Flirt with him—e.g., smile.
Don’t try to change him—i.e., accept him as he is, flaws and all.
“There,” Emma said. “Complete with examples.”
“Seems complicated,” Alison said, also keeping to herself the fact that she already had a list going, mostly because her list wasn’t working, and neither was practicing.
“It’s called Being Human one-oh-one.”
Alison’s phone dinged an incoming email.
Emma was putting away her iPad. “It’s in your in-box. You are welcome.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Look, think of it like this. The only way you can blow it is if you do nothing. What do you have to lose?”
Good question. And she had one for Emma as well. “So why are you only this honest since your coma?”
She shrugged. “Life’s too short for bullshit.”
Alison lifted her red Solo cup. “Amen to that.”
Chapter 18
Step 18: It’s the small things.
The next morning, Alison pulled up to Paw Pals, this time fully suited up, armor in place. She was juggling three coffees in a carrier, Killer, and her laptop, and she’d decided not to question why she felt the need to be here when she could’ve done the books from her office at Armstrong, or even her own place.
But the truth was . . . she’d fallen in love with Paw Pals. She loved the space, loved what Emma had done to it—though she’d definitely take that to her grave.
She and Killer entered the building and Killer went immediately on Yorkshire Terrier High Alert. “Behave,” Alison said over her barking. “Or I’ll put you in with the salties.” She handed Miss Kitty one of the coffees.
“A bribe?” Miss Kitty asked.
“Yes.”
Miss Kitty smiled and accepted the coffee.
Alison moved to the front desk, where Khloe stood. “How’s things?” she asked the girl.
“Well, my boyfriend’s a dick and my rent just got raised, so—”
“I meant here,” Alison said. “How are things here?”
“Oh. Right.” Khloe blushed. “Things here are good. We’ve got a full house today. Oh, and I just checked in our first turtle! Sammy’s one hundred years old and he hits his pie tin when he wants you to fill it with lettuce. Cute, right?”
“Right,” Alison said distractedly because . . . a turtle? How did one day-sit a turtle? She moved to the back. Marco was watching over the yards, playing with the dogs. He waved and she nodded and turned to Emma, who was sitting on the floor going through some boxes of what looked like cat food inventory. Emma said, “You might want to at least pretend to have interest in your employees.”
“What do you mean? I’m perfectly friendly.”
“Are you though?”
Alison sighed. “I’m working on it.”
“Now that we’re open again, you might want to work harder.”
“You know, maybe you should hang out in the salty yard today.”
“Ha ha,” Emma said. Then her eyes locked on the two coffees. “Tell me one of those is for me.”
“Yes. The one that’s sugar and cream with a splash of coffee.”
Emma hesitated. “Did you poison it?”
“Yeah, you caught me. I’m killing you off so I can handle all the customers on my own.” She shivered in horror. “Trust me, you’re not going anywhere until you earn us both some serious dough.”
With a snort, Emma took the coffee and sipped. “Admit it, I’m growing on you.”
“God forbid.” Alison unhooked Killer from her leash and let her loose.
Killer barked and headed for a once-again snoozing Hog.
“Killer, sit,” Emma said, and to Alison’s shock, Killer skidded to a stop and sat.
Alison was reluctantly impressed.
“Be nice,” Emma said, pointing at Killer. “Only very good boys and girls get to stay up front and be greeters.”
Killer whined, lay down, and set her chin on her front two paws. Like an angel.
Alison was boggled. “Seriously. How do you do that? Magic?”
“You have to mean what you say.”
“Can you teach me to do that?”
“Yes,” Emma said. “Mean what you say.”
Alison rolled her eyes.
AN HOUR LATER, Khloe took a break and asked Alison to cover the register because Emma was busy with Marco manning the full yards.
Alison looked at Emma.
“Deal with it,” her partner said.
Great. Fantastic. She’d deal with it.
A woman walked in, went directly to the cat aisle, picked out a small bag of food, and then came to check out.
“I’m also picking up my boy Kevin,” the woman said. “He’s a Pekingese.” She set the food on the counter.
Alison tried to ring up the food, but it wouldn’t scan.
“It’s on sale,” the woman said. “Nine ninety-nine.”
Alison shook her head. “This food is the highest-quality food we have in the place. It isn’t on sale.”
“Yes, it is.” The woman pointed to the sign over the basket of collars, adjacent to the food. “See? The sign says nine ninety-nine.”
“For the collars,” Alison said.
“But I’m not buying a collar. I’m buying gourmet cat food.”
“Which is nineteen ninety-nine.” Was she not speaking English?
Emma popped in from the back. She gave the customer a warm smile. “Mrs. McCreary, so nice to see you.”
“You too, honey. How are you doing?”
“Wonderful, thank you. How can we help you today?”
“Well, your helper here is trying to overcharge me.”
Emma glanced at Alison.
“The food’s not on sale,” Alison said.
Emma held up a finger to Mrs. McCreary and then pulled Alison aside. “Remember how we said we each have a lane?”
“Yes.”
“Is this your lane? Because you’re about to sideswipe us out of a customer.”
Alison sighed. “Fine.”
“And . . . ?” Emma asked.
Alison tossed up her hands. “And this one time you might be a little bit right.”
“I’m going to need that in writing. Framed. I’ll fix this while you first adjust the sign so it’s obvious that it’s for the collars. Then I need you to run to Costco real quick before you leave for Armstrong Properties.” She moved back to Mrs. McCreary. “So sorry about the mix-up.”
“You’ll honor your sign?” the woman asked.
“Of course.”
Alison opened her mouth, but Mrs. McCreary spoke first, beaming at Emma. “I love this place. My Kevin is so happy here, I can’t thank you enough. My favorite part’s being able to see him on the app when he’s in the play room. I’m going to my book club tonight and bowling league tomorrow—I’ll be sure to tell everyone they need to use your services.”
Emma glanced at Alison over her shoulder, her expression saying: Now do you see why the customer is always right? “I’ll have Marco bring out Kevin,” she said to Mrs. McCreary. “It will be just a few minutes.” She then gestured for Alison to follow her to the side. “Okay, so at Costco, you’ll—”