I started walking again, and Lawton followed suit. Our casual pace was a stark contrast to the tumult of my emotions. Behind us, the squirrel was still chattering, but Chucky had moved on, his attention caught by a slow-moving mail delivery truck a couple blocks ahead of us.
Probably, I should've been annoyed. The squirrel, Chucky, even my own reservations, they were wreaking havoc on the realization of what I'd almost done. I'd almost kissed him. And I was pretty sure he'd almost kissed me back.
I was glad that didn't happen.
Sort of.
Yeah, it would've been heavenly. But I wasn't about to have an impromptu make-out session with some guy I barely knew, on the sidewalk, in a neighborhood where I was house-sitting. It was insanity, at least by my standards. If any of the neighbors put two and two together, I'd probably get fired.
"So," I said, trying to pretend it hadn't happened, "why don't you get a dog of your own?"
When he didn't answer, I gave him a sideways glance. His eyes were straight ahead, and he looked a million miles away. I returned my gaze to the sidewalk and picked up the pace.
We'd gone a full block before he finally spoke. "Because then," he said, "I couldn’t borrow yours."
"Oh c'mon," I said. "Be serious. Why don't you?"
"Maybe it's not fair to leave 'em alone," he said.
"You could always get a dog-walker. Or a house sitter," I said, feeling incredibly awkward even as I said it. Somehow, it felt like a lie by omission. I should've stated the obvious. I was such a person.
Lawton snorted. "Yeah, like I'm gonna trust some stranger with my dog. You hear stories." He stopped to let Chucky water the bushes. "And if anyone harmedmydog, well –" He clamped his lips together and looked away. "I wouldn’t like it."
Unspoken, but completely apparent, was what he didn't say. It wasn't only that he wouldn't like it. He wouldn't put up with it. I glanced at the powerful hand that held Chucky's leash. The fist was tight, with white knuckles that had flexed convulsively as he spoke.
"You don't even have a dog," I said.
"Yeah," he admitted. "See what I mean?"
"No," I said, laughing. "You're all worked up about some stranger mistreating your dog, and you don't even have one."
"I'm not worked up," he said.
I glanced at his hands. "Really?"
He looked down, following my gaze. Slowly, he loosened the muscles in his hands and gave me a crooked grin that sent my world spinning.
"So, uh, did you have a dog growing up?" I asked.
His smile faded. "No."
I waited for him to elaborate. He didn't. From what I'd read, his home-life hadn't been spectacular, but the details had been vague, with veiled references to social services and time on his own. No wonder he didn't want to talk about it.
When he changed the subject to current headlines, I didn't fight it. It was pretty obvious he was finished with talking about himself, and I was in no position to judge. In truth, I wasn't eager to talk about myself either.
Even if I were looking to tell my life-story, where would I start? With the fact that I was merely the house sitter? That particular topic was definitely off-limits. The Parkers had a strict confidentiality clause. Most of my clients did, for obvious reasons. There was no quicker way to get robbed than to advertise that a home-owner was out of town.
Before I knew it, we had circled back to the Parkers'. Turning toward me, Lawton asked, "Got any plans for tonight?"
My heart skipped a couple of beats. Was he actually going to ask me out? No, I reminded myself. Guys like Lawton Rastor didn't ask girls out. He'd let the girl come to him, ready, willing and able. And maybe, if the two blondes were any indicator, one girl by herself might not be enough.
The fantasies aside, I didn’t want to become a random notch on some famous guy's bedpost. He'd forget me the instant I left his bed. Or his countertop. Or his swimming pool. I swallowed, pushing aside the images that flooded my brain and other places.
A random encounter would mean nothing to him, but it would mean a lot of trouble for me, and not just because I was getting way too interested in him. I'd be living here most of the winter. I didn't need any trouble, and I didn't need any drama.
Besides, something strange was going on in my own head and heart. I no longer saw him as Lawton Rastor, the guy who made men bleed and girls swoon. I saw him as this incredible guy next door who made my mouth water, and my knees go week.
No way reality could live up to the fantasy. Besides, I did have plans. Maybe they weren't exciting plans, but they were plans I needed to keep, and they centered around a certain diner that I'd be vacating in a few weeks.
