I do as I said, training him, tossing a tennis ball and just generally wearing the beast out. A tiny bit. He must still be very young to be this energetic. I think? What do I know about puppies.
“Nothing,” I answer myself as I get the dog his water bowl. “Let’s go home, Stu.”
I get out my phone.
Aiden: Apparently I need to come
fix your garage again.
Harper: You fixed my garage?
Aiden: The latch. Stuart is in my yard.
Harper: Oh
Aiden: You’re welcome
Harper: Right. Thank you.
Aiden: So I’m heading over?
Harper: I’m not home
Not home? It’s almost nine at night.
Aiden: Where are you?
Harper: Out
Out where? OUT WHERE?!
I don’t let myself respond. I shouldn’t care where this woman is. Honestly, what has gotten into me? I almost had a panic attack in that van. That hasn’t happened in ages. Then I almost kissed her. She knows it. I know it. Steven, and thus probably the whole town, knows it.
Absurd. I don’t kiss women. I don’t even date women, not really. I go to galas and benefits and if I can find someone to keep me company for the event…and the evening afterward…great.
But there’s not much kissing.
Or talking about my childhood.
Or asking them prodding questions.
Bark!
Or watching other people’s bloody dogs!
I grab his collar and march him back across the street. I quickly take care of the latch again, sort Stu’s water and food bowl in Harper’s garage, then lock up. I head back to my garage and put my headphones in.
So she’s out.
None of my concern.
Except is she out on that damn bicycle? At night?
None of your concern, wanker!
I pull out my phone to load my workout playlist. But my thumb taps on Instagram instead. Unruly thing. It also navigates to Steven’s profile. If there’s anything going on at any time, anywhere, in the whole world, really, you can count on the local realtors to know about it.
Sure enough, one tap on his very animated face and I find he’s posting stories from…Nog’s. I roll my eyes at the name of James’s bar. Do they serve Eggnog year round, then? Probably. Tonight is some sort of trivia night.
