“You okay?” he said, scrutinizing her. “You seem distracted.”
“Just tired,” she lied. She motioned to Molly. “I guess she’s taken a liking to you.”
“Oh yeah,” he said. “We’ve been getting along great. I think it was the jerky treats I gave her this morning. Jerky treats are the way to a dog’s heart. That’s what I tell all the FedEx and UPS guys when they ask what to do about dogs that dislike them.”
“I’ll remember that,” she said, quickly regaining composure.
When one of the puppies began to whine, Molly stood up and returned to the open cage, the presence of Travis and Gabby suddenly extraneous. Travis stood and polished the apple on his jeans. “So what do you think?” he asked.
“About what?”
“About Molly.”
“What about Molly?”
He frowned. When he spoke, the words came out slowly. “Do you want to take her home tonight or not?”
“Oh, that,” she said, flustered as a high school freshman meeting the varsity quarterback. She felt like kicking herself but instead cleared her throat. “I think I’ll take her home. If you’re sure it won’t hurt her.”
“She’ll be fine,” he assured her. “She’s young and healthy. As scary as it was, it could have been a whole lot worse. Molly was a lucky dog.”
Gabby crossed her arms. “Yes, she was.”
For the first time, she noticed that his T-shirt advertised a Key West hangout, something about Dog’s Saloon. He took a bite of his apple, then motioned toward her with it. “You know, I thought you’d be more excited about the fact she’s okay.”
“I am excited.”
“You don’t seem excited.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know,” he said. He took another bite of his apple. “Based on the way you showed up at my door, I guess I figured that you’d show a bit more emotion. Not only about Molly, but the fact that I happened to be there to help.”
“And I’ve already told you I appreciate it,” she said. “How many times do I have to thank you?”
“I don’t know. How many do you think?”
“I wasn’t the one who asked.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Actually, you were.”
Oh yeah, she thought. “Well, fine,” she said, throwing up her hands. “Thank you again. For all you did.” She enunciated the words carefully, as if he were hard of hearing.
He laughed. “Are you like this with your patients?”
“Like what?”
“So serious.”
“As a matter of fact, I’m not.”
“How about with your friends?”
“No . . .” She shook her head in confusion. “What’s this got to do with anything?”
He took another bite of his apple, letting the question hang. “I was just curious,” he finally said.
“About what?”
“About whether it was your personality, or whether you’re just serious around me. If it’s the latter, I’m flattered.”
She could feel the flame rising in her cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He smirked. “Okay.”
She opened her mouth, wanting to say something witty and unexpected, something to put him in his place, but before anything sprang to mind, he tossed the remains of the apple in the garbage and turned to rinse his hands before going on.
“Listen. I’m glad you’re here for another reason, too,” he said over his shoulder. “I’m having a little get-together tomorrow with friends, and I was hoping you’d be able to swing by.”
She blinked, unsure if she’d heard him right. “To your house?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Like a date?”
“No, like a get-together. With friends.” He turned off the faucet and began to dry his hands. “I’m hooking up the parasail for the first time this year. It should be a blast.”
“Are they mainly couples? The people going?”
“Except for my sister and me, all of them are married.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I have a boyfriend.”
“Great. Bring him along.”
“We’ve been together almost four years.”
“Like I said, he’s more than welcome to come.”
She wondered if she’d heard him right and stared at him, trying to tell if he was serious. “Really?”
“Of course. Why not?”
“Oh, well . . . he can’t come anyway. He’ll be out of town for a few days.”
“Then if you’ve got nothing else to do, come on over.”
“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“I’m in love with him.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“And . . . you can be in love with him at my place. Like I said, it’s going to be fun. Temperature is supposed to get close to eighty. Have you ever been parasailing?”
“No. But that’s not the point.”
“You don’t think he’d be happy if you came over.”
“Exactly.”
“So he’s the kind of guy who wants to keep you pretty much locked up when he’s away.”
“No, not at all.”
“Then he doesn’t like you to have fun?”
“No!”
“He doesn’t want you to meet new people?”
“Of course he does!”
“It’s settled, then,” he said. He headed toward the door before pausing. “People will start showing up around ten or eleven. All you need to bring is a bathing suit. We’ll have beer and wine and soda, but if you’re particular about what you drink, you might want to bring your own.”
“I just don’t think . . .”
He held up his hands. “I’ll tell you what. You’re welcome to come if you’d like. But no pressure, okay?” He shrugged. “I just figured it would give us a chance to get to know each other.”
She knew she should have said no. But instead, she swallowed through the sudden dryness in her throat. “Maybe I will,” she said.
Seven
Saturday morning started out well—as the sun came slanting through the blinds, Gabby found her fuzzy pink slippers and shuffled to the kitchen to pour herself a cup of coffee, looking forward to a leisurely morning. It was only afterward that things started to go wrong. Even before she’d taken her first sip, she remembered that she needed to check on Molly and was happy to find that she was nearly back to normal. The puppies seemed healthy, too, not that she had the slightest idea of what, if anything, she was supposed to watch for. Aside from latching themselves onto Molly like fuzzy barnacles, they tottered and toppled and whimpered and cried, all of which seemed like nature’s way of making them adorable enough so their mother wouldn’t eat them. Not that Gabby was falling for it. Granted, they weren’t as ugly as they might have been, but that didn’t make them nearly as beautiful as Molly, and she still worried that she might not find homes for them. And she had to find homes for them; that much was certain. The stench in the garage was enough to convince her of that.
It didn’t just smell—the odor assailed her like the Force in a Star Wars movie. As she began to gag, she vaguely remembered that Travis had suggested she build a pen of some sort to keep the puppies contained. Who on God’s green earth knew puppies could poop so much? There were piles everywhere. The smell seemed to have leached into the walls; even opening the garage door didn’t help. She spent the next half hour holding her breath and trying to keep from getting sick as she cleaned up the garage.
By the time she was finished, she had pretty much convinced herself that they had been part of some sort of evil plan designed to ruin her weekend. Really. It was the only reasonable explanation for the fact that the puppies seemed to favor the long, jagged crack in the garage floor, and their accuracy had been uncanny enough to force her to use a toothbrush to clean it. It was disgusting.