“I’ll be there.”
He held my gaze for one more moment. Then he turned and walked out with Jolly at his side, the gym doors swinging shut behind them.
I sat on the bleacher and listened to the quiet settle. Somewhere down the hall, kids were filing back into classrooms, their voices carrying faintly through the cinder block walls. Outside, an engine started in the parking lot.
I pressed my fingers to my lips without meaning to. Then I dropped my hand, stood up, and went to find my car.
Chapter 13
Ben
Donovan was staring at me like I’d grown a second head.
He’d been doing it for the better part of ten minutes, ever since I’d made the mistake of telling him where I’d been that morning. He was leaning against my kitchen counter with a beer in his hand and an expression that fell somewhere between awe and clinical fascination.
“A school assembly,” he said. “An elementary school assembly.”
“It was a K9 demonstration. Jolly and I have done them before. Hell, you have too.”
“We’ve done them for law enforcement conferences. Military training facilities. Corporate security expos.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “Not for rooms full of six-year-olds sitting crisscross applesauce on a gym floor.”
“They sit in rows, actually.”
“Oh, well. That changes everything.” He took a sip of his beer. “When you called this morning and said you had ameeting, I assumed you meant Rawlings. Or maybe Vance. Possibly even a secret rendezvous with someone from NASA. Instead, you were performing for children.”
“Jolly was performing. I was just holding the leash.”
“Does the Nobel committee know about this? Because I feel like there should be some kind of humanitarian award for a man who willingly subjects himself to a couple hundred screaming kids before nine in the morning.”
I rolled my eyes. “For fuck’s sake. It wasn’t that bad.”
“Of course it wasn’t. You probably loved it.” He studied me over the rim of his beer. “How many kids asked if Jolly could find their missing pets?”
“One cat.”
“And how many asked if he sleeps in your bed?”
I didn’t answer that.
“He does, doesn’t he?” Donovan grinned. “Big, tough K9 handler. Sleeps with his dog.”
As if Donovan’s K9 hadn’t always slept with him too. “He has his own bed. He just doesn’t always use it.”
“The kids must have eaten that shit up.” He set his beer down and crossed his arms. “So, let me get this straight. You’re telling me the school had some reptile show lined up, it fell through, and you just happened to volunteer?”
“Kayla mentioned it. The assembly was about to be canceled. Two hundred kids were going to be devastated. Jolly and I were available.”
“Kayla mentioned it.” He repeated the name like he was tasting it. “And you said yes because you’re such a generous member of the community.”
“I said yes because it wasn’t a big deal.”
“Right. No big deal. Just Ben Garrison, the man who once told me he’d rather eat glass than make small talk, standing in front of a gym full of first graders giving a forty-five-minute presentation. Because his neighbormentionedit.”He picked his beer back up. “This neighbor. The one who drinks lemon ginger tea.”
“Are you done?”
“Oh, not even remotely.” He was enjoying himself far too much. “Tell me something, Ben. When’s the last time you volunteered for anything that didn’t involve a firearm or a security clearance?”
I opened my mouth. Closed it.
