What Lovers Do(7)

It’s my house, yet I’m the one who’s always leaving to avoid spending any more time than necessary with the biggest mistake of my life—okay, one of three.





CHAPTER FIVE





SHEP





It’s pack day. After I leave the shop, my six best friends and I head to an old park that’s rarely occupied by more than birds and occasionally a homeless person or two. Today, however, we have company. A white poodle and a dark-haired woman in really short shorts, a tank, and chunky, clear-framed glasses. I can barely hide my grin, anticipating the level of awkwardness she’ll display when I catch her attention.

On a weathered wood bench, Sophie You-Can’t-Have-My-Phone-Number Ryan has her nose buried in her phone screen while Cersei runs free until she notices us and freezes with a little growl.

“Cersei, come,” Sophie calls her just before glancing over her shoulder at me and my pack.

Her eyes bulge behind her glasses. “Cersei, come!” Jolting to her feet, she shoves her phone in her back pocket. “You,” she says a little out of breath while attaching a leash to Cersei.

“Me.” I grin. “I know … I know. I took your number, but I never called. Such a dick move on my part.”

She presses her lips together, but it doesn’t hide her smile. “That’s a … lot of dogs.”

“They’re not all mine.” I release their leashes. Sophie tightens her grip on Cersei and curls her shoulders inward as my pack runs past her toward a mucky pond. “The two greyhounds are mine: Julia Roberts and George Clooney.”

She snorts. “Seriously?” Her delicate fingers curl her sun-bleached brown hair behind her ears. It’s a blunt cut that juts below her chin with bangs that like to tease her eyelashes behind her glasses. No long wavy locks to toss over her shoulder. It’s basic.

I think I’m a new fan of basic.

“Seriously.” I shrug.

“And you stole the others?” Cersei lies down when she realizes her mom isn’t leaving quite yet.

“I walk dogs from the no-kill shelter. It’s where we got George and Julia.”

She glances back at the dogs and releases a nervous laugh. “You uh … let shelter dogs just run freely?”

“Sure. Why not? They need a chance to just be dogs. Play. Run. Dig. Sniff. Hump. I mean … don’t we all deserve to have those basic needs met?”

Again, she tries to suppress her grin. “Well, uh … we were just leaving. Enjoy your evening.” She tugs on the leash.

“Is Cersei a Lannister?”

She crinkles her nose, and it pushes her glasses up a fraction as she nods.

“Game of Thrones. Nice. But why Cersei? I’m partial to Arya.”

“She wasn’t my dog originally. I sort of … inherited her.” A sullen expression dissolves her smile.

“Well, better you than her ending up in a shelter. You’re a generous woman, Sophie Ryan.”

Her eyebrows form two sharp peaks as she bites her lips together and offers several easy nods.

I’d love to know what she’s not saying.

God she’s adorable. It’s the glasses. I can’t say that glasses have ever done it for me before, but they’re doing it right now. And I’ll never forget the image of her face filled with embarrassment while she gnawed her lower lip after the coffee incident. Is it messed up that I found her irresistible during the most disarming moment? There’s a certain element of sex appeal to her vulnerability.

“About the other day …” she says.

“Shit happens. No big deal. Don’t give it another thought.”

She nods slowly. “Easier said than done. But … thanks. Anyway, I’d better …” She jabs a thumb over her shoulder.

“So what is your story, Sophie Ryan?”

“Um …” She’s fidgety, like she’s itching to leave. “I’m an optometrist.”

“Ah … that explains the glasses. Blue frames the other day. Clear frames today. I bet you don’t wear the same pair twice in one week.”

With a guilty grin, she gives a little shrug.

“So you’re a doctor?”

“Yes. A doctor of optometry.” She won’t even look at me.

“At the store you said you’re not dating. Are you married? In a relationship? Tired of me being so nosey?”

She chuckles, eyeing my pack of dogs. “Not married. Not in a relationship. Life’s a little complicated now. That’s why I’m not dating.”

“Maybe you just haven’t found the right guy.”

Again she laughs, shaking her head. “There could be a lot of truth to that statement, but …”

“What’s your idea of the right guy?”

She gives me a quick side glance. “I’m still figuring that out.”

“Tall?” I ask, pushing my shoulders back, chin up.

Sophie presses her lips together to hide her grin as she shrugs. “Tall is good.”

“Thick, dark hair?”

I don’t think she has enough muscles in her face to hold her reaction much longer. “It’s definitely preferred to no hair.”

“Good with dogs?”