Sunny laughed, patted Brooks on the cheek. “Both. This one sits when he’s told, but he won’t stay put yet. Watch. Plato, now, you sit.”
Sunny set the dog down, kept a hand on his rump as she dug in her pocket for a tiny dog treat with her free hand. “Sit now. There you go, a genius!” She let the dog gobble the treat when his butt hit the grass.
And he was up and jumping, wriggling two seconds later, then scrabbled his paws on Abigail’s shins.
“We’re working on manners.”
“He’s just a baby yet.” Unable to resist, Abigail crouched down, smiling when Plato tried to crawl on her knees, laughing when he leaped and licked. “He has happy eyes.” She closed his jaws gently when he tried to nip and chew. “None of that now. Yes, you’re very handsome and happy.”
As if overcome by the compliment, he flopped down, rolled over to expose his belly.
“And he has good taste,” Sunny remarked, as Abigail gave Plato a belly rub. “Both my boys do. You have happy eyes yourself today, Abigail.”
“I like dogs.” But she looked at the house, shifted the focus. “Your house is so interesting and colorful. It must be rewarding to share your art with whoever passes by.”
“Keeps me off the streets and out of trouble. Mostly.”
“It’s wonderful. I’ve enjoyed seeing what you’ve done and continue to do since I moved here. I like that it doesn’t make sense.”
When Sunny laughed, Abigail felt the heat rise up the back of her neck. “I didn’t say that correctly. I meant—”
“I know exactly what you meant, and you’re exactly right.I like that, too. Y’all come on in. I made some peach sun tea this morning, and I’ve got some of those ginger cookies with the lemon icing you like, Brooks.”
“I could use a cookie.” Reaching down, he skimmed a hand over Abigail’s hair.
“Thank you very much, but I need to get to the market, and home to my own dog.” Abigail picked up the puppy as she rose, handing his wriggling body to Sunny. “It was nice to see you again, and to meet Plato.”
She moved as quickly as she could, trying to judge the line between busy and running away.
They’d charmed her, seduced her. The man, the mother, even the little dog. She’d let herself be swept along. Conversation, invitations, pie, sex.
People had seen her walking with Brooks. Holding hands with him. Talking to his mother. And people would talk about it. Her.
Just because she wasn’t part of a social network didn’t mean she was oblivious to how it worked.
She couldn’t be the unexceptional, hardly noticed woman who livedonthe fabric of Bickford if she became partofthe fabric through Brooks.
Why wasn’t he behaving per the basic male profile? They’d had sex. He’d conquered. Now he should move on to the next challenge.
When someone grabbed her arm, she reacted without thought. Pure instinct had her swinging around, leading with a backfist fired by waist and hip, the follow-through of jab already primed.
Brooks slapped a hand on her fist a half-inch before it connected, had to brace, push back.
“Whoa.” He managed, barely, to block the jab as well. “Excellent reflexes, Xena.”
“I’m sorry.” The simple trip to the market took on the quality of a nightmare. “You startled me.”
“At least. Fortunately, my reflexes are pretty good. Otherwise I’d be sporting another bruise on my face.”
“I’m very sorry.” She spoke stiffly now. “You came up from behind and grabbed me.”
“Got it.” As if to soothe, he stroked a hand down her hair. “Baby, you’re going to have to tell me who hurt you eventually.”
“Don’t talk to me that way. This isn’t going the way it’s supposed to. You had sex.”
“I think that’s we, and yeah. Why don’t you clue me in on how it’s supposed to go?”
“You’re supposed to go away.” Agitated, she pushed a hand through her hair, glanced around. “I can’t discuss this now, here. I don’t understand why it needs to be discussed. You’re not supposed to be interested now.”
