“His stuff is over there,” Clark said, pointing to a cabinet while clearly trying to keep Bertie at arm’s length and out of licking range. I walked over to it and pulled it open—it was stocked with all manner of dog paraphernalia. There were leashes and extra collars, bags of food and treats, and a monogrammed canvas bag that read BERTIE W. I looked at that for a moment, wondering what the W was for if Clark’s last name was Goetz-Hoffman, but then realized I had other things to focus on at the moment.
“Great,” I said as I set the leash I’d brought down on the counter. I didn’t know if dogs preferred their own leashes, but since Clark had shown me the Bertie cabinet, it would seem like he wanted me to use his accessories. I reached for the nearest one, then hesitated. “Is there one he likes best?” I asked. Clark looked at me, blank, and I added, “One that you’d like me to use?”
He shrugged. “I’m not really sure—like I said, I don’t know much about dogs.”
I nodded, trying not to let any annoyance show on my face. Bertie might have been primarily Clark’s parents’ dog, but that didn’t mean he was allowed to claim total dog ignorance. I knew that Bri would never have said something like that about Miss Cupcakes, and she was certainly no fan of that cat. “This will probably be fine,” I said, grabbing a long blue one with B.W. woven into it. Clark’s parents certainly seemed into their monogramming.
“So, uh, I didn’t think you’d be here,” Clark said as I knelt down to fasten the leash to Bertie’s collar. Clark was still holding on to it, and I looked up at him and realized just how close together we were. Clark must have realized this at the same moment, because he let the collar go and pushed himself up to standing. “I did the interview thing with—I think his name was Dave?—so I assumed he’d be the one to, you know, walk Bert.”
“We sometimes trade off,” I said, disappointment making my stomach drop. Why was I upset that he’d rather someone else walk his dog? I tried to tell myself it was because it would mean I’d miss out on getting my first regular client. But as I looked up at him, at his deep dimples and his unfairly long lashes, I knew that wasn’t really the reason. “But I can tell Dave you’d prefer he walk your dog. Happy to pass on the message.” I gave him a big smile, then looked down at Bertie, trying to mentally convey to the dog that this would be a great moment to start the game up again and make another run for it, anything to add some distraction. But Bertie just looked up at me with another one of his dog smiles, tail thumping on the kitchen floor.
“Oh, no,” Clark said quickly, his ears turning red again. “I’m—that’s not what I meant. I was surprised, but . . . I mean, it’s nice to see you again. I didn’t think that I . . . um, would,” he finished, a little haltingly, his voice fading out again at the end of his sentence.
I nodded, starting to smile. He really was cute. And I liked that he seemed a little bit awkward, like he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands right now. I was so used to Topher’s slick confidence that I’d forgotten what this could look like. “Right,” I said, when I realized I’d been staring at him. I pulled myself together as I stood, looping the leash once around my wrist. “So. Okay. I’ll take him around the neighborhood. Usually, when it’s just one dog, these are about twenty minutes, unless you want something longer, or a hike.”
Clark shrugged a bit helplessly. “I mean . . . twenty minutes sounds good,” he said. “Whatever you think.”
“Well,” I said, gripping on tightly to the leash as Bertie started straining toward the door, whining, like he couldn’t understand why we weren’t outside yet. “I should get him out.”
“Right,” Clark said, nodding a few too many times. “And I should get back to work. Or . . . get back to trying to work.”
I looked at him and realized how nice it was that he was close to my height. I was always looking up at Topher, feeling like I was getting thrown slightly off-balance. “Yeah,” I said, smoothing my hair back from my face with one hand and giving him a half smile. I hadn’t used my flirting moves in a few weeks, but they were coming back to me as I looked up at him, then down again. I took a breath, secretly hoping that there weren’t any rules against dating people whose dogs you were walking. “So I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said, raising an eyebrow at him. “And, you know, maybe—” My phone buzzed with a text, and then another one. “Sorry,” I said, taking it out of my pocket, figuring it was another endless text chain with my friends. But I looked at the screen quickly and saw that they were from my dad. I didn’t see what they were, just that he’d texted three times.
“Everything okay?” Clark asked.
“Fine,” I said, dropping my phone back in my pocket and giving him a quick smile. “Just . . . stuff.”