All Summer on a Date: Three Romantic Comedy Short Stories Page 2

  “It's okay,” Summer assured her, pulling her cape over the dog. “I'll get you some help. I promise.”

  She clamped her jaw shut to keep her teeth from chattering as she fished out her phone. Trying to control stiff, shivering fingers, Summer tapped at her touch screen to find a cab company. But she dropped the phone, catching it before it landed in a puddle by pressing it hard against the dog's quivering thigh. The dog yelped.

  “Sorry!” Summer quickly got the phone away from the dog's leg.

  “Hello?”

  The voice was coming from Summer's phone. She looked at it quizzically then put it to her ear. “Hello? Who's this?”

  “Summer? Summer Hodiak?”

  “What? Who is this? How do you know my name?”

  “Summer, it's Jeff Tracy. You called me. On my work cell. Are you okay? You don't sound okay.”

  “Jeff? IT Jeff? From Consequence?”

  “Summer ...” He spoke as if he were backing away from a bear. “Just tell me where you are and I'll come get you. You don't have to drive anywhere.”

  “Jeff, no, no, I'm not drunk. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to call you. I'm standing in the rain with this dog, shivering, and I tried to call a cab. But I must have hit—”

  “You hit him? Is the dog okay? Are you?”

  “No, I didn't hit her. But she's a mess. I've gotta go call a cab.”

  “On New Year's Eve? With a dog? Where are you? I'll be right there.”

  Summer looked at her phone. Jeff, the IT guy from the magazine. He was offering to come rescue them? On New Year's Eve? Jeff from the office?

  The dog whined, poking her head out from Summer's cape. She flinched as the rain pelted her snout.

  “I'm on Foothill,” Summer said into the phone. “Somewhere. North side … I'm right across the street from Marcy's Cleaners.”

  “Got it,” he said. “Stay put. I'll be there in ten minutes.”

  Summer fumbled her phone back into her pocket. Okay. They were going to be okay. Jeff Tracy could give them a ride to a vet. Jeff Tracy from Consequence. But he wasn't on the clock. None of them were, as Kyle had pointed out. Should she offer to pay Jeff when he arrived? Was she being a jerk to even think that?

  Of course she was. Jeff wasn't coming because the art director had summoned him. He was coming because he wanted to help a hurt dog. Or maybe he was just hard-wired to come to the rescue, like all the IT guys. Only they were usually saving people when it was about computer stuff. Summer could picture them as they scurried from office to office in their perpetual jeans and their T-shirts with the dorky decals. And Jeff always looked like he needed a haircut.

  Suddenly, headlights from the road seemed to beam right at her. “Summer!” a man's voice called.

  Could Jeff be here already? No way. Summer's heart leapt—Kyle had come back for her! For her and the dog!

  But instead of a black Porsche, a dinged-up silver Honda pulled to the curb. The car had barely stopped when Jeff came bolting out, wearing his usual jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt—and not even a jacket! He was brandishing a big golf umbrella, unopened.

  When he got to Summer and the dog, he opened the umbrella and held it over her. “Do you want me to carry her?”

  “No,” Summer said, clinging to the dog as much as the dog was clinging to her.

  Jeff gave them a quick nod. “C'mon.”

  He led Summer and her snuffling bundle to the car, keeping them shielded from the downpour. When he opened the passenger door, Summer saw that the seat was draped with gigantic patchwork quilts.

  “Sit down,” he said, whipping off her sodden cape and tossing it into the back seat. As Summer landed with the dog in the nest of quilts, Jeff bundled another blanket around the dog. “All good?” But without waiting for a response, he slammed them in and rushed around to the driver's side. As soon as he got into the car, he asked, “How do you feel? Can you feel everything? Your toes?”

  “Yes,” she said, pulling one of the quilts around her. “Wet and cold, but I'm good.” She noticed how the rain had plastered his dark hair to his head and face. “You got all wet, too.”

  “How's the dog? Any bleeding?”

  “Don't think so. But she's limping. And really skinny. Starved. We've got to get to a vet. I think there's a 24-hour clinic around here somewhere.”

