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“Great what?” Zoey asks.
I laugh softly. “Think the canine version of a marshmallow . . . huge, fluffy, white.”
“What are we waiting for then?” Zoey asks. “He could be starting a lesson. Let’s go over there.”
“Not yet, too direct,” I reply, stroking a thumb over Zoey’s face and relishing the softness there while still keeping an eye on Sebastian. “Trust the salesman. Some people, you have to ease up on them so you don’t scare them off.”
Zoey snorts. “You’re not clever. I know you’re talking about me.”
I focus everything on her, not smiling this time. “Wasn’t trying to hide it.”
Zoey takes a big, shuddering breath but nods. She hears me. She understands. “So, what’s the plan?”
I let her change the course of conversation, knowing I’m getting dangerously closer to her core and that she needs time to adjust to that. “Watch him.”
Zoey takes a half step back, still looking at me. “And then?”
I put an arm around her shoulders, leading Zoey away from Sebastian and toward Chunky, who’s now lying on the grass with his legs splayed into the air. Chunky’s lucky that Boopie isn’t still around. He might end up gettin’ more than a friendly sniff like that. “I don’t know yet.”
Zoey stiffens but keeps walking with me. “What? What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I mean I don’t know. I’m playing this by ear. You have a plan?” I ask as we reach Chunky, who promptly flops over. Kneeling, I pet his head, rubbing his ears until he licks my hand and runs off.
Zoey watches Chunky but hisses at me, “I just found out about this an hour ago!”
I laugh, knowing Zoey too well. “That means that you’ve had an hour to obsess over whether he would show and what to do about it. Don’t tell me you haven’t been thinking about it.”
Zoey stops and blinks like an owl realizing for the first time that it can spin its head fully around. “I didn’t . . . haven’t . . .”
“You really didn’t think about it?” I pry, not believing her. But then another idea strikes me. “If not a plan, what were you thinking about, Zoey?” Her cheeks pinken, and based on that alone, I’m pretty sure I know the answer, but I have to hear her say it.
I know it’s greedy, but I want to be something she dedicates that sexy mind to figuring out, thinking up imaginary situations and playing them out like movies in her mind, replaying our conversations and kisses, and getting to know me on her own terms by filing my information in her mental filing cabinet. I bet it’s one of those giant ones with an antique card catalog behind double brass doors.
Finally, she looks up at me, her eyes screwed up with courage. “You. I was thinking about you.”
There’s so much she doesn’t say, but she doesn’t need to say it. Instead, I pull her close again and kiss her tenderly because I need to taste the courage on her lips. “Thank you.”
Zoey smiles hazily but then finds her prickly grit and pushes me off. “Don’t get all cocky. I was mostly imagining how stupid you’ll look when you get hurt after I warned you, threatened you, and basically begged you to leave me alone for your own good.”
I mock flex, acting nonchalant and macho. “I’m not exactly known for doing things for my own good,” I start, keeping up the machismo act before breaking at her concerned look. “Nah . . . you know me. I get my annual physical, drive the speed limit, eat healthy. Hell, I even put up the basket at the grocery store. I’m a good guy, if I say so myself.”
But staying away from Zoey doesn’t feel good. It feels wrong. I want to be with her, closer to her, inside her in so many ways. I slip my hand around hers, and shoulder to shoulder, we watch Chunky running around.
“I think you’re a good guy too,” Zoey says after a bit, so I know she’s been thinking about us. Her decree sounds promising, but it’s not until she puts her arm around my waist and snuggles into my side that I breathe. I take the win, staying close as we slowly work our way over to Sebastian.
As we approach, I hear Sebastian talking to a man about dog food brands he recommends. “What do you think about Advance Nutrition’s diet dog food?” the man asks, his hand resting on the giant head of a small bear masquerading as a wrinkly-faced gray mastiff-looking thing. “My Princess is on it.”
“That’s a dog?” Zoey asks, and Sebastian looks over at her interruption, grinning instantly when he sees her. He even does a quick head to toe scan before he dips his chin at me in that ‘no offense, dude’ way. I lift my brow an increment before slowly returning the chin dip.
