“Bathroom break?” I guess.
Another whine.
“All right, all right.” I laugh. “Let’s get you outside before you implode.”
He prances toward the door, nails ticking on the floor. I push open the back door, and the cool air washes over my ankles as he trots out quickly and disappears into the night.
Two minutes pass.
Five.
Eight.
I frown. “Where’d you go, troublemaker?”
He never takes this long, unless he’s found a squirrel uprising to dismantle. Just as I’m about to go call him, my phone rings.
“Human-Jason,” the robotic voice says.
My heart lurches, flips, and probably does a cartwheel as I fumble to accept the call.
“Hello,” I say a little breathlessly.
“Hey,” Jason says.
Just hearing him makes my spine straighten. There’s something different in his voice tonight, something warm and purposeful, like melted chocolate. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to skip over the sex scene.
“I—hi,” I croak.
Smooth. Really smooth, Violet.
“I was wondering,” he says, “if you’d like to go out with me.”
Cartwheels it is. “Like… a date?” I whisper.
“A proper one,” he confirms. “I want to cook for you. Something nice. And, if you’re comfortable… I’d like to walk with you. There’s a trail not far from your house. A quiet placeoverlooking the sanctuary’s fields. I thought we could have a picnic.”
My stomach flutters so intensely, and I swear my kidneys join in.
“That sounds lovely,” I say, trying to slow my voice so I don’t sound like I’m hyperventilating into a paper bag.
“And,” he adds, amusement threaded through his tone, “since we’ve been working Dog-Jason hard lately with all the trips to the grocery store, I thought he deserved the night off. I put together a gift basket for him.”
That makes me laugh, the sound bubbling out before I can stop it. “You made my dog a gift basket?”
“I did,” he says proudly. “With treats. And one of those ridiculous squeaky chickens. And a bandanna.”
“You’ll spoil him.”
“I spoil whoever I like,” he replies softly.
Oh.
Okay.
Deep breaths. Don’t swoon. Don’t puddle. Don’t melt directly into the floor tiling.
But then nerves take over. “Uh…I have a confession.”