  In a matter of seconds, Jeff found the address on his phone. “Keep an eye out for Mountain Laurel Emergency Clinic. About two miles away, up on Sierra Madre.” He reached across Summer and took a granola bar out of the glove compartment. He gave it to the dog, who wolfed it down in one chomp. “Good girl,” he said with a quick smile. Then, without missing a beat, he pulled onto Foothill. They were off.

  “Are you sure you're okay, Summer?” Jeff was shooting worried glances at her. “I didn't see your car anywhere. How far did you have to chase her until you caught her?”

  “I didn't have to chase her. I got out of the car and she let me go right up to her. It was Kyle's car,” Summer explained. “I saw her and screamed, and Kyle slammed on the brakes.”

  “Kyle?” Jeff didn't say anything for a few seconds. “You mean, you were already on your date when this happened? You weren't just running out for a Starbuck's fix or something?”

  The dog barked and pawed at the quilt.

  Summer didn't answer Jeff. She started drying off the dog as best she could.

  “Summer,” Jeff said, “where's Kyle if your date already started?”

  “I sent him on without me.” She answered matter-of-factly, rubbing the dogs's loose, furry jowls. “You're going to be okay, girl,” she murmured. “I promise. I'm going to take good care of you.”

  “Summer,” Jeff said slowly. “He left you there?”

  “Yes,” she admitted. “But I very strongly encouraged him to go.”

  “What?!”

  “He wanted to call Animal Control and be done with it,” she told him. “I'm the one who wants to help her.” She kissed the dog's snout. “Right, girl? And anyway,” she said to Jeff, “Kyle needs to get to this party—it's a huge schmooze-fest for him. Lots of pro-Green folks there, and he wants to make connections for Consequence.”

  Jeff gripped the steering wheel hard enough to make his knuckles stand out taut against his skin. “Summer,” he said in a quiet, even voice. “You can make excuses for him if you want, but don't make them to me. Just don't. Please.”

  “Okay,” Summer promised quietly, looking studiously out the window. “I won't.”

  But what else could she have done? Bemoaned the fact that her date had dumped her in the rain without a backward glance? She may as well just paint a giant black L on her forehead.

  “I'm just glad you're okay,” Jeff said, smiling over at her.

  “Thanks to you,” Summer cried, turning to him. “Really Jeff. Thank you.”

  “Not a problem.”

  Summer looked back out the window, keeping her hands moving on the dog.

  “So, what will you do with her after tonight?” Jeff asked. “I mean, she probably doesn't have anywhere to go. Will you keep her? Take her home?”

  “What do you think, girl?” Summer hugged the dog's neck. “Do you want to come home with me?”

  The dog licked her face, making Summer laugh.

  Jeff laughed, too. “That's it? You'll take home anyone who licks your face?”

  “This is it!” Summer called as the clinic came into view, but Jeff was already pulling up. They tumbled out of the car and charged through the double glass doors.

  “This dog is hurt,” Summer said, rushing up to the counter. “Limping and really skinny. I found her in the rain.”

  A vet tech in scrubs moved forward. “This way,” he said, taking Summer and Jeff through swinging double doors into the back. Summer eased the dog down onto a stainless steel examining table as the tech peeled away the blanket. Tears sprang to Summer's eyes as she saw the dog trembling on the table, looking up at her. Those big, brown eyes, looking right into her.


  But a herd of techs was already ushering her and Jeff out.

  “Wait!” Summer ran back and kissed the dog. “I'll be right out there,” she promised. “I'm not going anywhere.”

  “Me neither, girl,” Jeff said, also bending to kiss the dog. “Be good.”

  “Okay.” A tech in pink scrubs swept them toward the door.

  “C'mon, Summer,” Jeff said gently.

  Summer swiped at her eyes as she and Jeff emerged back into the waiting room. “I don't know why I'm getting all emotional. I mean, I know she's not that bad. I think. But ...” She wiped away more tears. “She's just so scared.”

  “Sir.” The receptionist looked at Jeff. “You'll have to move your car. And it sounds like this dog is a stray? Are you prepared to pay for its treatment?”

  “Yes!” Summer rushed to the desk. “Yes, whatever she needs. I'll pay for it.”

  “We'll need a deposit.” The receptionist placed a number of forms in front of Summer before he looked back to Jeff. “Sir? Your car?”

  “You go move it,” Summer suggested to Jeff, “while I do all this paperwork.”

