“Her doggy daycare is closing early for a few weeks, so Ty has been picking her up and watching her for a few hours in the afternoons,” I explain.
“Exactly,” Ty says. “But now I have to go out of town for five days and I need to find someone to watch her for the rest of this week, and maybe Monday.”
“Everything okay?” Noah asks. He’s crouched down on the floor with me, scratching Lucy’s belly. I never had a dog growing up because my mom is allergic, but being around Lucy makes me consider getting one. I run my hand across the top of her head and she gives me her big, goofy doggy grin, her tongue lolling out the side of her mouth. I think my heart grows at least two sizes.
“Totally fine,” Ty says, waving off Noah’s concern. I notice he’s let go of Lucy’s leash, but the angel has made no attempt to escape. “I’m a flight attendant and I’m on reserve right now. I guess a couple crew members got food poisoning at a cookout this week. I’ve got to be in Boston tonight, then we’re heading to Europe for a few days.”
I swear, Noah’s eyes nearly pop out of his head with giant hearts on them, like in a cartoon. Being a jet-setter who gets to hop on a flight to Europe for a few days just made Ty even hotter, I suspect. I can’t wait to tease him the second Ty leaves.
“Which brings us to why you’re here,” I prod.
“Right!” Ty says, shaking his head. I can’t be sure, but Ithinkhe’d been staring at the way Noah’s forearms are flexing as he pets Lucy.
Goners, the both of them.
“I was wondering if maybe you could watch her here?” Ty rushes out. “She’s an angel; you won’t even know she’s here. You’ll just have to let her out a few times, but she’s so good, and –”
“Done,” I cut in.
“Elsie June, you are alifesaver,” he declares. “The only problem is she has to be picked up, so you might –”
“That’s okay,” I cut him off again. “Noah can handle things at the shop while I step out for a bit. As long as Noah is okay with it, I mean.”
“Absolutely,” he agrees easily. We both stand, leaving Lucy lounging on the floor, belly up, just in case someone decides they want to give her more scratches.
The second I’m upright, Ty grabs the sides of my face and plants a loud kiss right in the middle of my forehead. “You’re a peach,” he tells me fondly.
At that moment, I hear the door that leads to the tattoo studio creak open. Whatever part of my brain controls rational thought must have taken the day off, because I bolt. I don’t even take the time to check and see if it’s Declan. Somehow I justknow, and my body has chosen flight over fight.
“Where are you going?” I hear Ty call out just before I click the break room door shut. There’s no lock on the door, so I hurry into my office and close that door, too, locking it behind me like the chickenshit I am.
I lean against the cool wood of the door and look around my tiny office. I’d managed to fit a small desk, a chair and a short book case under the window with a few plants on top of it. I didn’t decoratemuch, but I have a photo of my family on my desk, and one with Olivia and Grace taken on Grace’s cousin’s boat last summer. I hung a few pieces of artwork on the limited wall space I had. My favorite is the watercolor painting of a lavender field that reminds me of the one next to my cottage. I picked it up at a farmer’s market a few years ago.
I round the desk and sit at the sage green upholstered chair I found secondhand at one of my favorite thrift stores in Portland. My office isn’t much, but I managed to make it feel like mine. Which is nice when I’m crunching numbers and tracking inventory and learning how to do things like putting employee benefit packages together. This office is where most of my stress happens, but at least I can look up at the print next to the door that says “Slow down, you’re doing fine” and feel marginally better. Thanks, Billy Joel.
I nearly fall out of my chair when the doorknob rattles, followed by banging on the door.
“Let us in,” Ty demands.
“Please,” Noah adds.
“Who’s out there?” I ask.
I hear a muttered curse. “Just Noah and I. No tattooed sex god to be found.”
I’d like to protest, to tell Ty that Declan isnota sex god, but for all I know, he could be.
I try to ignore the part of my lizard brain that desperately wants to find out.
I hurry to the door and unlock it, then rush back to my seat and attempt to look busy. The door flies open as I’m tapping away at my keyboard. I can feel the weight of their stares on me, but I don’t look up.
“What’s up?” I ask, hoping I sound nonchalant. I fail epically.
“You tell us,” Ty says. “Why’d you run and hide the second your man showed up?”
This time I do look up, only to glare at my friend. “I did not run and hide,” I insist. “I remembered something I had to do.” Too late, I realize I didn’t correct him about Declan beingmy man.
He stares at me for a moment, deadpan, then leans over so he can see my computer screen.
