It’s too late to leave. Too late to change my mind. Too late to abort this completely insane plan.
“Grim?” Her voice sounds surprised, and I turn to look at her like I’ve just noticed she’s there.
Act shocked.
Her face is pink, and she lets out a nervous little giggle. “Of course it’s you. I knew that. I just didn’t expect to see you here.” She narrows her eyes.
“Oh, um… Hi,” I tell her, injecting surprise into my voice. “Do you live around here?”
I’m such an asshole.
“Yes, just up the road, actually.” She glances over her shoulder, gesturing in the complete opposite direction from where she actually lives.
Humans have zero sense of direction.
“And you?” she asks, her pretty eyes studying my face. “Do you live around here?”
I shake my head. “I had an errand to run near here and decided to come to the park for a while,” I lie some more. “I find I can relax when I’m in nature, and it’s been a…” I trail off for a moment. “It’s been a tough week,” I admit, and it’s true, it has.
Her face morphs into concern, her eyebrows drawing together.
“Yeah.” She nods a few times. “I heard about the complaint against you.”
I school my emotions. There was never actually a complaint filed, but Sally’s story has spread through the clinic, and it serves my purpose perfectly. I nod a few times and make a sound of agreement.
“Just for the record,” Wren says, her voice soft, “I think it’s wrong that someone did that. You don’t need to change because of them. You’re fine just the way you are, Grim.” She bites on her lip, and I have to force myself to lift my eyes back to hers.
Something warm unfurls in my chest at her words. She’s defending me. This sweet, kind woman is standing up for me, and I’m using her.
I shrug. “Actually, I do need to make more effort. Perhaps I came on a bit strong, and you’re right, it isn’t me. I’m not some happy-go-lucky, chatty male, but I could do better than I have been doing. I haven’t been myself lately. It…um…I…”
Shit! Why did I say that?
I need to redirect and fast.
“I like your dogs.” I look down at the two fluffballs at her feet. They wag their tails enthusiastically as soon as the attention turns to them, their whole bodies wiggling with excitement. “And what are your names?”
I drop down to my haunches, and they immediately jump on me, their little paws scratching at my jeans as they compete for attention. I scratch behind their ears, and they practically melt.
“The one on the left is Ball,” Wren says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “And on the right is Breaker.”
I look up at her, then back down at the dogs. “Ball and Breaker?”
She nods, her eyes dancing.
Laughter bubbles up from deep in my belly. It’s short, barely more than a few seconds, but it’s real. For the first time in forever, I actually laugh.
It feels good. Too good.
“Actually,” Wren says, her face going even pinker, “that was a silly joke. They’re called Peanut and Butter after one of my favorite foods.” She gestures to each dog in turn. “Sorry. It was stupid. I make silly jokes when I’m nervous.”
It isn’t lost on me that peanut butter is one of her favorites. I’m not sure if I love or hate that.
“It wasn’t silly. It was funny. Why are you nervous?”
The question is out before I can stop it. I know exactly why she’s nervous. I know she likes me.
She shrugs, not meeting my eyes. “I’m shy, and we don’t really know each other, even though we’ve been working together for a while.”