  With a quick nod, he dashed out to the car.

  When Summer put down the deposit and signed the last form, she limped on frozen feet across the waiting room. Jeff had returned from the car and was sitting on the peach vinyl bench that ran along the wall.

  “What's all this?” Summer asked, noticing the stuff surrounding him.

  Jeff held up the cushiest pair of Uggs Summer had ever seen.

  “They're men's size 11,” he said, “but they'll work wonders on your feet when you slip into them. And here's a sweatshirt.” He tossed it to her. “That quilt's gotta be pretty damp by now.”

  Summer let the quilt fall off her shoulders onto the bench as she held out the gray sweatshirt. She looked at the black and purple lettering.

  The Baltimore Ravens.

  “Superbowl XXXV?” she said. “Are you serious?” But she pulled it over her head anyway.

  “Pure coincidence,” he answered, trying to hide a smirk. “I mean it, Summer. I wouldn't kick you when you're down. It's just always in my trunk.”

  Summer cast a withering glance his way. “Uh-huh.”

  But the sweatshirt was soft and warm, and he had saved her big time. So what if his Ravens had blown out her Giants in the 2001 Superbowl? She could be the bigger person here and let him savor his team's piddly little victory. They'd need to win a few more Super Bowls and get a lot more history to catch up to the New York Giants.

  “What?” he asked, seeing her start to smile.

  “Nothing,” she said. “Other than that I am supremely grateful for everything you've done.”

  “Uh-huh,” Jeff said, perfectly echoing her earlier skepticism.

  Summer laughed. “Really, thanks,” she said. “I'm going to wash up and change into the Uggs after I peel off my soaked stockings.” She scooped up the boots. “Come get me if they have any news about her.”

  Once inside the bathroom, Summer looked in the mirror. She groaned. All that time in the rain, and she didn't look at all rock video sexy. No, she just looked scary, and not in a tempting Drusilla from Buffy kind of way. Mascara smeared down to her cheekbones, shapeless sweatshirt—and her hair? All that rained-on, hair-sprayed hair had turned downright clumpy. The two long, black, sparkly pins jutted out at menacing angles.

  Summer sighed. At least she could wash her face.

  When she clomped out into the waiting room wearing Jeff's Uggs a few minutes later, she looked at him expectantly. “Any word yet?”

  He shook his head, making Summer's guts churn.

  “What's taking so long?”

  “It's only been ten minutes,” he said softly.

  Summer sank down onto the bench and wrapped her arms around her stomach. “So,” she said, taking a deep breath, “why didn't you tell me you were a Ravens fan when we were talking football in my office?”

  Jeff shrugged. “Kyle popped his head in and asked you out.”

  “Oh, right.” Summer bit her lip. “Kyle. You must think I'm an idiot.”

  “No more than I am.”

  “How so?” Summer asked. “I'm the one who got all excited about dating a guy who didn't want to help a hurt dog in the rain.”

  “Excited, huh?” Jeff picked up Summer's wet shoes and tossed them into a knapsack he'd brought in from the car. “Well, whether you're dating the wrong person or not dating the right one, it's just different sides of the same coin.”

  “What?” Summer sat up. “Who are you dating?”

  Jeff let out a bark of laughter. “I'm not dating anyone.”

  “Oh. But you said—”

  Jeff stood up.

  Summer turned to see the vet striding through the swinging doors, and she jumped up, too.

  “I'm Dr. Applegate.” The brisk woman with short dark hair shook both their hands.

  “Well?” Summer blurted.

  “She's a lucky girl,” the doctor chirped. “Malnourished yes, and dehydrated—we've got her on an IV. We'll give her some food after we set the leg. Her right tibia is broken.”

  Summer gasped. “I thought you said she was lucky!”

  Dr. Applegate nodded. “Your finding her was the luckiest thing that could have happened to her. You got her here. In her condition, she wouldn't have lasted much longer in this weather. It's supposed to keep raining all week and nighttime temperatures are dropping into the thirties.”

  Summer concentrated on taking slow, easy breaths. “Will she be okay?” She felt Jeff's hand come to rest lightly on the small of her back.

  “She can go home tonight once we patch her up. And good news about that. We found a microchip.”

