Page 24 of You and Me, For Real
“Mm-hmm.”
I snap my fingers a couple of times. “Marissa?”
She turns to me, wide-eyed. “Hm? Yeah?”
“The water bowls? Can you take care of those?”
“Oh. Like right now?”
“Yes. Right now.”
“Got it.” She walks backward slowly toward the swinging doors and waves. “It was so nice to meet you, Griffin.” She giggles and disappears.
I shake my head.
“What?” Griffin’s asks, looking at me. Why does his gaze have to be quite so … direct? It’s unnerving.
I dart my eyes to the desk. “Nothing. It’s just that people forget that even if you’re on TV, you’re a real person, too.”
He rests his elbows on the counter, leaning closer. His already familiar cedar scent wafts my direction, and I resist leaning into it.
“That so?”
My ears heat as I rearrange the desk that’s already in perfect order. “Yeah. You’re just like everyone else.”
“Ouch. You wound me.”
His teasing draws my eyes to his. They crinkle in the corners, filled with humor.
I place both my palms on the desk and hold his gaze. “Yes. You’re nothing special.”
His smile falls slightly.
“What I mean is, you have feelings. You have a life—a personal one. Just because you’re on TV, people think it gives them the right to invade your space and personal business all the time. It’s not right.”
His expression changes. A note of surprise. He opens his mouth, but I interrupt him, not comfortable where this conversation is driving us.
“Are you done with the paperwork?” I need to get this man out of here and out of my life. I’ve already had enough drama this morning to last me weeks.
He looks down at the clipboard and signs the bottom. “Yup. Looks like it.”
I remove the clipboard from the counter and hold it close like a barrier. “Great. Looks like you’re an official pet owner. Congrats.”
“Great.” His eyes twinkle. “Then it looks like I’m in need of a dog trainer.”
I yank open the desk drawer and sort through our stash of business cards. “I’m happy to provide you with some suggestions.”
“But not you?”
I swallow, and my palms begin to sweat. “I’d love to help Roxy, it’s just?—”
“It’s just what?”
I exhale and halt my search, meeting his gaze. “A matter of time. Frankly, I don’t have much of it.”
His dimple appears. “I can work around your schedule.”
“Oh, that isn’t necessary.”
