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?”
“Wouldn’t hurt.” Her amusement begins to break through her cool façade.
“Great personality?”
“As long as it’s not overcompensating for said guy lacking in other departments.”
On another sideways glance, she gets a full dose of my confident (maybe a little cocky) smile. “I should get going. It was nice running into you again, Shep.”
Cersei jumps to attention, and Sophie leads her toward the sidewalk.
“Listen, I feel bad for taking your number and not calling. So … I’ll definitely call you this week.” A sense of pride warms my chest for cleverly twisting her presumption at the store to my advantage.
“I’m sure you’re a great guy, but I can’t go out with you.” She doesn’t even look back at me.
“Whoa … there you go again … assuming. I’m not wanting to go out with you. I just said I’d call you. To … you know. Converse.”
Her confident strides come to a halt. “To converse?” She glances over her shoulder.
“It means—”
“I know what converse means, Shep.” She rolls her curious eyes.
“Great. We’ll converse soon then.”
See, Millie? There are ways to meet people that don’t involve filtered pictures, exaggerated descriptions, and swiping right.
“That’s…” her lips twist for a few seconds before she slowly shakes her head and grins “…not a good idea. Bye, Shep.”
CHAPTER SIX
SOPHIE
“Hey, Jules.” I hug my best friend before taking a seat across from her on the patio of our favorite Mexican restaurant.
She slides a margarita toward me.
I smile, but I don’t take it even though it makes me salivate. Instead, I grab my water and take several long gulps before diving into the basket of warm tortilla chips and fresh salsa verde.
“So … what did I miss?” she asks. “You said you had so much to share with me, and you didn’t want to explain via text. I was gone for only a week. Did I miss something big? Did you and Jimmy get back together?”
I cover my mouth to keep from spewing corn chips all over her. “Um … no.” I cough a few times.