He chuckles, the corner of his mouth lifting like he knows exactly what I’m doing—and is kind of charmed by it anyway. His gaze lingers, like he's trying to figure me out, and I swear if he grins any wider, I’ll need an umbrella to handle the heat he’s giving off. Seriously, this man should come with a warning label: Danger—may cause spontaneous blushing and inconvenient daydreams. But then Iremember that he's not interested in me. If he was, I would have heard from him by now.
"I see. Duly noted," he says, his lips twitching with the ghost of a smile. "Should I be expecting a rainbow flag in the window of Waverly Blooms now, or..."
"Hey. I support love in all its forms." I say trying to hold onto my last shred of dignity as I rise and gather my coffee and pastries. "Alright, then. Text me the day and time for the playdate."
He watches me, eyes unreadable. "Daisy…"
But I don’t let him finish. I walk away before he can say anything else. Before I can do something stupid like turn around and ask him why. Or worse, ask him to go home with me.
The wind carries the scent of salt and sugar from the pastries nestled in the box in my hands, and I smile at the thought of Peaches. She's going to be thrilled when I bring these home—probably lose her mind over the maple bacon cruller. It's the little things, you know? That tail-wagging, eyes-wide joy she gets over doggie bags makes everything feel a little less like a romantic train wreck.
But me? I’m not sure what I feel anymore, except that I’m definitely not over him. Idon't know how I'm stillunderhim. Hell, we only had one morning and it was barely that.
Nope, definitely not over him. Not when a single look from him across a crowded room can still knock the wind out of me like a rogue wave on the boardwalk. Not when his voice still echoes in my head like a favorite song I can’t stop humming.
Not even a little over him.
Chapter 8
Ashe
Three dog park meetups.
Three.
And in all of them, Daisy has talked toeveryoneelse except me.
She’s friendly to the dog walkers, sweet to the elderly couple with the three Chihuahuas, and practically besties with the surfer dude who brings his Min-pin in a backpack.
But me? I get a polite smile. Maybe a nod. If I’m lucky, a quick "Hey." Like I’m the mailman or the neighbor she doesn't particularly like but tolerates because his recycling bin blew into her yard once.
Smokey doesn’t care. He and Peaches are all over each other, play-bowing and rolling through the grass like they’re reenactingLady and the Tramp: The ParkYears.Every time they nuzzle, I swear Smokey gives me this look like,Do something, you idiot.
Yeah, I know, buddy. Iknow.
I don’t blame Daisy. After the way I bolted on her that morning, then ghosted her afterwards, and then I show up like some golden retriever hoping for scraps, I wouldn’t talk to me either. And every time I try to get a moment alone with her, she’s busy—or pretending to be. Her voice stays chipper, her smile effortless, but there’s a wall there now. One I built. Brick by cowardly brick.
And the thing is? I can’t stop thinking about her. About that night in her loft. Her knee pressed against mine under the covers. Her breath on my neck. The way her laughter filled up the entire space like light. I’ve never felt anything like it. I’ve had flings, sure. Women who were fun and fiery and uncomplicated. But Daisy? She’s not just a spark—she’s a whole damn bonfire I’m afraid to get too close to.
But the truth is, I’m already burned.
I walk over to where she's having a vibrant conversation with a couple—mid-sixties, matching sun hats, and a golden retriever named Marmalade—about the best kind of leash for a large dog.
"We’ve tried the retractable ones," the womansays, her sunglasses perched on her nose like a movie star. "But Marmalade thinks it’s a game to see how far he can go before it yanks him back."
Daisy laughs, bright and easy. "Peaches did that for months. I finally switched to a padded harness and a six-foot lead. Gave her just enough freedom without the slingshot effect."
"That’s brilliant," the man says. "Where’d you get it?"
"Paws and Pets, the little pet shop on Main Street. They’ve got a display near the front window with all their favorite ones. Go by tomorrow and I'm sure they'll even give you a demo."
I hover on the edge, trying to look casual as I inch closer. "That’s great advice," I offer, adding a small smile. "Smokey still acts like he’s auditioning for the Iditarod."
Daisy glances my way, her smile dimming to polite neutrality. Before I can say more, she glances at her phone and blinks. "Oh shoot—look at the time. I promised Julie I’d stop by and help her with a delivery."
She turns to the couple. "It was lovely chatting. Give Marmalade a belly rub for me."
Then she whistles low and firm. "Peaches,let’s go!"
