What Lovers Do(4)

Busted!

I smile at the blue-aproned man giving me a disarming grin. The ends of his floppy brown hair curl around his ears and tease his eyebrows. The mischievous twinkle of his hazel eyes holds my attention.

“First time in here. So I’m just checking you out. Thanks.”

His smile swells and I feast on it until … it hits me.

“Things!” I choke on what comes out as a half laugh and a hard cough. “I’m just checking things out. Not you. I meant to say thank you. But the ‘you’ got a little too anxious and devoured the word ‘things.’ So …” I tuck my chin and scratch my forehead and mutter, “Just tell me to shut up.”

Every inch of that exceptional smile and a slow nod await when I risk a glance up at him. “Take as much as you need. And can I say … what a gorgeous creature?”

Heat gathers along my cheeks. “Oh gosh … thank you. I’m Sophie.”

On a chuckle, he shifts his gaze to Cersei. “Well, I meant your white floofer, but you’re equally deserving of the compliment, Sophie.”

For the record, I’m not this awkward. When I’m not taking in stray men or drooling over strangers, I’m entirely put together.

Smart.

Educated.

Confident.

Okay, somewhat confident.

And now that I think about it … I’m questioning my intelligence.

I blame Jimmy. He has royally annihilated my psyche, rattled my confidence, and demolished my sense of trust and good will.

If this dude meant my dog, then he should have looked at her when he said it. Now I feel presumptuous and stupid.

It seems to be the new theme in my life.

“Kidding. I’m such a kidder. Of course I knew you were talking about my dog. Her name is Cersei. And now I’m going to exit the store and never return.” I suck on the straw of my iced coffee and turn to slither toward the door like Hercules the garter snake.

“Nothing beats a classic standard poodle. Doodles have taken over the world. It’s nice to see a purebred.”

I turn. He’s good. Too good. “Yeah.” I nod. “Only … I’m not sure if she’s classic or a purebred. The vet thinks she might have something besides poodle in her. So she could be a doodle. But don’t worry, I don’t really see her taking over the world. She’s scared of shadows, the trash truck, and her tail until she realizes it’s attached to her body.”

He laughs, pulling a treat out of a drawstring bag hanging from the waist of his pants, then he holds it up to me.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Dehydrated lamb lung.”

I shake my head. “No thank you. Just coffee for me. But Cersei might like it.”

The tiny bit of his smile that faded while showing me the treat quickly returns. He lets Cersei sniff his fisted hand before opening it and offering her the treat. “She really is gorgeous.” He scratches behind her ears.

“Thank you.” I smile.

Cersei’s brown eyes track him, waiting to see if he’s going to offer her another treat.

“I’m Shep. If you have any questions, let me know.”

I slide my blue-framed glasses higher on my nose and blow my bangs away from my face as I nod several times and whisper, “Thanks,” with the composure of a fifteen-year-old girl at a BTS concert.

Cersei sniffs butts and licks everything she can as I pull her around the store, sipping my coffee and letting my gaze navigate to Shep and his charming demeanor.

“Focus, Sophie,” I murmur, reminding myself that I have a squatter at my house because I’ve habitually fallen for the sexy, nice guy façade. I’ve spread my legs in the name of charming and handed over my house key after hearing the words “I love you.”

If there’s rehab for total suckers, then I need to admit myself.

“Miss, your dog stole that treat from the bin back there,” an older woman says to me with a disapproving scowl on her overly made-up face as she hugs a purse-sized gray fluff ball close to her and kisses its head.

“Oh …” I frown at Cersei. “Drop it.” I need another hand as I grapple with the leash, my coffee, and a stolen tendon treat. I shift my coffee to my hand that has her leash so I can grab the tendon. She doesn’t release it. Instead, she hunches down, butt in the air, and growls at me. “Drop. It,” I say in my own growly tone.

Launching into a game of tug, she inches her backside toward a tall swivel display of collars and leashes.

“Cersei!” I pull harder to keep her from making a bigger scene. I lose grip on the tendon. Thankfully, the leash catches, but the sudden jerk sends my iced coffee flying.

“Oh my god,” I whisper. There’s coffee everywhere, including my evil mutt and the treat police holding her perfectly groomed dog.

She’s silent. Eyes wide, lips parted.

“I’m … so sorry.”

“Trade?” Shep bypasses me and holds out his hand with another treat in it.

Cersei releases the tendon and takes the treat.

“Good girl,” Shep says, scratching her chest as she triumphantly chews the treat.

Good girl? Is he serious? There’s coffee everywhere because she was being anything but good. I’m as speechless as the treat police.

“Let’s get everyone cleaned up.” Shep acts as if this happens every day.