“Yeah?”
“I’m nervous about leaving Dog-Jason. Silly, right? Since I’ve only had him a few weeks.”
“Not silly at all. But I will be your eyes for the night, and I promise you, I will not let anything happen to you.”
I feel everything he’s saying. I know in my bones he means what he says. I breathe out a sigh of relief.
“So,” I say, twisting the hem of my shirt absentmindedly, “when did you want to do this date?”
“Whenever you want,” he answers immediately.
The confidence is intoxicating.
I swallow. “What about… right now?”
There’s a beat of silence, then a knock at my front door.
My breath escapes in an embarrassing, starstruck rush. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” he replies, the smile audible.
I hang up and somehow manage not to sprint to the door like a deranged penguin. My hand finds the knob, twists, and his scent washes over me. I swear it hits me in the knees first. Cedar, spice, and something else I can’t put my finger on.
“You’re ridiculous,” I say, grinning despite myself. “What would you have done if I’d said next Wednesday?”
“Figured something out,” he says lightly. “Maybe hidden under your porch. Climbed a tree. Hung from your gutter. I’m committed.”
A laugh bursts out of me, bright and loud, and he laughs with me. Our sounds blend and fill the doorway with something warm and new. Something that feels suspiciously like hope.
“Hi,” he murmurs.
“Hi,” I echo, my smile stretching so wide it almost hurts.
He steps in, close but not touching, then leans forward, slow enough for me to sense it before it happens, and brushes his lips against my cheek. Just the lightest graze. Barely there. But it lights my skin like someone flipped a switch.
“Oh,” I breathe.
His voice drops lower. “If you want to get ready, I can start prepping downstairs. Take your time.”
Suddenly, I’m flustered and warm and jittery and excited and terrified all at once.
“Yes,” I manage. “Okay. I’ll… shower. And stuff.”
“Perfect,” he murmurs. “I’ll be right here.”
I step back, placing my hand on the wall to orient myself, then head upstairs. Clothes hit the floor. Water roars to life. Steam envelops me. I scrub too fast. Rinse too fast. Everything feels like it’s happening in double-time but also slow enough tomake me aware of every heartbeat. By the time I’m dressed in a pretty blouse, fitted jeans, and a dab of perfume along my throat, I hear Dog-Jason’s heavy paws padding toward my room.
“There you are,” I whisper, bending to stroke his ears. “I was worried.”
He noses my palm, warm and reassuring.
“You get the night off,” I tell him, smiling. “Jason said so. I guess… he’s my eyes tonight.”
He presses his forehead to my thigh, and it feels like he’s giving me his blessing.
“Wish me luck,” I whisper.
He noses my wrist with gentle encouragement.
