Chapter 7
7
“ C ompletely obsessed with this place. Every time I’m in the neighborhood I have to stop. Coffee is wonderful, the ambience is a close second. Love Coffee Loft !” ~ Chai M.
G inger wasn’t much of a runner, but she liked to think she was. It was fall mornings like this, when she rose while the sun still hid below the horizon, that she thought about getting serious. It’d been way too long since her last run.
On her balcony, the birds chittered as they dug into the sunflower seeds, peanuts, and cracked-corn mix on the feeders. A fall tapestry of leaves littered her mosaic table and chairs. Soon she’d have to fold them into the tiny closet just outside the back door when it turned too cold to eat breakfast on the balcony.
The cool tinge of autumn air made her second-guess the decision of not grabbing a jacket as she ventured downstairs to fast-walk the three blocks to the park. There, she’d run twelve laps—three miles, no less, no more—around the gravel path circling the park’s perimeter. A few joggers were already out, huffing along the route when she joined them. She adjusted her earbuds as she started slowly, dodging a woman walking her four-legged fluffball who seemed oblivious to anyone else.
She thought about the day’s to-do list as her feet slapped a rhythmic tempo on the path.
Place Christmas merchandise order.
Decide on holiday drink menu.
Interview two people for seasonal work.
Planning the fall festival was a list all by itself. It’d be here before she knew it, and she’d barely come up with an agenda.
Finish Forty Under Forty portfolio.
Cal .
No matter what she did lately, he managed to wiggle his way into her thoughts. The storm throwing them together was to blame for that. When she lay awake last night stewing about how he’d put off answering her about the interview, she’d tried putting her finger on what had changed. At one-thirty in the morning, she finally came up with an answer: no one had ever made her feel so cared for as he did that night.
He’d stepped up in an instant to help her in a crisis, no strings attached, and it had overwhelmed her with gratitude. There was a psychology term for that, wasn’t there? White Knight Syndrome or something to do with falling in love with a person who rescues you ?
Except I am not in love with Cal Donner .
She turned up the volume of the music, hoping to push the thoughts back where they belonged—in the quiet, dark recesses of her mind. The place where all annoyances went to die.
Three laps into her run, she was barely winded and feeling pretty proud of herself. She glanced far ahead on the path to where a group milled around the park’s kiosk with their dogs. She slowed, squinting against the bright sunlight, searching for one dog walker in particular. Not that she wanted to see him, but hoped to avoid him. Of course, that was it.
But there was no mistaking Cal’s dark hair and broad shoulders. Or Ridley the horse-dog on one leash and Lola on the other.
Turn around before he spots you .
Too late. Cal zeroed in on her almost as if she’d shouted his name. He waved heartily.
As he came toward her on the path, grinning like he knew the effect of his leading-man looks, she wanted to hide.
“Ginger! Good morning.”
Her teeny, tiny running shorts and her barely there polypropylene tank didn’t cover nearly enough. Worse was the way Cal’s gaze swept over her like he hadn’t had breakfast and she was the tastiest-looking pastry in the history of fresh-baked goods.
Goosebumps ran rampant up her arms like an army of mice.
It’d been ages since she noticed a man look at her like that. And she kind of liked the way he cocked his head to the side with laser-focused admiration, and maybe like he was trying to figure her out at the same time.
“I didn’t know you were a runner,” he said, tightening the dogs’ leashes around his hand before they bound her legs together with their frenzied circling. “I’ve never seen you here.”
That’s because I can’t commit . “Maybe we just miss each other,” she said. Inwardly, she cringed at stretching the truth.
He shrugged. “It’s hard to pay attention to anything else when I’m surrounded by that crew.” He nodded over his shoulder at the chaotic mix of dogs and their walkers, and she took the opportunity to yank the legs of her shorts down for more coverage.
“I can imagine.” A little upward tug on her tank’s neckline wouldn’t hurt either.
“It’s a nice morning, eh?” He turned back to her just as she planted her hands on her hips again.
She wished he’d return to his group so she could run back to her place, change into something less revealing, and pretend this encounter never happened.
“Beautiful. Listen, I?”
“I’ve decided to adopt him.” He nodded to Ridley.
“Yeah?”
He nodded. “Lola might be going to her forever home in a few days, and poor Ridley follows her around like she’s the apple of his eye.”
“What’s the name for that, a bonded pair? Maybe they should be adopted together.” When she looked down at Lola, the little dog raised her paw. “Why is she doing that? ”
“She’s trying to appeal to your sympathy. This is one clever dog, let me tell you.”
