33
I take in a lungful of crisp morning air and zip my jacket up tighter.
Normally, I’d be sleeping in on a Saturday, but I’m quickly learning dog moms don’t get to sleep in.
Not with an energetic beagle who’ll gnaw a dining room chair when he’s bored.
Last night, I stayed up late reading as much as I could about beagles.
I discovered they’re energetic, intelligent, and amiable, but they also tend to be stubborn.
I’m seeing that in real time as Turbo insists on sniffing every leaf, gum wrapper, and wheel rim.
My walk isn’t the sedate stroll I was hoping for. Instead, it’s a little chaotic, with Turbo pulling in a dozen different directions until my shoulder aches. I’m guessing his previous owner didn’t walk him much, if at all, so we’ll have to learn leash manners together.
Turbo glances back to make sure I’m still there. I can’t help smiling. It’s disarming to be adored this completely. He looks at me like I own his world, and I guess, for him, I do. I’ve never been the center of anyone’s universe before. It’s heady and humbling at the same time.
We’re ten minutes into our walk when I spot Joel on the opposite side of the street.
He’s running, but it’s not a leisurely morning jog.
He runs like he’s chasing something down.
Or like something’s chasing him. There’s a kind of fury in it.
I’m caught off guard by how visceral it is to see him like this, like his body is the only thing he knows how to control.
I’m not sure what’s worse—how good he looks, or the fact that I can’t seem to look away.
He said fate keeps tossing us back into the same orbit. Maybe he was right. What are the chances our paths would cross at this hour, on this block? Seeing him here feels like serendipitous proof. The universe clearing its throat.
I know the instant he sees me. There’s a tiny hitch in his stride, the kind you’d miss if you weren’t looking.
I lift a hand in a small, hesitant wave. He raises one in return, but he doesn’t slow. A strange mix of relief and disappointment floods my chest.
Do I want him to come over? No.
But a little company would have been nice.
I turn away, ready to head back home, but Turbo has other ideas. One second, I’m holding the leash; the next, it’s flying out of my hand. I watch in horror as Turbo runs straight for Joel, picking up his scent.
“Turbo!” I shout as I take off after him.
He gives a joyous bark, as if to say, Come on, slowpoke, let’s go say hi.
My heart drops as he barrels across the street. Thankfully, there are no cars.
Closing the distance, Turbo launches himself at Joel, who has to perform an impressive side leap to avoid getting entangled in Turbo’s leash.
He drops into a crouch and keeps a firm hold on Turbo’s collar, preventing him from running off again, while Turbo presses himself ecstatically against Joel’s legs, tail wagging madly.
I skid to a stop in front of them.
“Hey, trouble,” he murmurs to the dog, but his eyes are on me.
“I am so sorry,” I pant, bent over with my hands on my knees. “Thank you for holding him.”
“Not a problem.”
We stare at each other for one suspended beat, his fingers curled in my beagle’s collar, and my pulse pounding in my throat. He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes give him away. Those dark, knowing eyes.
He looks down at Turbo, who is trying to lick his neck like they’ve been separated for years. My gaze snags on the way the tendons in his forearms move as he absently scratches behind Turbo’s ears.
Huh. Look at that. I had no idea forearms could flex like that. How...fascinating.
“You haven’t taken him to the shelter?” Joel asks, snapping me out of my very distracting headspace.
I lean down to pick up the leash, avoiding his eyes. “No.”
He straightens. “Kenzie.” Even the way he says my name is thrilling. He waits until I look up. “What are you still doing with him?”
“I...uh...I might have adopted him.”
“Might?”
I sigh. “I did.”
He gives a small head shake, but it seems almost affectionate. “Why am I not surprised? You’ve got a knack for complicating your life.”
It does look that way. And the biggest complication is standing in front of me, smelling like cedar and soap and temptation.
“I don’t get it,” I say, half to myself. “I’m really pretty simple and ordinary.”
Joel snorts. “No, you’re not. You’re definitely...complicated.”
“I am?” I latch onto the word and feel inordinately pleased at his description. Complicated sounds mysterious and interesting. I doubt anyone else would attach that label to me, but I like that he does.
Seeing my pleased expression, Joel frowns. “Not a good complicated.”
“Too late,” I tell him cheerfully. “I’ve already filed it under good complicated.”
He fights a smile and looks down at Turbo. “Have you ever had a dog?”
I nod. “We had dogs growing up, but my parents always adopted older dogs. They knew they’d be the last to get picked.” I blow a loose strand of hair out of my face. “I’ve never had a puppy.”
“A whole different ballgame.”
I rub a tired hand down my face. “Yes, it is.”
“Have you named him?”
“Turbo.”
A corner of his mouth lifts. “It suits him.”
“He’s a bundle of energy in a small package.”
“From the looks of it, he wants to be in charge.”
I sigh. “He definitely acts like it.”
He goes silent for a beat too long. “Are you coping?” he asks quietly.
“He’s a handful, but I can handle him.” My eyes drop to the ground. It’s not a complete lie.
“Kenzie,” he says softly. Again, he waits patiently for me to look up. When I do, a hint of exasperation crosses his face. “Don’t pretend you’re coping if you’re not, okay?”
After a pause, I give a small nod. “Okay.”
“Lie to everyone else, but not to me,” he says in a low voice, his eyes burning into mine. “Never to me.”
For a second, everything stills. Every inch of my skin feels hot. I feel that familiar pull between us.
“That cuts both ways,” I say.
“I don’t lie to you.”
“You don’t tell me the truth either.”
“I might not tell you everything,” he says carefully. “But I won’t lie.”
A cold gust of wind slices through my jacket and I shiver. He steps closer and angles his body to block the wind.
“Do you need help with Turbo?” he asks. The question is casual, but I notice something that looks a little like apprehension in his eyes.
“I probably do,” I admit, “but I could ask Gideon.”
Even as I say it, I know it’s not fair. Gideon’s newly married, and his free time belongs to Kate and Lisset. A professional trainer would be smarter. And require money I don’t have.
Joel rubs the back of his neck, clearly in a debate with himself. His shirt rides up, and I catch a glimpse of his flat stomach. I immediately pretend I didn’t notice. Which is how he knows I did. His mouth moves in an almost smile.
“I can help you with Turbo,” he says at last, like the words cost him.
“You?”
“Yes, me.”
“Did you grow up with dogs?” I ask, curious.
“No.”
“Then how do you know how to train them?”
“I had a dog three years ago,” he says reluctantly. “We took a basic obedience course. I remember enough.”
“What kind of dog was it?”
“Golden retriever.”
“What happened to him?”
He takes a fast, hard breath. “He died.”
The bleakness in his face makes my chest ache. I don’t push. Some doors aren’t mine to open. I touch his arm briefly in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”
He nods once, then clears his throat. The tension is back in his shoulders. “We can do a session this afternoon if you’re free.”
“I’m free.”
“Okay.”
“Should I come at your place?” My face flames when realization hits. “I mean, should I come to your place? To!”
Oh, please, please, let a sinkhole suddenly form and swallow me up.
“No,” he says with a smile he can’t quite hide. “I’ll come to you.”