Page 44 of Experiments in Offline Dating

I was all packed and ready to go. And he was right, no one else was here offering to drive me. And the trip, even one with Wolverine with Poison Ivy, would still be good for the podcast. And I really, really wanted to get to those interviews.

Even worse than that, I’d already told Simone about the whole thing, and if I backed out now, she would . . . I shuddered. I didn’t even want to think about the myriad depraved ways she would make me pay for it. For a year she’d been threatening to sign me up for one of those dating things where I would have to smell random men’s dirty jockstraps in a plastic bag or whatever. I couldn’t do that.

“Well. All right. Fine! If you’re up for hell on earth, I guess I can be too.” I put my hand on the door handle. “Whoa! Shit!”

And, like a moron, for the second time that day, I was completely and utterly shocked when the dog flew into attack mode no more than six inches from my face. Teeth hit the window. Saliva flew.

“Good girl, Finn.”

I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes into blade slits. “What the fuck, Tadhg?”

“What?” he asked, like I was the one being unreasonable. “She is a good girl. She’s protecting my car from harpies.”

I rolled my eyes so far back that I saw my own tonsils. “I’m not surprised that this is your dog. Where did you get it? A bear-fighting ring?”

“She’s a lovely, good dog.”

“Can you muzzle it or something? Or at least move it to the back so that I can sit down without getting my trachea ripped out? My personal recommendation would be that it just run alongside the car for three weeks, the only safe distance.”

“No. Finn sits in the front.”

“Um.” I blinked. “Pardonnez-moi?”

“Finn always sits in the front. That means you’ll have to sit in the back.”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“She wouldn’t understand. Her feelings would be hurt. Those are the rules. Take ’em or leave ’em.”

I pursed my lips. I thought about arguing, but frankly, I couldn’t justify the migraine. “This is so fucking stupid. Fine. At least I’ll be farther away from you. That’s something, at least.”

“You’ll have to get in from this side. Finn doesn’t like you.” The dog, hearing her name, lolled out a big pink tongue and dog-smiled adoringly at her master like she was the most goodest girl. “Dogs are very good judges of character.”

“You two deserve each other.”

“Aww. We do. Thank you.”

“Like sewers deserve rats.”

Tadhg flipped the seat up and held it back for me.

Of course this vehicle possessed only two doors.

Because hell is real.

Glancing warily at the toothy man-eater, who seemed to have calmed somewhat, I threw my bag in the back as a tester to see if she would disembowel it. When she didn’t move to kill, I decided to risk it. I pulled myself up and tried to crawl in. It was not at all graceful.

Oh no. Shit!

I was stuck.

To put it more clearly, my butt was stuck—like a cork in a bottle. The small space between the slanted seat and the doorframe was too small, apparently, for my ass. My ass—which was trying to wiggle through like a raccoon through a cat flap—right there—my leggings-clad ass—mere inches away from Marble Magic Mike.

No. Please, no.

I heard behind me what may have been a chuckle or may have been a dry heave.

Can I at least preserve a scrap of my dignity, universe?