Page 123 of Nobody Told Me Thrift Shops Sell Stolen Dragon Heirlooms

Rafe watched him too, and not with pleasant fondness and half his attention elsewhere like people usually watched dogs. Rafe watched Max as if every change in stride told him something. As if the old dog’s joy deserved witness.

“You’re good with him,” I said.

Rafe’s gaze stayed on Max. “He tells you what he needs.”

My body sighed at that. “Yes,” I said. “He does.”

The terriers had lost interest in their argument and were now sniffing along the fence. The poodle’s owner scrolled on her phone. A man in running shorts tried to convince a corgi to fetch, while the corgi clearly considered the request beneath it.

Rafe and I moved toward a bench beneath one of the trees. Max kept trotting after the ball, then pausing to survey the park like a retired sheriff who had chosen recreation but remained available for consultation.

We sat next to each other, not too close to each other, but close all the same.

“So,” I said, because the silence had begun to develop texture. “Do billionaire dragon auction weekends usually include public dog parks?”

“No.”

“Glad I could broaden the itinerary.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “You have done that repeatedly.”

“Professionally, I hope.”

His eyes met mine. “Mostly.”

That one word shouldn’t have warmed me, but it did.

I looked away. “I used to think you were going to be like every entitled rich man I’ve met at the firm.”

“That seems fair.”

I glanced back at him. “Does it?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not offended?”

“I’ve met many rich men,” he said dryly.

A laugh slipped out of me.

“I know how I appear.”

“I’m not sure you do.”

His gaze stayed on my face.

I forced myself to keep talking because stopping would invite other things to rush in. “You’re not exactly warm at first.”

“No.”

“But you’re not cruel.”

Something shifted in his face. “That’s a low bar.”

“You’d be amazed how many people bring a shovel and lower it even further.”

His mouth tightened, not in amusement this time. “At the firm?”