That’s correct. The same thing they say about big feet—and I don’t mean big gloves or big shoes.
So yeah, I don't need to go there. I remember it well.Andfondly. But I’ll deny it.
Aw, crap. When did my clit start throbbing?
I squeeze my eyes shut in an attempt to avoid looking directly at his groin area.
“I got a dog,” Riley announces proudly.
Whaaa…?
I hadn’t been expecting that, and it succeeds in snapping me out of my hormone-induced and memory-fueled lust-haze.
“You … got a dog,” I repeat slowly, squeezing my thighs together against the uncomfortable wetness pooling there.
“Mm-hm. Cute little bugger, too.”
I’m instantly taken back to those days on the ridge when we used to fantasize about one day adopting a dog together. I look up into Riley’s face once more, to that smile, and I can’t help but offer him one of my own. His obvious glee over his new little friend is … well, it’s infectious.
“That’s amazing,” I say, and his eyes widen in surprise at my change of attitude. Little does he know I’ve just run the gamut from reluctantly polite to annoyed, to panicked, which then took an abrupt turn into weakening willpower and full-blown fire-in-my-loins turned on. Now I’m feeling nostalgic and even a little excited for him. It’s exhausting, and I’m pretty sure it all spanned little more than ten seconds, for he hadn’t even seemed to notice my blatant perusal.
For a moment, we stare at each other, and I know he, too, is remembering those once-shared dreams. His eyes are shiny when he asks, “Do you have one?”
“One?”
“A dog. A … pet.”
I shake my head, tearing my gaze from the emotion I see reflected in those silver-grey beauties.
“I’m surprised. You love dogs. Or at least, you used to …” he trails off, clearing his throat, and my eyes drop to his Adam’s apple.
Ugh, it’s attractive too. Why is that a thing?
Don’t get sidetracked again, Steph.
“My husband was allergic. And once he was gone, I had my hands full enough without adding more responsibility and another mouth to feed,” I say, and instantly regret my honesty. He doesn’t need to know anything about my ex or my struggles, though I’m sure he’s heard enough around town to know things haven’t always been so great for me.
Riley’s jaw clenches, I assume at the mention of my ex, but … what right does he have? The thought has anger flaring back to life inside me. He doesn’t give me a chance to latch onto it, though, before he’s peppering me with more questions. And I indulge him, not allowing myself to think too much about why. About all the leeway I’ve given him this afternoon. Because I’m actually kind of enjoying this interaction with a person who once meant so much to me. I can admit I’ve missed him—the old him, the one before he went away to college—and I guess maybe this little bit of nostalgia could be a good thing.
I’ll never forgive him for what he did. How he hurt me back then, but … maybe with time we can learn to co-exist in this town. Since it seems he might be here to stay, it would probably be a good idea if we could learn to keep things civil between us, and this, today, could be the first step.
“Do you still volunteer at the shelter?” he asks, and I shake my head sadly.
“Not regularly. No time. I still do the run every October, though. Er, well, I mostly walk.”
“Huh, maybe I should check that out.”
“You should,” I say, and instantly regret that too. Civility is one thing, but I’d still rather keep my distance whenever possible.
Unfortunately, it seems he’s cottoned onto the idea. “Yeah. I think I will. Connor could do it with me …” but he trails off with a frown. “Scratch that, he wouldn’t like it.”
I can’t help but chuckle. “What dog wouldn’t like a run in the park by the water?”
Ugh. Again, why am I encouraging this?!
“Mine,” he says fondly. “He doesn’t really like people. Or other dogs.”
My eyebrows pop up in surprise. “Are you serious?”
