That explains it.
The slam of Vic’s car boot has us both glancing up, and Vic appears in a winter coat similar to Joe’s.
“Dad’s going to adopt a rescue dog,” Joe says. He looks at Vic with a tilt of his chin, like he’s daring him to deny it.
Vic sighs, and I suspect this isn’t something he’s totally on board with.
Yet.
Because I can see the determination in Joe’s eyes and the fond look in Vic’s. Yeah, he’s totally going to give in. But no one should take adopting a dog lightly. It’s a big responsibility, sometimes more than people realise. I’m about to say as much when Vic walks closer and sets a hand on Joe’s shoulder.
“I said I’dthinkabout it. I need to talk to my sister first.”
Joe’s smile says it’s a done deal.
“You have a dog in mind?” I ask.
Vic turns to face me, the green in his hazel eyes more prominent out in the daylight. He has thick dark lashes and eyebrows that are suspiciously neat. I used to think he was one of the prettiest guys I’d ever seen. Even years later he’s still got that delicate quality to him, polished in a way I never am. The stubble he’s got going on adds a little roughness to his appearance, and those old feelings of attraction rise rapidly to the surface.
It would be so easy to embrace them. Vic’s hot, there’s no denying that, but I’m not nineteen anymore and neither is he. We have responsibilities, and one of his is currently looking between the two of us with narrowed eyes and I realise we’ve been staring at one another without saying anything.
Vic must notice too, because he rubs the back of his neck and focuses on Lucky. “There’s one that Joe thinks would be a good fit.”
I raise an eyebrow because if it’s going to be Vic’s dog, then he needs to make that decision. I keep quiet this time because no way am I sticking my big size-eleven foot in that.
Joe stands and pulls a leaflet out of his pocket. He thrusts it towards me. “This is Jax.”
I stare down at the sweet face of a blue Staffordshire bull terrier. “She’s gorgeous.” I smile, but it’s tinged with sadness because there are too many dogs in shelters. I’d adopt them all if I could. “I’m sure she won’t be in there long, whether your dad adopts her or not.”
Joe grunts and shoves the paper back in his pocket.
Vic wraps an arm around him and squeezes his shoulder, and I can almost feel him giving in. “Why don’t you go and see if your mum needs a hand with anything?”
Oh.
I’m not sure I’m ready for achatwith Vic.
Alone.
Joe glances between us, and from the sudden smirk, I wonder if he knows about mine and Vic’s very brief past. The eye roll that follows confirms it for me. “I’ll go help Mum with that imaginarything.” He doesn’t go as far as to use air quotes, but he might as well have done.
When he’s out of earshot, Vic sighs. “I wasn’t expecting to run into you while I was here.” He chuckles but still isn’t looking at me. “At least not so soon anyway.”
I shrug. “If it’s any consolation, I didn’t even know you were coming. Hailey never said anything.”
“I didn’t realise you two were so friendly?”
“We’re not.” I amend that because it sounds like I don’t like her, and I do. “I mean I’ve only spoken to her a few times since she moved here. Char’s sister introduced us when they first arrived. I happened to be in the pub at the time. We didn’t recognise each other straight away, but after names were exchanged, it clicked and we chatted for a bit. I offered to help them both with getting the pub back up and running.”
He raises an eyebrow. “That’s awfully generous of you.”
“It’s a tight-knit community. Well, mostly. The pub’s a local favourite—we want to see it stay open.” I can see he’s not convinced, and I don’t blame him. Unless you’ve lived somewhere like this, then the idea probably seems odd. “What are you doing up here?” I sound way too accusatory, as though he has no business being here, and he flinches. “Sorry.” I glance down at my feet, hoping he puts the sudden redness in my cheeks down to the cold air. Speaking of which, I really need to get my hat and gloves out of my car. “I was just surprised to see you.”
Vic laughs. “Same.”
I tuck my hands in my coat pockets to keep them warm. “So...” I wonder how to start a conversation that’s been eighteen years in the making.
“So,” he echoes.
