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“Okay,” he said, arm raising. And, for a second, it seemed like maybe he was considering tucking some of my hair behind my ear. Or maybe that was wishful thinking on my part. In the end, it lowered and reached for my door behind me instead, holding it open to let me slip inside, then carefully closing it once I was in and buckled.
“Itfeelslike a date, doesn’t it, Matilda? Or can I call you Tilly?” I asked, looking at her in my rearview as I turned over the car.
Her ears perked up, but she turned her attention to nibbling her baby.
To say dinner was delayed would be a gross understatement. I actually almost felt bad by the time I was putting the plates out.
I mean, Matilda needed to go potty. Then I wanted to show her around the house, something she did anxiously, then with increasing enthusiasm, her tail waving, and her nose to the floor.
Then, of course, I couldn’t help but open my packages, throwing her new babies around the house, and setting up her food and water.
It was a whole process.
And during it, I kind of forgot all about cooking.
Wells didn’t complain, though. He was busy tossing toys for Matilda who showed no interest in actually bringing them back, just expecting him to throw different ones until he, inevitably, ran out, and had to walk around the house himself to collect them.
“This smells amazing,” Wells said as we sat down at the table. Matilda was dead asleep on the couch, which she decided was entirely hers once she realized she was allowed up on it.
It wasn’t even my best recipe, but it was one of my quicker ones, knowing I’d already stolen a lot of his time. And that he likely didn’t have much of it to begin with.
“Oh, my God,” I said, eyes huge.
“What?” he asked, tensing as he reached for his fork.
“Your dog! What about your dog?”
To that, he relaxed.
“He’s okay,” he assured me. “I have a dog walker during work hours. I just asked him to drop by one more time and feed Boss. This is not the first time I’ve been out late,” he added, shrugging. “And Boss has graduated from sleeping the sixteen hours a day of a normal adult dog to about twenty for a senior.”
“Oh, okay,” I said, relaxing. I mean, of course he had a plan for his dog. Only an irresponsible owner stayed out without a plan for their furry friends to eat and go potty.
I knew I’d already formed a plan in my head as I prepared the food that I would stop home every day on my lunch break to take out Matilda and give her some love.
True, she’d spent the last four months in a little pen in a shelter, and was likely used to not having much attention. But I wanted to do better for her.
“Fuck,” Wells groaned, and the sound was deep and almost primal. This time, when the shiver moved through me, it was low in my belly. Lower, even. Making me press my thighs tightly together under the table, and say a silent prayer that my completely inappropriate desire wasn’t etched all over my face. “This is amazing,” he added, reminding me that was what he was making that noise for. Not me.
My libido needed to relax.
Shouldn’t it have been traumatized from the events of that night?
“Yeah?” I asked, smiling at the way he was attacking his food. Like a starving man being given his first meal in weeks.
“Absolutely,” he said after chewing for a moment. “You missed your calling. You would have been a great chef.”
“I couldn’t take the stress of a kitchen,” I admitted. “I served to get me through college, and the chaos in the kitchen used to make my chest feel tight. For me, cooking is kind of meditative. I wouldn’t be able to do it under pressure.”
“If you are ever in need of a meditation session,” he said, pointing his fork at himself for a second before digging back in.
“I was thinking of making a lasagne tomorrow,” I said. And it wasn’t a complete lie. I had thought about it. For a split second before the words were out of my mouth. “If you want to help make some of it disappear. I mean… even if you just want to take some home with you,” I rushed to add, not wanting to sound too eager, too desperate.
“Lasagne is one of my favorite foods,” he admitted.
“You could bring Boss,” I suggested. “I mean, I don’t know if Matilda is great with other dogs. But it’s worth a try.”
“She was fine passing by them at the shelter,” Wells said. “And Boss is good with all dogs. It’s worth a try. It’s good to expose her to things now while she is learning what life here is going to be like.”
