"Because I've been watching you for three months. You're drowning and everyone just keeps throwing you more weight."
"And you want to throw me a life preserver?" She studies me. "What do you get out of it?"
"The satisfaction of helping. And..." I decide on honesty. "I like you, Daisy. Have since you started. Watching you burn yourself out is killing me." My face is burning now. I’ve never been good at talking to women, which is why it took me so long to ask her out in the first place.
"So this is romantic interest disguised as life coaching?"
"It's both. But right now, you need the life coaching more."
"I need a lot of things." She looks at her plate. "Structure. Rules. Someone to make the hard decisions because I can't seem to make any decisions that protect myself."
"I can help with that."
"It's not your job."
"I'm volunteering. One week trial. Let me help you get things sorted. Set some boundaries. If it doesn't work, I'll back off. And if it does work, then we see where it goes."
She bites her lip, thinking. "I don't know how to accept help. That's the first thing we work on, I guess. No one’s ever made help me before."
"Their loss." I lean forward. "One week, Daisy. Let me help. What's the worst that could happen?"
"I could fall for you completely and you could realize I'm too much work."
"Or you could let someone take care of you for once and realize you deserve it."
We stare at each other across the table. Finally, she nods. "One week. But I probably can't change—"
"You already did. You said no to that injured dog. That's a start."
"I feel guilty about it."
"But you did it anyway. That's strength."
My phone buzzes. Text from John:Still at the vet? It's been two hours.
I show Daisy. "My friends are tracking my fake emergencies."
She laughs. "They know? Everyone knows? And Thor hasn't been subtle about his miraculous recoveries, has he?"
"He really is fine. Healthiest dog in Darkmore. Though he does have one real issue—attachment disorder. Gets attached to certain people." I look at her meaningfully. "Specifically, pretty veterinary assistants who give him treats."
She blushes. "I don't always give him treats."
"You gave him three last time."
"He has a very convincing face! So do you, apparently." She's trying not to smile. "How about dinner tonight? I can tell you about the foster situation, we'll make a plan."
"I'll pick you up at seven. No arguments."
"Bossy."
"You need bossy."
She doesn't deny it. Progress.
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Daisy
