But Max had his head in my lap, exhausted from a park too small for him, and Rafe had noticed before I had to explain. He had asked what was wrong. He had listened. He had offered quiet and space instead of performance or pity.
My heart did a very stupid, very dangerous thing.
It trusted the offer.
“Okay,” I said.
Rafe’s brows lifted slightly, as if he had expected more resistance.
I pointed at him. “Don’t look so surprised. I can be spontaneous.”
“You can?”
“Within reason. And with snacks.”
“That seems less spontaneous.”
“I like being prepared.”
He took out his phone, and I tried not to enjoy how quickly he moved once a decision had been made. “Bring the van,” Rafe said into the phone.
A pause.
“Yes. The van.”
Another pause, longer this time.
Rafe looked at Max, who had closed his eyes against my skirt.
“Something suitable for a larger dog to lie down comfortably on a longer trip,” he said. “And bring water.”
He listened for a second, then added, “For the dog.”
I laughed before I could stop myself.
Rafe ended the call and looked at me. “What?”
I shook my head and bent to kiss the top of Max’s head. “Good news, Senator. Apparently, we’ve been invited to the countryside by a very serious man who has access to the van.”
Rafe stood and offered me his hand.
I looked at it for a little too long before I took it.
He helped me up, his palm warm around mine, his grip careful but sure. When I was standing, he released me at once. Because he was thoughtful and restrained. This man kept giving me reasons to like him and then stepping back before I could decide what to do with them.
It was maddening.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
His gaze moved from me to Max, then beyond the dog park’s fence to the slice of city sky overhead.
“There’s a place about an hour and a half north of the city,” he said. “Private acreage. Quiet trails. Open fields. I know the owner.”
I stared at him. “Of course, you know a man with spare fields.”
His mouth curved faintly. “I know several.”
“Naturally.”