And there it is again.
That weird tension that’s been hanging between us all morning.
Like we’re both trying very hard to act normal.
Like normal is still an option.
“Would you come with me today? To walk the dogs.”
“Yeah. Of course.”
Her shoulders relax.
Just a little.
Most people probably wouldn’t notice.
I do.
I always notice.
Watching Kallie work is dangerous.
Not because she’s hot, though she absolutely is.
It’s because she smiles at every dog like it’s the most important creature on earth.
Because she remembers all of their ridiculous names.
Because she somehow convinces eighty-pound monsters to behave with nothing but stubbornness and sheer force of personality.
Because every time I look at her, I find one more reason I’m completely screwed.
“You’re not taking Hank.”
I blink, snapping out of my thoughts.
“What?”
Kallie doesn’t even look up from untangling leashes.
“You’re taking Sir Wigglebutt.”
“The dachshund?”
“Yes.”
“Come on, Kal. I’m not walking the fur-missile.” I point at Hank. “Let me take the big guy off your hands.”
“Not a chance, hotshot.”
“Kallie—”
“Nope.”
“Seriously? What’s the big deal?”
She turns to me and gives me a look. The kind of look that says she’s already had this argument in her head and decided she’s right.
