Page 322 of Small Town Firsts
“Bosco should be in agility training.”
“What’s agility training?”
“You know those dog shows you see on TV sometimes? Where the dogs do the obstacle course?”
“Oh, right!” She clapped when Bosco zipped around a tree. “Not sure he’d follow directions enough.” She slapped her hands over her eyes as Bosco took out a picnic basket lunch and swiped a sandwich.
“Sorry!” Judo Dad yelled as he upped his speed.
The dog stopped long enough to wolf down the sandwich and that was his mistake. Poppy’s dad dove on the leash. Then again, the dog didn’t seem inclined to run now that he was happily killing a perfectly good foot-long sub, wrapper included.
He stopped at the picnic blanket and tried to apologize. He even went for his wallet but they just waved him off and gave the dopey dog a good scratch. The dad took out a business card, and the couple grinned, taking it and thanking him.
Hot dad and the dog came running back to us. The man collapsed in a heap on the grass in front of us. He was barely winded, but he was sweaty. It didn’t take away the hot factor. In fact, his perspiration just curled his feathery hair even more.
The dog shoved his head under Hot Dad’s arm and laid his huge head in his lap. The man ruffled his fur and there was no censure in his touch. “Dumb dog.” He sighed. “I’m really sorry. Thanks for watching Poppy.”
I wouldn’t mind being called Poppy the way he said it either. “No problem.” I held out my hand. “Ryan.”
“Grant.”
Hot Judo Dad had a hot name too. Figured. I was hoping for a zing when I shook his hand, but alas no.
Apparently, all my zings were reserved for one particular sexy, suited pain in the ass.
Grant had a warm, manly handshake that didn’t crush, but he didn’t treat me like I was a weak and helpless sort either. “I’d be happy to treat you to an ice cream as thanks.” He moved back.
“And have Bosco steal it?”
Bosco lifted his head and his spotted tongue lolled out.
“Considering Bosco isn’t supposed to eat bread, I probably shouldn’t add ice cream to his list of offenses, I guess.”
I grinned. “I have to get back to work anyway.”
“We took off our shoes and smushed our toes into the grass, Dad.”
“You did, hey?” He glanced down at my toes. “Should I ask why?”
“A little grounding exercise. Rough day at work.”
“Ah. I never thought of it that way. But I do the same, I suppose. When I have a rough day, I go for a walk.”
“See?” I rolled to my knees and stood up, shaking the grass out of my skirt. Another reason I wore black most of the time. Stains didn’t show so much.
“Can I go get our shoes, Dad?”
“Stay where I can see you.”
She darted off, her little feet kicking up in that carefree way kids had of running.
“Sorry about that whole thing. I do keep track of my daughter when I’m with her, I promise.”
“I won’t report you to CPS, don’t worry.”
“And why would you know those initials, fair Ryan?”
I hadn’t meant to blurt that out. There had been many a time I actually did worry about someone calling Child Protective Services on my mom. Not that she didn’t try her best, but not everyone understood Rainbow Moon’s version of parenting. “I work for a lawyer.”
