12. Ashton #2
Griffin’s mentioned in our texts that despite warming to her dog bed, Roxy still prefers the seclusion under his. My guess is it’s because she enjoys his scent, but is still fearful of getting too close.
My palms start to sweat. “I’ll just wait till you get back.” Entering his bedroom seems way too personal for a client meeting.
He calls over his shoulder. “Suit yourself. But if you change your mind, my bedroom is to your left. Door’s open.”
“Right. Okay. Tha?—”
But he’s gone.
I internally count to five and decide to find Roxy. The last thing I want is for Griffin to return and find me standing here like an awkward ninny because of my qualms about being in his empty bedroom.
“Teddy, stay.” His tail wags, thumping against the rug, but he stays put.
I tiptoe into Griffin’s bedroom. It’s sleek and modern, just like the rest of the house.
The king-size bed has a simple black metal frame and white down comforter, with matching nightstands on either side.
I crawl on my hands and knees and peek under the bed.
Curled in the upper corner is Roxy, looking quite content.
Lying on my stomach, I talk to her. “Hey girl, how are you? Still not settling in? Well, I’m here to work on that today.” Wrinkles appear on her forehead between her eyes as her head tilts.
“Any luck?”
I thump my head underneath the bed frame, Griffin’s voice surprising me. I sit up and rub the back of my head.
He kneels by my side. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I figured you could hear my footsteps coming down the hall.”
My cheeks heat from being so clumsy yet again. “Nope. Must be your super stealthy houseshoes.”
He smiles. “Must be. Any luck with Roxy? Sometimes, I find her in my closet in the mornings. The girl is like a raccoon. I never have any idea she’s moved.”
I stand, not wanting to be closer to Griffin than is professional. “Have you been opening your patio doors in the mornings?”
“Yup. Works every time, too. She loves spending the majority of the day outside. I put food and water both inside and out. She tends to prefer her distance, lounging around in the sun.”
“Well, let’s see if we can do some more practice adjusting to being close to you and following commands. Let’s start outside where she’s most comfortable.”
He stands next to me. “Sounds good. Do you want to get Teddy?”
Right. My dog is here too.
I walk toward his bedroom door. “Teddy, come.”
He does as commanded, and we all three walk outside through Griffin’s bedroom patio doors.
The sliding glass doors occupy almost the entire back wall. Beyond, it is a perfectly manicured lawn, lined with more palm trees and an infinity pool with a hot tub, complemented by a waterfall between the two. Beyond that are the sprawling hills of Hollywood.
Once outside, I give the command for Teddy to roam free. He immediately takes off running.
I walk toward the expansive patio, lined with billowing, cream-colored linen curtains wrapped around large wooden beams and comfy patio furniture. I sit on one of the couches with matching cream cushions. Griffin follows suit, sitting on the couch across from me.
He pulls his leg up over his knee and leans back with his arm resting on top of the couch. “It usually takes her a couple of minutes before she comes out.”
“Okay, that’s fine. She’s still learning to trust the new routine. Once she comes out, we’ll give her some freedom for a while before calling her over to work.”
My eyes burn from the lack of blinking as I wait for Roxy’s appearance. I avoid Griffin’s face like the plague, too nervous to make small talk.
“How have you been?”
“Good.” I dart a glance in his direction. He’s studying me intently in that intimate way he does.
“That’s good. I’m good, too, by the way.”
I look at him now.
He’s smiling, and his posture is completely relaxed and comfortable. I envy his ease. He drops his leg and leans forward. “I’m teasing. I just thought we’d get to know one another more while we wait.”
It’s one thing to text one another; it’s another to talk face-to-face. “What do you want to know?”
“Aside from training, taking care of animals, and working to start a nonprofit rescue, what else do you do with your time? Something just for you? Something for fun?”
I huff a laugh. “Sleep?”
His smile widens. “I like sleep, too.”
Oh my lanta, my face lights on fire. I could have said reading, writing for my blog, taking walks in parks, baking, watching movies. Anything else, for crying out loud!
“I rarely get enough sleep when I’m working. It’s been nice having some time off to relax.” He sips his coffee.
“And what do you do for fun?” There ya go. Shift it back to him.
“Fun, huh? I’m not sure I know what that is anymore.”
