Visions (Cainsville 2)

"It is. It'd be fine if I was two years older than you, right?" He knew the answer to that, considering I'd been engaged to a thirty-year-old. "In fact, one could argue that this would be all the more reason to go out with me, while you decide whether you want to recommit to James. What better way to explore your options than to date a guy who has nothing in common with your former fiance."

"James has an MBA."

"And I don't yet. See? Totally different. So I would suggest we go out if I hadn't already promised not to bring it up. Now I'll drop the subject by asking you the topic of your master's thesis. Also? It's one."

"I wasn't checking--"

"Yes, you were. Subtly. I promised not to push for a date, and when I veered off track, you checked your watch, seeing if it was late enough to bolt, should I continue. I promise no more pushing, prodding, or even hinting. We have thirty minutes. I've already set the alarm on my phone."

--

At 1:30, Ricky and I were walking into the parking lot behind the coffee shop. His motorcycle was right up front, squeezed into a spot too small for a car. I was parked at the far side.

Beside the lot was a playground. Empty swings twisted forlornly in the brisk wind. Brightly colored ride-on animals rocked, riderless. There was an air of desolation here, of abandonment. Kids in this neighborhood had better things to do than ride smiling purple hippos. I thought of the park in Cainsville, clearly beloved for generations, and I felt a pang of sympathy for this one, and for the kids here. Silly, I know, but I thought, I'm glad I live in a place where kids still want to ride purple hippos.

We were saying our goodbyes when Ricky trailed off midsentence, staring at something over my shoulder. I turned and saw . . .

The hound stood in the park, watching us. Ricky was staring, but not in the way one might look at a big dog on the loose, with concern or trepidation. He looked as I imagine I must have when I saw it the second time--in confusion and disbelief, certain my eyes were playing tricks on me.

"Wow, that's a big dog," I managed finally.

"Dog . . ." His voice was oddly hollow, distant, and uncertain. "Yeah. That's . . . a dog?" His voice rose as if in question. A hard blink, followed by a short laugh. "Obviously." He rubbed his thumbs over his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Clearly I've had too much caffeine."

"It is a very big dog." Standing there. Staring. At Ricky.

"An unaccompanied and unrestrained big dog. I should walk you to your car."

"It's right over there. I'll be--"

"No. I'll walk you to your car."

His voice had taken on a tone I'd heard in the clubhouse with one of the girls and, later, with Gabriel. A reminder that while he was charming and easygoing, he was still a gang leader's son. He followed it with a softer "This way?" and I nodded.

As we crossed the lot, he kept his gaze on the beast, and I could say that was just common sense--don't turn your back on a threat--but Ricky still looked confused, as if trying to figure out what the hell he was seeing. I wanted to ask: Exactly how big is it? Does it have reddish-brown eyes? What really made my stomach twist, though, was the way the beast stared at him.

"So, Wednesday?"

Ricky's voice startled me, and I looked around to realize we were at my car already. I glanced back over my shoulder.

"It's gone." His tone was light, jaunty even. "So, Wednesday, do you want to come here again or someplace else?"

"Wednesday? I--"

"Or Thursday. Maybe a walk this time. It's supposed to be perfect weather."

"You really are persistent."

"Damned straight. But I haven't heard a no. Wednesday, then? Same time? Coffee or a walk?"

I paused beside the Jetta. "I can't. I'm sending the wrong message--"

"The message that you enjoy my company? That you had a hurricane blast through your life a month ago and you're still sorting through the pieces and you could use the occasional coffee break with a normal--well, relatively normal--guy? The rules don't change unless you change them, Olivia. The only message you're sending says I don't bore you to tears."

"Okay. Wednesday. I'll figure out where and text you. Is that okay?"

"Texting me anytime, for any reason, is absolutely okay." He opened my car door and I climbed in.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN