Always is.
Another pause. Ryan watched the three dots appear and disappear on his screen. Finally, I’ll let you get back to work. But I’m thinking Saturday for that coffee. If you’re free.
Saturday. That was two days away. Ryan typed: I’m free.
Great. I’ll text you details tomorrow?
Sounds perfect.
He saved the conversation and slipped his phone back into his pocket. His face hurt from smiling. The mastiff was still watching him, and he wondered if dogs could sense this kind of thing, the giddy, ridiculous feeling that made everything seem brighter and more possible.
“I have a date,” he told her quietly. “Sort of. It’s just coffee, but still…”
She blinked at him slowly.
“Yeah, I know. I’m being silly.”
But he didn’t feel silly. He felt light and hopeful and already counting down the hours until Saturday.
The rest of his shift passed in a blur of routine tasks and stolen glances at his phone. He helped Dr. Sullivan with a dental cleaning. He comforted a nervous chihuahua while she got her vaccinations. He restocked supplies and updated patient files and made notes about the recovery progress of the three rescue dogs.
And he thought about Grayson. About coffee on Saturday. About amber eyes and careful hands and the way his voice had sounded when he asked.
By the time six o’clock rolled around, Ryan’s feet were screaming and his back ached from bending over exam tables all day. He clocked out, grabbed his bag from his locker, and headed for the exit. The evening air hit him as he stepped outside, cooler than the morning had been, carrying the smell of cut grass from somewhere nearby.
He pulled out his phone as he walked to his car. No new messages, but that was okay. He opened the conversation with Grayson and read through it again, savoring each word like something precious.
Saturday couldn’t come fast enough.
Chapter Two
On Saturday, Ryan didn’t expect Grayson to show up at the clinic before their coffee date.
He was in the middle of trimming the mastiff's nails when Janet poked her head into the treatment room and said, “That guy from the other day is here. Wants to check on the dogs.”
Ryan’s stomach did something acrobatic. He set down the nail clippers and glanced at the clock. Ten thirty in the morning. Their coffee wasn't until two.
“Tell him I’ll be right out,” Ryan said, keeping his voice steady.
Janet disappeared. The mastiff looked at him with her wary eyes, and Ryan gave her a treat before guiding her back to the recovery kennel. He checked his reflection in the glass window of the supply cabinet. His hair was falling out of the scrunchie, as usual. He had a smudge of something on his cheek that might have been dog food. Great. Very attractive.
He wiped at the smudge with his sleeve and headed for the lobby.
Grayson stood near the front desk, hands in his pockets. He wore jeans today and a dark blue shirt that made his eyes look different. Warmer somehow. He turned when Ryan approached, and his face did something that might have been a smile.
“Hey,” Grayson said.
“Hey.” Ryan stopped a few feet away, suddenly aware of how he must look in his stained scrubs. “Janet said you wanted to check on the dogs?”
“Yeah, if that’s all right. I know we’re meeting later, but I was in the area and thought I’d see how they’re doing.”
In the area. Right. The clinic was fifteen minutes outside of town on a road that didn’t lead anywhere except to the clinic. But Ryan wasn't going to call him on it.
“Sure, come on back.” Ryan led him through the door to the treatment area. The familiar smell of antiseptic and kibble surrounded them. “They’re doing really well, actually. Better than I expected.”
He brought Grayson to the recovery kennels. The pit bull stood up when she saw them, tail wagging hard enough to shake her whole body. The cone around her head bumped against the kennel door.
“Look at her,” Grayson said, and something in his voice softened. “She looks like a completely different dog.”