“So you’re going to give Ridley a home because you feel sorry for him?”
“That’s about right.”
“I thought you told me you don’t adopt, just foster?”
“You changed my mind.”
“I did?” She didn’t remember having that conversation.
“You said you don’t have time for a dog.” He shrugged. “I do, since I work from home. I just felt selfish, spreading myself around to all of these dogs and not committing to any of them long-term.”
Did he just indirectly tell her she’s selfish? Or was that her own guilt talking?
“I really need to get going?”
“Wait.”
Ginger walked in a tight circle. Her pulse was slowing. She’d never make it back to shower and open the store on time?
“Yes, I’ll do the interview.”
She stopped. “Really? That’s great.” All that worrying for nothing. Of course, he’d do the interview. This was Cal, Doer of Good Deeds and White Knight Storm Rescuer.
“On one condition.”
“Like I said, anything.” She shook out her legs, keeping her muscles warm, and waited.
He slipped something from his back pocket and handed it over. “I was going to stick this in your mailbox on the way past the shop this morning. ”
She stopped moving. “What is it?” She turned the postcard over, then turned it over again.
“An invite to the shelter’s annual fundraiser. If you want to interview me, you’ll have to come.”
A fizzy sensation coiled underneath her ribcage, making it momentarily hard to breathe.
“Can’t I just send some money? I probably won’t know anyone.” Her face heated when she realized her obvious misstep. “Except you, of course.”
“I’m sure you’ll recognize more people than you think.” That over-eager expression lit his face again. It really brightened his blue eyes.
She looked at the postcard again. “It’s formal, too?”
“Time to go shopping.” Cal crossed his arms, leaning against a stone water fountain. His look was completely uncompromising. There was even a little smirk twitching his lips, like he was thinking, I’ve got her now .
Not having a dress was a sorry excuse for turning down an invitation, but she wasn’t thinking straight. Her mind whirled with images of them in formalwear, sneaking glances at each other all night with awkward regularity. Having to make small talk. And the only dress she owned that wasn’t a sundress or a beach cover-up was a dreadful teal thing with balloon sleeves she’d worn as a bridesmaid ten years ago. She’d hated it at the time, too, since it overwhelmed her slight frame. Why is it even still in my closet ?
“So what do you say?” Cal picked up Lola who’d started tugging on her leash to get back to the other dogs. “I’ll give you the interview you want if you come as my date to the fundraiser. ”
Her focus snapped back to him. Date ?
Cal smiled. “Don’t worry. It’ll be a one-and-done date. Kind of like a blind date that you know won’t work out beforehand.”
“It’s not a blind date. I know you.”
He ticked off another argument by raising a finger. “But not as well as you think.”
“Right.”
“Hence the interview.”
She lifted her chin, looking squarely at him. “It’s a big ask for twenty minutes of your time.”
She joked, but the turmoil happening in her stomach at the moment didn’t lie. And what was the little tickle in the back of her throat? Seasonal allergies? No. Did she swallow a bug? Nope. She put a hand against her neck, trying to rub it away.
“Not such a big ask if I help you get that top spot on the Forty Under Forty list,” he said.
He is so right .
Resigned, she nodded. “It’s a deal.”
He extended his hand. The tiny grin had turned into a full-blown smile. “Shake on it.”
That odd sensation in her middle rippled when she slipped her hand into his. The gentle warmth of his grip surprised her.
Their eyes locked for a few extra seconds and her mouth went dry.
What is happening ?
Lola must have sensed some important decision had just been made because she lurched in Cal’s arms toward her. Ginger caught Lola’s front half to keep her from falling to the ground. Lola took full advantage of the situation by lapping at Ginger’s chin.
“Dog kisses are the best, aren’t they?” Cal asked, chuckling. He wasn’t even trying to pull her back.
“Nothing better,” she said while holding her breath. A fluoride rinse would do wonders for these dogs’ adoption appeal . It was so hard to keep smiling with this dog kissing her. To make matters worse, her pointy little tongue kept darting up Ginger’s nose.
Cal positively beamed. His captivating eye wrinkles were at their finest. At least there is that .
“I’m going to get back to the group and let you continue your run. Let me know when a good time is for that interview.” He winked.
She stood rooted to the spot as he walked away. Her brain felt like someone had pushed the pulse speed on a blender. Wouldn’t Kit love to hear about this turn of events. One of her I-told-you-so comments was imminent if she found out Cal proposed this ridiculous idea.
Yes, the word “date” took his proposal to a whole new level. It wasn’t just a ploy to get her to donate to a cause.
Somehow it seemed more personal.