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It did seem to put him at ease a little. His cheeks flushed red, as did the tips of his ears. He smiled shyly at her, his fingers playing with his paper plate before giving it a twirl. “You’re sure?”
Roberta arranged everything down on the table and poured Taylor a glass of water. “Yes, I’m sure. It’s Friday night, and it’s been a rough week at work. I’m ravenously hungry and way too tired for tonight anyway. Tomorrow night, well, I can’t promise not to rip your clothes off, but tonight, you’re safe.” She tried to keep a straight face but couldn’t. A wide smile spread ear to ear as she handed him his glass.
He patted the dogs’ heads. Both had their chins resting on his thigh, begging for a handout. “Well, at least you’re honest.” He sighed like an overzealous bit actor on his first screen test.
“Bon appétit,” she said, lifting a slice from the box and stretching over the table to offer it to him. Taylor raised his plate, accepting the slice, waiting until Roberta had served herself before starting to eat.
Bird song and panting dog sounds surrounded them as they chewed, napkins at the ready, dabbing at oily smears on lips or cheeks. Her eyes remained glued on her plate until she heard two whines. Spotting her dogs begging to Taylor, Roberta called them away to give him eating room. They raised their heads but refused to leave his side. Their two sets of drooling jaws left wet spots on his shorts.
“Where did you find these two?” Taylor asked, petting first one, then the other with his free hand. Each dog took the opportunity to sniff it and lick it before it disappeared.
“Ah, these two guys ... I found Tucker first at the Branfield Animal Pound. He was on his last week before the one-way ticket over the Rainbow Bridge. He’d been there for months because he needed hip surgery. No one wanted to take him on because of the surgery expense—except me. Our eyes met, and it was decided.”
Taylor smiled. “Love at first sight?”
A warm wave rushed through her chest from the smile. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”
“And Goober?”
“Poor old Goober was abandoned at the kennel. His owner dropped him off under a false name and never returned. The kennel owner knew me from taking Tucker there a few times, so she knew I’d take good care of him. It didn’t take much to convince me. He’s a sweetheart—gentle, playful, and he gets along great with Tucker. It was a no-brainer.”
“What about his ear?” Taylor gently ran his finger over what remained of Goober’s left ear.
“No one seems to know. He came that way from his previous owner. I try not to think what horrible incident might have caused it.” An involuntary shudder ran through Roberta as she finished the statement.
She reached out, hand trembling, to open the box top. Taylor leaned over and squeezed her hand. “He’s here now, and he’s happy. That’s what counts most.” He quickly averted his eyes and removed his hand.
Roberta blinked back the tears forming in her eyes. She couldn’t trust her voice just yet.
A moment of silence followed.
“They’re great dogs,” Taylor said as he took another slice. “Mr. Eagan tells me you work at the medical center in downtown Pittsburgh. What do you do?” he asked before sinking his teeth into his second slice.
“Immunohistochemical testing, it’s cancer and disease testing in the pathology lab. I’m a locum tenens, meaning I work at temporary jobs for contracted periods to cover someone on maternity leave or when someone is sick.”
Taylor poured himself another glass of water then refilled Roberta’s empty glass. “Where’s home?”
“Branfield, Massachusetts. It’s on the border with Connecticut. Small town, very rural, quiet. Just the way I like it.” Roberta decided to press her luck. “And you?”
“Back in California,” he said before biting into another slice.
Roberta noted his shoulders had hiked up three inches after her question. So much for his comfort level.Okay, so keep the personal questions to a minimum. “I’ve been to California three times. Long Beach and Monterey for conferences and San Diego for vacation. The weather was perfect, but I know I’d miss the four distinct seasons and the snow,” she babbled as calmly and nonchalantly as she could muster.
“It snows in the mountains in California.” His shoulders dropped a notch.
“Yeah, but it’s not the East Coast. I’m East Coast born and raised. Traveling’s nice, but New England is home.” His shoulders relaxed an inch more. “I like to ski, and I like the beach. Everything is so close in New England.”
“Same can be said for parts of California. We have deserts too,” he offered without hesitation, most of his neck now visible above his broad, muscular shoulders. A smug smile spread across his face. “I bet you can’t say that about New England.”
“No. Sand dunes but no deserts.” Shrugging, Roberta munched her fourth slice up to the crust, then broke the remaining crust in two. “Hey, guys! Pizza bones.” Both dogs, who had wandered back to Taylor’s knee, scurried over to her for their treat.
“Pizza what?” he asked, both eyebrows raised, his head tilted.
“Bones, pizza bones. Just a silly phrase for the crust.” She shrugged again. The dogs’ tails and behinds wiggled when she repeated the words. “No, guys, I’m sorry. All gone.” Roberta held up her empty hands in surrender. They abandoned her, going back to Taylor’s side.
“Here, boys.” He broke his own pizza bone in half for them before patting his abdomen. “Ugh. I think I ate too much. It was good.”
Roberta crumpled up her napkin and threw it down on her grease-stained paper plate. “Yeah, me too.” She took a long pull on her beer and caught Taylor’s grimace out of the corner of her eye.
