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Still, I got through it all. This was harder than chatting in an empty conference room, and Cole’s encouraging smile makes me feel more secure.
Then his eyes flick over my shoulder, and he bites his lower lip before calling out, “Hey, boss.”
I whirl around, realizing that a woman came through the door at some point during my speech. She’s a sturdy-looking lady, with strong arms and her hair pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail.
And Cole just said she was his boss.
“Oh my gosh. I’m sorry. This was… I’m sorry,” I end lamely.
The woman stares at me, her gaze heavy and curious. “Do you really do all those things?”
“What things?” I try not to fidget under her scrutiny. Even though it was his idea, I hope Cole doesn’t get in trouble. He was just trying to help me.
“The things you just lectured the dogs about. Those programs.”
“Oh!” Not what I was expecting her to ask. “Yes. We do. The library is a public space, so it’s our responsibility to serve the public. Every member, whether they have a home or not.” I snap my mouth shut before I go back into my conference spiel.
The woman gives a sharp nod that I hope is one of approval. Then she turns to Cole. “You gonna take some dogs out, or just talk at them all night?”
My urge is to step in and defend him, but then I notice his smirk. “I’m gettin’ to it. Need to show Summer the way of it.”
His boss grunts, then turns her scrutiny back to me for a moment before speaking. “You’re smart. And you care. Ever think of a way your library can help these animals out, I’m interested in working together.” She heads toward the exit, throwing a last instruction over her shoulder at Cole. “Give her one of my cards on the way out.”
When I look to Cole, it’s to find him stepping up to my side.
“You did great.” His hands cup the back of my neck, massaging muscles I didn’t even realize had gone tense. “Want to walk a dog?”
Leaving off the conversation about my surprise audience, I grin up at him. “I think they deserve it after listening to me yammer.”
His smile is almost what I would call sweet.
Over the next half hour, I get an introduction to handling the animals. None of the ones Cole has me work with are aggressive, just wildly energetic. But I get that. If I had to spend the majority of the day in my studio apartment, I’d be ricocheting off the walls and begging for someone to open the door, too.
Once I’m comfortable walking a dog on my own, Cole chooses two animals that get along well, Bunny and Calamari, for us to take out together. We walk them around the grounds, then all four of us enter a smaller gated running area where we can take off the leashes.
The two dogs take a couple of laps, sniffing every corner on their way. Cole hands me tennis balls to chuck, and I find myself laughing at the silly puppies charging after the yellow balls.
“You’re good with them. Ever think about adopting?” Cole hooks a finger in the belt loop of my jeans, fiddling with the material as we watch the dogs wrestle.
All the time.I want to say. Wouldn’t it be glorious to give a home to one of these poor creatures? To love and care for them. To get back from work and be greeted with enthusiasm and devotion.
But then an image creeps into my brain.
A dead bird, lying neatly on my front mat.
“Maybe one day. I’m just too busy right now.” My excuse is lame and flimsy, but Cole doesn’t push, for which I’m thankful.
If I brought a pet into my life, I know I’d worry all the time that whoever my stalker is might take offense and harm the animal in some way. I could never live with myself if that happened.
A burning anger fills my chest. This specter is always out of sight, but still somehow present, affecting my life choices. Hindering my freedom. Demanding a say when they have no right.
All because I’m scared of them. What they’ll do to me.
What they might do to something I care about.
My eyes skip over to Cole then as he steps away to throw another tennis ball far across the fenced area, a rare grin adorning his mouth as Bunny rockets after the toy. The sight of his relaxed joy has me rubbing my chest. And I wonder if he’s more of a danger to me, or if I’m more of a danger to him.
As if my tormentor knew about my angry thoughts, later that night, when I arrive home, there’s another envelope waiting for me on my front mat.
