“Don’t.”
“I’m not doing anything. I’m just standing here. Observing.” She paused. “You watched that man for forty-five minutes the way I watch HGTV. And IloveHGTV.”
“I was watching the demonstration.”
“You were watchinghim. And he was watching you, by the way. Every time Jolly did something impressive, his eyeswent to you first. Not the kids. Not the teachers.You. Like he wanted to make sure you saw it.”
I didn’t have a response for that, because she was right, and we both knew it.
“I’m just saying.” Trish squeezed my arm. “Whenever you’re ready. For whatever this is. I’m here. To babysit, I mean. William can come to our house anytime.” She gave me a look that was equal parts warmth and implication, then headed for the exit with her clipboard tucked under her arm.
I stood there for a moment. Then I walked toward the far end of the gym where Ben was packing up.
Jolly was off leash now, wandering between the bleacher rows with his nose to the floor, investigating the archaeological record of snack crumbs left behind by the entire student body. His harness was off, and without it, he moved differently. Looser, goofier, tail swinging as he investigated a candy wrapper with an intensity that suggested he’d never encountered anything so fascinating in his entire life.
Ben was crouching beside the duffel, packing equipment. He looked up when I approached.
“So. You’re good with kids.”
“Jolly’s good with kids. I just gave the commands.”
“Ben, you had every child in this school sitting in dead silence while you explained detection protocols. That’s not the dog. That’s you.” I sat on the bottom bleacher. “Where did that come from? Mr. Two-Word Sentences?”
“I talk when there’s something worth saying.”
“You talked for forty-five minutes straight.”
“I had material.” He zipped the duffel and straightened. Stood there, a few feet away, with Jolly nosing around behind him and the gym settling into quiet around us. “William’s moment. When he explained the passive alert.” He paused. “That was something.”
“He watches Jolly through the fence. Apparently, he’s been taking notes.”
“I could tell.” Ben looked at me, and the professional composure he’d worn during the assembly was gone now. What replaced it was the same openness I’d seen last night when I’d pulled back from the kiss. Like a door he usually kept shut had been left ajar, and he wasn’t in a hurry to close it.
“Last night,” he said.
My heart rate picked up. “Last night.”
“I’ve been thinking about it.”
“Me too.”
He nodded. Didn’t look away. “I’m not great at this part. The talking part.”
“I hadn’t noticed.”
The corner of his mouth moved. Another not-quite-a-smile smile. “I just want you to know that I’m not going to pretend it didn’t happen. And I’m not in a rush to figure out what it means. I’d just like to keep spending time with you.”
It was the most words I’d ever heard him string together about something personal. Each one sounded like it had been carefully chosen, weighed, and placed exactly where he wanted it.
“I’d like that too,” I said.
Jolly trotted over and pushed his nose into my hand. I scratched behind his ears, and he leaned into me with his full weight and his full trust.
“I should get him home,” Ben said. “He’s had a big morning.”
“He deserves a nap and about fifty pinecones.”
“At least.” He shouldered the duffel, clicked his tongue, and Jolly moved to his left side. He took a step toward the door, then stopped and looked back at me. “See you tonight? At the fence?”
