Thisis a whine. A sad, mournful,I love steak dinners but I can’t movekind of deep, thick, long whine.
“Aww, he knows you’re a dog person.” Zen holds a hand out to me. “Can you move? Or do we need to call for help?”
“I can move.”
“You’re acting like you’re eighty-six instead of thirty-something.”
“That young?” Sabrina says to them. “And how old are you?”
“Donotanswer that.” I pull myself up to my full height.
The dog presses against my legs and almost takes me down again, but Sabrina grabs my arm and steadies me.
Lightning streaks up my arm and hits a bulls-eye in my chest, and I’m back in Hawaii, strolling down a dark sidewalk toward my hotel, with her grabbing my arm and pulling me out of the way of a bicyclist hurtling down the path like I didn’t have over a foot and at least eighty pounds on her.
One more good deed?I’d asked her.
She’d licked her finger and made a tally mark in the air, and I’d gone hard as a diamond.
Having her touch me again?
Nearly the same reaction.
Fucking hell.
I still like her. I understand why she ghosted me. Irespectwhat she’s doing here.
This woman has the power to hurt me, and she’s already demonstrated she will without hesitation under the right circumstances.
I jerk back, keeping my balance out of sheer determination to not mortify myself again.
“You’re gonna want boots with better tread,” she tells me as if we’re normal acquaintances and not two people who slept together under questionable circumstances. “We get plowed last in our little circle, and since we face north on top of that, we tend to be the iciest around here.”
Do not think about plowing her. Do not think about plowing her. Think about ice. Icy, cold, nasty ice.
“Find a new rental,” I tell Zen.
“I got your suitcase, mister!” The little girl who was sitting on Sabrina’s step dashes over the icy parking area like it’s nothing, dragging my suitcase behind her. The other one is lying on its side next to the dog.
“That was super nice of you, Aspen,” Sabrina says.
“I know,” the girl replies.
Zen snickers.
Sabrina smiles at her. “We should get you home. You ready?”
“Can Jitter come?”
“That’s my plan. Go get him a treat and call for him.”
The young girl dashes off to Sabrina’s porch.
“And I should get you inside,” Zen says to me. “Can you walk? Does it hurt?”
“I’m fine.” I’ll be bruised, but I’m fine.
My ego’s more at stake here.