His self-deprecating laugh makes me want to question him further, but Roxy appears at the patio doors.
“There she is.” Griffin sounds so proud that it softens my heart.
Roxy walks slowly outside, but once she catches sight of Teddy running on the backside of the property, she takes off toward him.
Griffin laughs. “Looks like she recognizes her friend.”
I stand and cup my hand over my eyes to block the sun. Watching the two of them greet one another gives me a swell of pleasure. “She sure does.”
Griffin stands next to me. His quiet, steady presence releases some of my tension, and I blurt, “I like reading, watching movies, and baking.”
His shoulder nearly touches mine. “Kind of a homebody?”
“Sometimes I get out to take walks.”
“With Teddy, I presume?”
“Of course. And my two fosters.”
“You have other dogs?”
“Yes. I currently have Teddy and two fosters.”
“Wow. That’s impressive.”
I shrug. “Once you have one, adding a couple more to the mix isn’t so bad. They keep each other busy.” Yeah, busy causing shenanigans in one’s apartment while they’re unsupervised.
“I’d like to meet them. You should bring them over next time.”
He turns my direction, his expression so open and sincere.
I bite my lip and nod. “Sure, maybe I’ll do that.”
The expansive living room glass doors hum as they open and lift overhead like a garage door, merging the outdoors with Griffin’s living area.
Luke materializes from inside. He’s sporting a similar look to the last time I saw him—fitted tee, casual jeans, a fresh haircut, and a clean-shaven face.
He’s carrying a plain coffee mug like Griffin’s. He tips it in the air.
“Hey Ashton, care for some coffee?” His twang is still prevalent.
“No, I’m good. Thank you, though.”
He slurps from his mug. “No problem.” He gestures toward the yard. “Looks like Roxy is still getting along with Teddy.”
The dogs run around as if they’re two old friends out for a frolic together.
The sight squeezes my heart, giving me hope.
We just need to work on her interaction with humans.
Roxy could have a healthy and happy life again.
It’ll just take time. Wounds are like that.
They’ll heal, though they’ll still prickle beneath the surface on occasion.
Griffin clears his throat and draws my attention. “I was thinking of having Luke take some video clips of us training together.”
My spine straightens. “Why?”
“I thought it’d help me remember some of the training tips.”
“Oh.” I don’t love being filmed, but if it’s for personal use, I can understand that. “That should be fine.”
Griffin glances toward Luke. “Well, I, with the help of Luke, had this idea for your rescue foundation.”
“Uh huh?”
“We thought we could help you set up some social media accounts. Seeing as we noticed you didn’t have any. We thought it’d be good for your rescue. Social media is so important these days. Your blog is great and all?—”
Social media is so important. I lost count of how many times Mom would say that and then proceed to share nearly every personal moment in my life.
Nothing was ever private. She posted everything from braces, to my grades—good or bad—to even sharing mortifying details of my first period and shopping for my first bra! No way. I don’t do social media.
“No, thank you,” I respond as politely as I can, not ready to offload my teenage trauma with social media.
“It’d be great publicity. You almost have to have a social media account these days to get any kind of recognition.”
“I don’t need recognition.”
“I don’t mean accolades. I mean support for your rescue. People need to know the concept exists, so they know how to support it. I’m afraid they won’t just happen upon your blog. You said you still need funding, right?”
“Yes?”
“Well, you’ll need sponsors, donors. What better way to build awareness than using social media?”
Social media can’t be my only option. In my experience, it brought nothing good to my life.
“I thought sharing some clips of us would be helpful in showing people what you do—inspire people to donate. I mean, mentioning my name couldn’t hurt either.”
He doesn’t get it. “I can’t.” I stumble backward, shaking my head.
Every wire in my brain short-circuits, setting off warning bells. I’ve successfully avoided social media for five years. Kept my life private. Managed to keep the paparazzi from connecting me and my blog to Being the Blakes or my mom. The risk of losing my sacred anonymity was too great.
“I’m sorry. Can you excuse me? Where’s your bathroom?” I don’t wait for him to respond. I rush inside, my internal panic pushing me to escape.
He hollers from outside. “It’s on your left, first door to the right and through the bedroom.”
Without turning, I wave in acknowledgment, my breaths too short, my body too hot.
I made a mistake coming here. A huge mistake.