky Dog Matchmaking Service by Beth Kendrick Page B

all.”
    Lara shifted in her seat, not sure what to say. “Hey, as long as you’re happy.”
    “We are. And we have plans, lots of plans, and you know, what’s the point of waiting?”
    “Right.” Lara studied the skylights. “Good for you.”
    They heard the bar staff laugh at one of Gil’s jokes, and Trina smiled. “He must’ve been a great dad.”
    “He was . . .” Lara searched for the right word. “Fun. I didn’t have the most conventional upbringing, but he was fun, and he always let me be a kid. I needed someone like that in my life.” Gil had been the dad who let her go to the movies instead of slaving away on her history paper, who signed the release form so she could have her belly button pierced when she was fifteen.
    Of course, Justine had been the one who’d had to meet with the history teacher to deal with the repercussions of the late term paper. Grim-faced and silent, Justine had driven Lara to the emergency room on a Sunday evening when the belly button piercing she’d neglected to clean had started to blister and ooze.
    When Gil returned with the root beer floats, he made a big show of swirling the metal serving cup and sniffing it, as though preparing to sample the finest vintage on the wine list.
    They all unwrapped their straws and sipped. The moment the cool, bubbly drink hit her tongue, Lara was transported back to her childhood.
    “Oh my God.” Trina swooned. “You have been holding out on me.”
    “See? I told you,” Lara said. “Worth hanging on to him for the root beer alone.”
    Gil suddenly seemed self-conscious, almost shy. He fiddled with his watchband while his fiancée and his daughter beamed at him.
    “Only the best for my girls,” he said. “I know I’ve made mistakes, but we’re family. We’re a team. We always stick together.”
    And just for a moment, her spirits as fizzy as the root beer in her glass, Lara let herself believe him.

Chapter 7
    Lara took Linus with her to the TV studio on the morning of her interview with Claudia Brightling. Given Rufus’s tendency to bolt, Maverick’s contrary streak, and Zsa Zsa’s propensity to whine in unfamiliar environments, the placid red mutt seemed like her best bet. She wouldn’t have to worry about him barking, escaping, or nosing the interviewer in the crotch while on the air.
    As soon as they entered the green room, the production assistants started fawning over Linus as though he were a four-pawed rock star, offering him treats and belly rubs. Then Claudia ducked in to say hi, and as she reintroduced herself, Lara had, as Kerry would’ve called it, one of her “Miss Cleo” hunches.
    She unscrewed the cap of her water bottle and asked casually, “Do you have a dog right now?”
    “No.” Claudia’s bright smile flickered for a moment. “I lost my beagle to cancer a few months ago.”
    “I completely understand. My Chihuahua was with me for thirteen years. It’s like losing a family member.” The psychic tingling intensified. “Have you ever had a spaniel? Because my friend Kerry just rescued a gorgeous black cocker named Lola—she might be purebred—and I’d love for you to meet her.”
    Claudia shook her head. “Stop.”
    Lara backed up, stumbling over Linus’s leash. “Too soon for another dog? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”
    “No, no, it’s fine.” Claudia’s hazel eyes gleamed. “I actually love spaniels. But I want you to save this for when the cameras are rolling.”
    “Oh.”
    “You can walk me through the matchmaking process on-air and suggest a new dog for me at the end of the segment.” Claudia turned to her producer, who was standing by with a sheaf of papers and a headset. “Great material, right?”
    And so, thirty minutes later, Lara found herself perched on a green love seat with Linus curled up at her feet and Claudia seated across from her. Despite the bright lights and the hustle of production, Linus fell asleep as soon as they sat down.
    “Our