  Summer closed her eyes for a few seconds. “A microchip?” she echoed weakly.

  “Yup. We called in the ID number and found the family. They're on their way from Valencia to come get her. ”

  The vet must have seen Summer's face fall. “No, no,” she murmured, squeezing Summer's arm. “You've done a fantastic thing tonight. They said she got out three weeks before Christmas, and they've been looking ever since.” Dr. Applegate looked from Summer to Jeff, then back to Summer. “You two are heroes.”

  Summer nodded, wiping away a tear. “It's great news,” she said. “Really. She'll be so happy to see her family.”

  “There you go,” the vet said, patting her arm. And oh—” she turned around as she headed back through the swinging doors. “Her name is Starbuck.”

  Summer and Jeff stared after the retreating vet.

  “Starbuck,” Summer murmured, unable to look at Jeff. “Starbuck.”

  “Starbuck,” he agreed, nodding slowly. “Great name for such a gorgeous pit bull.”

  Summer smiled. Then sniffled. “You have a crush on her, too, don't you?”

  Jeff tipped his head and raised his eyebrows in hopeless assent.

  “This is so stupid,” Summer said, wiping away more tears. “How can this happen?” She looked at Jeff. “How can we love her after just an hour?”

  Jeff looked down. “I guess it happens that way sometimes.”

  “Guess so.” Summer hung her head and played with the frayed cuffs of the sweatshirt. “Um … Jeff? I want to wait to make sure the family shows up and Starbuck's all right. I can get a cab from here if you want to go.”

  Jeff turned to look at her, his eyes wide, forehead crinkled.

  “I mean,” she explained, “ it's New Year's Eve. I must've interrupted something when I called.”

  “Summer, I was playing an online video game.” He bit his bottom lip and smiled. “I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to admit that to any female. Ever. But it doesn't matter what I was doing. I'm staying, too.”

  They sat back down on the bench to wait.

  “Thanks again, Jeff,” Summer said. “For coming to the rescue. You showed up with the quilts and the Uggs ...” She stretched out her legs and wiggled her toes. “Were you a Boy Scout or something?”


  “Boy Scouts,” he acknowledged, “have a reputation for being prepared. But IT guys know how to troubleshoot. Fast.”

  “True,” Summer agreed, nodding. “And you don't freak out. It's like you're superheroes for the modern age.”

  But Jeff was shaking his head. “No,” he countered. “For any age.”

  Summer laughed. “You'll get no argument from me.”

  “The day of the fanboy is coming,” he assured her. “You just watch.”

  “Lifelong fanboy, eh? Do you still read comics?”

  “Sure.”

  “And you like playing online video games?”

  “Love it.”

  Summer sighed, looking toward the ceiling and shaking her head. “You're so much smarter than I am. You decided to do something you like on New Year's Eve. I, on the other hand, spent $1500 to dress up for a party because I'm desperate to get Noly Parker's money.” She stole a sidelong glance at Jeff. “Kyle asked me to the Silversmith Party after all my Noly plans were in place.”

  “Noly Parker,” Jeff mused. “Noly Parker. Wait.” He sat up. “Noly Parker? The bratty billionaire who got plastic surgery to make herself look like Halle Berry? You want to party with that Noly Parker?”

  “Not exactly.” Summer looked at her hands. “I've been communicating with her on and off since early December. She likes the murals I did in Detroit, and we've been talking about a project I want to do in Watts.”

  “And this isn't for Consequence?”

  “No, it's my own project.” Summer smiled. “But if I pull this off, its association with the magazine will be explosive.”

  Jeff smiled, too. “And when it comes to boosting sales,” he noted, “you'll blow the entire marketing department right out of the water.”

  “An extra bonus,” Summer acknowledged.

  “If you can pin down Noly Parker.”

  “I know she can be a flake,” Summer admitted. “But she's done a lot of good with her money. Especially in places like East L.A. and South Central.” She looked at Jeff. “She's as much Oprah as Paris Hilton.”

  “Okay,” he said, conceding the point.

  “Tonight we were finally supposed to meet face to face.” Summer turned to fully face him. “She likes my work—and my ideas for Watts. But she doesn't give her money to people she doesn't know. My plan was to win her over before the hardcore partying got underway.” Summer slumped back onto the bench and sighed.