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He gave her a shadow of a smile, and she realized she was staring. She jerked her eyes away, but he said, “I’ve never used him to meet girls, but this whole rescuing thing could work out for me.”
Check. Not g*y. “Well, I’m not sure the cheerleaders would go for someone whose dog weighed more than they do.”
He reached up a hand and pushed his hair off his face. “Who would, you think?”
“Softball team,” she said without missing a beat. “Those chicks are tough.”
He grinned. “Thanks for the tip.” He started to turn for the front of the store, then stopped. “You play softball?”
“Nope.” Now she knew she was blushing. “Those bags are heavy. You should take that up front.”
“Good call.” He turned for the end of the aisle and Casper bounded up to walk beside him. She opened her mouth to stop him, to say something witty, to make conversation with someone who didn’t expect her to do him a favor in the dark later.
Right. It’s his first day. That’ll last about five minutes.
Then New Kid stopped. He gave her a smile over his shoulder before looking at the dog. “Casper, she said someone has to hold your leash.”
The dog barked.
Then he dipped his head, picked up the end of the leash in his mouth, and trotted after his master.
Her shift ended at nine-thirty. Becca made it to Chris’s house before ten. Fury got her there, but fear trapped her in the car once she made it to the driveway.
She stared at the front porch for a long minute. If she sat here much longer, someone was sure to notice. She wondered if she should just pull out of the driveway and go home.
But she was supposed to work this weekend. What if Tyler and his friend came back?
She’d been lucky New Kid showed up with his police dog. Maybe she could ask to borrow Casper and just forget Chris Merrick existed.
Excuse me. Yeah, I don’t know your name, but can I borrow your dog? I work three shifts per week. I’ll give him a cut of my pay. Bonuses paid in rawhide.
Right.
The air sat thick and heavy with humidity when she climbed the porch steps to knock. Another storm was coming.
She remembered Gabriel’s comment the night before, about girls not being an oddity around here. She wondered if she’d come across like that, knocking on their door at ten o’clock at night, like some desperate chick mooning after them all, especially after Chris had asked her—what? Out? What had happened at lunch?
The door swung wide. Michael stood in the light of the foyer. Same ponytail, same careless appearance. His jeans looked a little nicer, and he was wearing shoes tonight, but he still needed a shave. A cordless phone was held to his ear.
He wasn’t a big guy, but he sure wasn’t little. She remembered how he’d tried to grab her, and she took a step back. “I—ah—is Chris—”
He held up a finger, pointed to the phone, then took a step back and waved her inside.
She stepped across the threshold, trying to keep her shoulders square. She slid a hand into her jeans pocket and threaded her fingers through her keys again.
“No,” he said, and it took her a second to realize he was speaking into the phone, not to her. “You can buy it by the bag, but a sack of mulch will only cover about four square feet ... mm-hmm ...”
He headed for the kitchen, leaving her standing there by the door. She had no idea whether he expected her to follow.
When he reached the doorway, he glanced back and gave her an exasperated look. He put a hand over the bottom of the receiver and whispered, “You want to come sit down or what?”
She scurried after him, but he was already speaking into the phone again. “You’re welcome to have your husband call me, but I feel fairly certain you’ll need more than ten bags to go around your house.” Becca could hear the sigh behind his voice.
He pulled out a chair for her without looking, and she perched on the edge. A laptop sat open on the kitchen table, next to a bottle of water and a three-inch white binder bursting with worn pages. A regular spiral notebook lay beside it, the page covered with chicken scratch.
“Yes, the bushes will take up some of the square footage—but still, I’m thinking truckloads, not bags. Would you like me to come out and—”
He sat across from her, put an elbow on the table, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, I fully understand. Have him call me. I’ll come out and give an estimate ... okay, then. Okay. Yes. Okay.”
