I’m starting to quickly realize that the feelings I have for Jack aren’t just entirely sexual.
And that’s not good.
I don’t want to feel like this every time he is near me or touches me or says something nice to me.
What I want to feel is nothing at all.
Maybe it was a mistake, coming on this date.
I take a step back away from him, moving my eyes down to the ground.
I don’t want to see the disappointment in his eyes that I undoubtedly put there.
You want him to stop liking you. This is the way to do it. Being cold. Acting like a bitch.
Only Jack doesn’t deserve any of it.
And now, there’s this awful silence between us that not even the noises of passing cars and people walking down the busy street fill.
“So …” I start, needing to say something. “Will your bike be okay, parked here?”
“Here is as good as anywhere.” He hangs my helmet on one of the handlebars.
“Will that be safe to leave hanging there?” I ask, gesturing to the helmet.
He only just bought it, and I would hate if someone stole it.
Also, I’m a little attached to it.
Attached to a motorbike helmet. Stupid, I know. Because it’s not like I plan on riding on the back of his bike again after today.
It’s just that he was sweet to buy it for me. And I really need to stop thinking of Jack as sweet.
“Yeah, it’ll be fine.”
He seems unconcerned, and I guess it’s not like I’m back in Chicago, where you can’t leave a piece of gum out without someone stealing it.
“So, where are we going then?” I ask him.
“Here.” He tips his head in the direction of the building we’re standing outside of.
I give him a confused look. “Here? Why? Are you getting another cat or something?”
He chuckles, and I like the sound.
I like making him happy, yet I’m insistent on making him unhappy, so he’ll stop liking me.
For God’s sake.
I’m baffling the hell out of myself, so God knows what I’m doing to Jack.
I just need to … what?
Honestly, at this point, I have no frigging clue.
“No,” he answers me. “We’re here to walk a couple of rescue dogs.”
“Walk dogs? So, is … this our date?” I check.
Not that it’s a bad thing. But I just figured we would be going to the movies or something like that. Basically, like any other date I’ve ever gone on in the past.
But then Jack’s not like anyone I have ever dated in the past.
He steps closer to me again, but there’s caution to his approach. “Yeah. Well, it’s the first part of it.”
“First part?”
“Yep. First, we’ll take a walk with a couple of really cool dogs. And then, afterward, I’ll feed you.”
A dog-walking date.
It’s different. Unconventional.
And I absolutely love it.
I am so totally and undeniably screwed.
Jack holds his hand out to me.
I hesitate here for a second. Staring down at his hand. Strong and gentle, waiting for me.
I feel like this is a now-or-never moment.
Why now, I don’t know.
But I feel that if I take his hand and go forward with this date, then there is no turning back for me.
I pull in a breath on a long blink. Then, I tug my glove off and put my hand in Jack’s.
Smiling, he curls his fingers around mine. I lift my eyes to his.
He gives my hand a light squeeze. “Let’s go in.”
I let Jack lead me inside.
We walk into the reception area. The woman standing behind the desk—who I would guess is in her fifties with her graying light-brown hair tied back in a ponytail and surprisingly tanned skin for where we live—smiles widely when she sees Jack.
I know, lady. He has that effect on all of us.
“Hey, Jack,” she says.
“Afternoon, Shelly,” he greets her. “How are you today?”
“I’m good. So, you’ve brought us another victim,” she says chirpily.
I flinch internally at her word choice—victim.
It’s stupid that I can still be affected by a single word related to my past, but I am.
Thankfully, I’m a lot better at hiding my emotions than I once was.
“Another victim?” I question quietly at his side.
He glances down at me, a smile touching his lips. “You’re my first, I swear.”
His attention turns back to Shelly. “Yep. I got you another walker. This is Audrey,” he tells her. “Audrey, meet Shelly.”
“Hi,” I say.
“You walked rescue dogs before?” she asks me.
“Nope. Total newbie.”
“No worries at all,” she says kindly. “It’s just the same as walking any regular dogs—with just a few rules.”
“Don’t worry; I’ll bring her up to speed,” Jack tells Shelly.
She nods. “Well, I just need you to fill out this form, so I can add you to our system.” She slides a form across the counter along with a pen. “I’ll go ready the dogs for you while you fill this out.”
Picking up the pen, I stare down at the form. It’s nothing major, just basic information—name, address, phone number, questions, like if I’ve ever been charged with animal cruelty. The sort of things you would expect from an animal rescue center.
But that last question sticks out to me.
No, I’ve never been cruel to an animal. I never would be. I love animals.
But animals were killed because some psycho thought it was a way to declare his twisted-up sense of love for me.
I always fear that another animal could die again because of me.
Another person.
I guess finding that rat in my apartment the other day had bothered me even more than I realized.
Sighing, I start filling out the form.
I put the pen down when I’m finished completing it and look up and to my right to find Jack leaning against the wall, watching me.
“You’re staring again.”
He shrugs, unbothered.
I like that about him. How he’s unafraid to show what he’s feeling or thinking. Literally nothing seems to faze him.
“Did I get this wrong?” he asks softly.
His question surprises me.
“Get what wrong?” I turn my body toward his.
“The date. Bringing you
