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“Right, of course not.” I smiled. He didn’t. Figures. “It’s just something I do for each business. I don’t know if you know this, but Honey Creek is a very dog-friendly town—and Walter-friendly.”
“Who’s Walter?”
“Walter is the community cat that wanders,” I explained, pointing toward the orange cat a few stops down drinking from the ice cream shop’s water dish. “So I hand craft each store a unique bowl to help keep the pups hydrated on their daily walks.”
He grumbled and crossed his arms over his apron covered in flour. I wondered if that was a Mary Sue flour mess or one of his own. “I’m not paying you for that.”
I arched an eyebrow. “I already told you it’s free. Just a nice ‘welcome to Main Street’ gift.”
“I don’t want your gift. Get rid of it,” he shot out, his eyes seeming colder than the previous few unpleasant times we’d crossed paths. His grumpiness meter was at an all-time high that morning.
“It’s free,” I stated again. “It doesn’t hurt anyone.”
“It hurts my business, and I don’t want it here.”
“Why are you being a jerk about it? It’s just a water dish!”
“One I didn’t request. Now, remove it or I will.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and stood tall. Even with me standing as tall as possible, I still appeared so small next to his broad frame. “No. It won’t even bother you.”
“I can assure you that seeing dogs slobber and slurp up water from outside my restaurant will bother me.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re being dramatic.”
“And you’re being rude. I didn’t ask for this, so remove it before I do it myself.”
“Rude?!” I blurted out, stunned by his word choice. My hands flew to my chest. “I am the opposite of rude. I get along with everyone. People like me.”
“Not everyone,” he uttered, his words dripping with annoyance. “I don’t like you.”
My breath caught in my throat as I looked at him, bewildered by his statement. “You don’t even know me!”
“I know you let your dog crap wherever it pleases, and that you try to leave water bowls around even when people don’t want them. Don’t push your dog obsession onto me, Goldie.”
“Goldie.”
“Like those annoying golden retriever dogs. That’s you, Goldie.”
“Did you just mean-nickname me?”
“I did, Goldie.”
“Don’t call me Goldie!”
“I can and I will.”
What was wrong with this creature? “Why are you so mean?”
“Because I can be.”
“Just because you can be mean doesn’t mean you should. You could be nice, you know. That’s an option.”
“Nice like you?”
“Yes. Nice like me.”
He huffed. “You’re not nice.”
“What? Yes, I am.”
“No, you’re not. Nice people don’t say they’re nice. Self-conscious, trying too hard people say they’re nice because they are overly obsessed with people liking them.”
“I don’t care if people like me!” I remarked, which was indeed a lie. I did care. I cared so deeply that if I misspoke to a person, I’d overthink it for hours after the interaction. But I didn’t need grumpy-no-water-dish to call me out on my flaws and insecurities. I already overthought them enough for us both.
“Well, that’s a good thing because I don’t like you, and you need to take that stupid dog dish and get away from my restaurant!” he shouted. The veins in his neck popped out as he waved his hands in dismissal. His eyes were on me, but they looked so very far away. They swam with rage, or wait…sadness? When he blinked, his eyes looked so sad. As if he was trying his hardest to keep it together.
“What’s wrong with you?” I asked, confused about his harsh tone. Sure, we hadn’t had the best interactions, but the severity of his anger seemed very misdirected. No one could be that upset over a water dish.
“You!” he yelled. “You’re what’s wrong with me! This whole stupid town is what’s wrong with me! This stupid town and their stupid water bowls for their stupid dogs and stupid Walter the cat! This stupid town and their vandalizing, and gossiping mouths, and dumb traditions! This stupid town and how badly they treated her when she was nothing but good!” he hollered, his eyes glassing over with tears and rage and hurt.
So much hurt.
Oh gosh. What happened to this man?
“Who was nothing but good?” I whispered, confused by his words.
He blinked as the rage simmered. He blinked as those tears fought not to fall from his eyes. He blinked, and I saw it—his true self. His hurt self.
He shook it off quickly, and his stare hardened again.
“Nothing. It’s nothing. Just go, will you?” he hissed.
“Alex,” a voice said, interrupting our argument. Well, more so his argument with the whole world of Honey Creek. I didn’t even think he was shouting at me anymore. His frustration seemed too harsh over a water bowl.
“What?” he continued yelling as he turned around to see the stranger standing on the sidewalk. The moment he locked eyes with the guy, his anger dissipated. “What are you doing here?” Alex asked.
