“Walkies,” Lucy said halfheartedly, and stuffed a few dog biscuits into her pocket, which got the dogs up and out of their beds, at least. They still trembled, and suddenly it made her sad. “What happened to you,” she asked them, “to make you so nervous? I promise you, I’m not going to hurt you.”
Milly and Molly didn’t look convinced.
Still, with the help of a few dog biscuits she got their leads on and them out the door, then heading down Beach Road. The wind was brisk but surprisingly refreshing, and although the sky was still gray, at least it wasn’t raining anymore. Quite a few people were out, Lucy noticed. Children rode bikes and scooters, and several couples were walking with a rather determined briskness that suggested pedometers and heart monitors were involved.
There were also plenty of dogs, of different shapes and sizes, all of them heading with their owners towards the beach.
The tide was completely out when Lucy reached the beach, an endless stretch of wet sand that was churned up joyfully underneath a thousand dogs’ paws. Milly and Molly were straining at their leads to get out there, although Lucy wasn’t sure she should risk it. What if they ran off and she couldn’t get them back? She imagined telling Juliet she’d lost her dogs and shuddered.
But it wasn’t really much of a walk if they didn’t get their playtime at the beach, and so with some trepidation she released them. They were both off like shots, quivering with ecstasy or fear, probably both, as they tore down the beach towards the sea. Lucy had brought one of Juliet’s old tennis balls for them, but they didn’t seem much interested in it, much happier to simply race about and frisk and play with the other dogs.
Lucy stood for a while watching them, her hands in the pockets of her waterproof, her shoulders hunched against the wind. She exchanged a few friendly smiles with other dog walkers, and felt a surprising satisfaction and pleasure in the simple act of having gotten here, in having the stiff, salty wind sting her cheeks. Then she heard a frenzied, terrified barking, and with a lurch of alarm she knew something had gone wrong.
She searched the beach, the shapes of dogs blurring as her eyes watered from the wind; finally she saw Milly and Molly coweringfrom a rather fat black Lab who looked, Lucy thought, a bit overeager but unlikely to hurt a fly, much less two greyhounds.
She marched off towards the dogs, calling their names and snapping her fingers to seemingly no purpose, when her step faltered and her heart stilled and then sank as she saw the owner of the black Lab.
Alex Kincaid.
He hadn’t seemed like a dog person, was her first irrelevant thought as she approached. Alex had managed to get a lead around the Lab’s neck and was pulling the dog to heel. The dog, Lucy saw with some amusement, had dug his paws into the sand and was resisting with all his might. She remembered her little fantasy about walking through the fields with a black Lab and nearly started laughing.
“Milly, Molly,” she called, and then she did laugh at Alex’s expression when he caught sight of her. He looked like she was the last person he wanted to be the owner of the dogs that his own dog was frightening.
“Sorry,” he bit out as he pulled on the dog’s lead. “He’s not very well trained, I’m afraid.”
Lucy looped the leads around Milly’s and Molly’s heads with an easy confidence that was both amazing and faked. “Now, that surprises me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I would have expected your dog to come to heel at just a look,” Lucy answered. “Ipractically do.”
For a second she thought he was going to smile; the corner of his mouth tugged upwards slightly, but then his expression ironed out. “I’m not that terrifying, surely.”
“Trust me, you are.” She kept her voice light, maybe even the tiniest bit flirtatious. Alex was so good-looking it was hardnotto flirt. “I have to give myself a pep talk in the mirror every morning before I go into school.”
His mouth tugged upwards again, but only briefly. “I think that might be your issue, not mine.”
She laughed, enjoying this banter. “Actually, you might have a point there.” She nodded towards the fat Lab. “So why isn’t he well trained?”
“No time. Getting a dog was a somewhat ill-conceived notion on my part, I’m afraid, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“It always does, I suppose.”
He glanced down at Milly and Molly, who had been butting Lucy’s legs rather insistently with their long, pointed noses. “Those are Juliet’s two. Are you much of a dog person, then?”
“Not really. I’ve never had one of my own, anyway.”
Lucy could feel the conversation petering out and she wished it wouldn’t. She’d enjoyed the round of gentle teasing, was ridiculously glad that Alex Kincaid did, in fact, possess at least a small sense of humor.
The sky had darkened ominously as they’d chatted, and now the first few raindrops spattered onto the sand, the heavy, large kind that almost always preceded a torrential downpour. Even so, Lucy didn’t want to leave.
“Look,” she blurted before she could lose her nerve, “it looks like it’s about to rain. Again. How about a cup of coffee?” She nodded towards the beach café at the end of the promenade. “My treat.”
He stared at her for a moment, looking so nonplussed that Lucy felt as if she’d suggested something utterly inappropriate. And maybe she had. Maybe you didn’t offer to buy your boss a cup of coffee. Did he think she was asking him out?
Was she?
No, she just wanted a friend, even if it was grumpy Alex Kincaid. Someone to talk to over a hot drink. Was that too much to ask?
