Page 14 of Sidelined By Love

Not that I would ever admit it to a soul.

Sucking in more air, she pushes herself up. “I’m going to blame this on the altitude. My trainer would be mortified that I couldn’t chase you for more than a few houses without almost passing out.”

“You were chasing me?”

Something flashes in her eyes, and her spine suddenly turns to rebar. “No. Of course not.”

“I mean, that’s not what you just said. And you were clearly calling my name. How exactly doyoudefine chasing?”

“It doesn’t matter.” But as she waves away the thought, her gaze lands somewhere near my hip. “Exactly how many dogsdoyou own?”

With a quick shake of my head, I tell her the truth. “None.”

Her hands land back on her hips, her eyes narrowing. “Are you kidnapping dogs so you have an excuse to run by Nan’s house?” With a saucy cock of her head, she purses her plump lips to the side. “Now who’s chasing who?”

“I am not kidnapping dogs.” I can’t keep in a snort though.

“Well, really, until I see proof . . .”

“What? You’re going to tell your social media followers that I’m a pet thief?”

She tilts her head to the other side, and the breeze tugs at her unruly waves. “Let’s just say that my opinion of you will be very much in question.”

“As opposed to yesterday when it was . . .”

“Solidly mediocre.”

Forget another snort. This time I let out a full belly laugh because I’m pretty sure she’s kidding. At least I hope she is. Because suddenly her opinion of me matters. For absolutely zero reason except that her smile somehow lights up the pre-sunrise sidewalk.

Her hands on her hips suggest she’s still waiting for an explanation, so when I finally pull myself together, I nod toward Guster. “He’s a rescue dog from Pike’s Animal Shelter. It’s a couple miles down the road.”

“And the others?” Her face contorts with a raised eyebrow, and I can read every shred of skepticism on her face. This is why she’s an actress. This is why her movies have brought in hundreds of millions of dollars. I can’t look away. I don’t want to.

“Also rescues. I swing by when I’m in town and pick one to join me on my morning run.”

Something in her eyes softens, though her face remains the picture of cynicism. “Likely story.” A crack breaks through, and she fights a smile.

“Where is your—your—thug this morning?”

“Bronco?“ She puts a little extra mustard on the word. “A thug?” Light and joy beam from her, floating out on the high notes of her giggle. “He’s more like a drooling dental patient still high on laughing gas who’s searching for a snack.”

Okay. That’s probably a more apt description.

“Bronco is still inside. He decided to sleep in this morning.”

Which doesn’t explain why she’s prancing around the neighborhood like Dracula with bad fashion sense, slinging that fuzzy brown monstrosity around her like a cape from the ’70s.

“So, youwerechasing me.”

She pokes one finger out from under her wrap. “Correction. I was checking on the state of a potentially stolen dog. If you think about it, I’m kind of a superhero to the puppy population.”

“Nice try, Peebles. I’m not buying it.”

She rolls her eyes, lets out a little puff between tight lips. “I need your help.”

The simple statement incites a war in my chest. One side eager to rescue her, the other immediately on defense. Some kids may consider me a role model, but I’m no one’s hero. And there’s no way I can save Zoe from whatever trouble she’s in. I’ve seen the tabloids, heard the rumors. They’re hard to miss in every check-out lane at the grocery store.

But they can’t be true. At least not all of them.

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