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“I’ve been castrating dogs all day,” Ezra objected. “Not collecting village gossip.”
“He doesn’t want to tell, he means,” Roxanne said. She turned around and yelled, “Martin! Catch up! Slow down, you guys. I want to hear more.”
Martin came up, puffing hard, and said, “Have I mentioned that I hate running? Why are Montana mountains sosteep?”
“Because they’re the Rockies,” Ezra said. “It’s good for your heart, and I want to keep your heart beating.”
“I hate you,” Martin said, and Ezra laughed.
“Distract yourself,” Roxanne said. “Tell us about Beckett Hughes in traffic court. How did you keep a straight face?” she asked Quinn.
Quinn didn’t answer, but she didn’t have to, because Martin said, “He brought his kids. Much cuteness. They talked, and the judge here had to shut them up.”
“Aw,” Terrell said, “you’re no fun, Quinn. What else?”
“Nothing else,” Quinn said. “He came in, he paid his fine, case closed.”
“Not what I heard,” Martin said.
“Ooh,” Roxanne said. “What?”
“Iheard,” Martin said, “that the judge had met him before. On the very day he got pulled over. She met him, and she met the kids, isn’t that right?”
“Yes.” Quinn knew she sounded stiff. She couldn’t help it. “Briefly. They were rescuing a dog.” She wasn’t mentioning the crows, or how she’d pretty much bolted for the exits there. Losing her nerve, which she didn’t permit, just because she’d met an attractive man.
“Even better,” Martin said. “Meet cute. You bonded over a dog. Sexy widower. SexyAustralianwidower. Could be just what you need. Of course, you sentenced him, so …”
Ezra said, “Maybe she doesn’twanta sexy Australian widower. Maybe she’s sufficient unto herself.”
“Yeah, right,” Martin said. “Like you were? Surviving by yourself isn’tsufficientunto yourself, however terrifyingly accomplished you are. People, people who need people, are the luckiest—”
“No singing,” Quinn said. “Just no.”
Martin sighed. “So tell. Did sparks fly?”
She knew Martin. He wouldn’t stop unless she told him straight out to stop, and did she want to do that? She’d had the best conversations of her life, at least since she’d stopped swimming competitively and ceased having actual bonding moments, since joining this group. People bonded by sharing, they said, not just by suffering together. Weird, but that meant she needed to share. She said, “Not in the way you mean. He and his kids found this dog. Not a homeless dog. A neglected one, though, I’d say. And I guess they kept it.”
“Bacon,” Ezra said.
“Bacon?” Quinn asked.
“The dog’s name,” Ezra said. “Cute. The kids named it. It’s a chug. Chihuahua-pug mix. Designer dog, actually.”
“So you have a dog that can’t breathe rightandbarks like a maniac and tries to bite your ankles?” Roxanne asked. “And people pay extra for that? I’ll pass.”
“So why didn’t sparks fly?” Martin asked, clearly un-distractible.
“I was probably bossy,” Quinn said reluctantly. “About the dog.”
Roxanne said, “We should strike that word from the lexicon. Does a man ever get described as bossy? No, he does not. Why is that? Because he’ssupposedto be bossy. We call it assertive. Decisive. Manly. You were assertive, is that right?”
It doesn’t matter what you call it,Quinn thought,if every straight man hates it.She wasn’t going to say anything, but somehow, she was saying it anyway. “Do I want to go on keeping myself under wraps? Turning off the judge as soon as I leave the courthouse, and telling a guy he’s so smart and he has such good ideas, when I know I’ve got something to say? Something toadd?Even if it’s challenging?”
“No,” Martin said. “You just have to find a guy with an ego strong enough to take it. And who can fight back if he needs to. Call each other on your stuff, that’s the idea.”
“Yeah,” Quinn said, “but there aren’t enough men like that.”
“How do you know?” That wasn’t Martin. It was Ezra. He said it quietly, the way Ezra usually said things, but still. She was surprised.
