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“Paw,” Adam says. Isaac lifts his paw.
“High five,” Adam commands. Isaac gives him a high five.
“Low five.” Then, “Fist Bump.”
“Impressive skills,” I say to Isaac.
Adam gives him some bread with brie on it and Isaac wags his little stub of a tail happily.
I lean back in my chair and analyze this enigma of a man next to me. He has wonderful staff who are friendly, funny, and kind. Even his assistant, Cruz, seems cool. He loves his animals. Yet, when it comes to women, he’s…afraid of commitment and perhaps afraid to get hurt again? So, does he want to remain a playboy with his sex-toy closet forever?
“Why are you staring at me like that?” he asks.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re trying to see if I have any neurons firing in my brain.” He gives me a quizzical look.
I purse my lips before answering. “Just trying to figure you out.”
“Good luck with that,” he mutters.
I take one last sip of my wine. “What shall we do now?” I ask as I look around us.
“Are you kids all done?” Mrs. Potter says from the doorway.
I jump and clutch my chest. “You scared me!” I yelp and then smile at her.
“I’m sorry, my dear. I’m here to clear the table,” she says with a warm mischievous smile.
“Or…you’re spying on us,” Adam calls her bluff.
Her grin widens. “Maybe,” she says as she places our plates on a wheeling cart. “Can I get you kids anything else, or shall I exit the room before you use the table for other festivities?” she asks.
“Petunia,” Adam grumbles, his cheeks turning a little red.
I laugh. “We’re all done, Mrs. Potter. And I am not sure about the table, but who knows, maybe later,” I add with a wink.
She pats the wooden tabletop. “Thomas and I have enjoyed many a night on our kitchen table. Never underestimate a good, solid wood table.” She pauses and looks at Adam. I’ve never seen this man get exasperated before, but right now, he looks like he wants to sink into the floor. “Anything else, Mr. Wellington?”
“That’ll be all, Mrs. Potter,” he says from behind clenched teeth.
She smiles. “Have a nice evening. I’m going to take care of these dishes and head home,” she says to us, giving me one more wink on her way out the door.
I lean toward Adam. “Do you think she’s been drinking? She’s so…sassy tonight,” I ask as I look back toward the door to the kitchen.
Adam laughs. “She can be…sassybut she’s never been quite thissassybefore.”
“Well, good for her and Mr. Potter. Their senior sex life seems epic,” I mutter.
Adam looks at me. “And yours isn’t?”
I give him a credulous look. “I’m a librarian.”
“And?” he prods.
“I live above a bakery café with a giant dog,” I add.
“So?”
