“He’s fine,” I answer as I return my attention back to my menu. Sarah knows all about my obsession with the said Mr. Hot and Bothered. Not only do we work for the same home rehab company, but we went to the same elementary, middle, and high schools, and college. We’re thick as thieves, two peas in a pod.
“Oh, I know he’s fine and hot as hell, but how’s he doing? Or better yet, how are y’all doing?” she pushes as she watches the waitress approach us. Thanking the big man upstairs for the interruption. We order our drinks and meals. She gives me a hard stare. “So, spill it,” she demands.
“There is no y’all. I haven’t told him how I feel,” I huff.
“Seriously?” she deadpans.
“Fine! I chicken out every time I go to tell him. Sarah, I don’t know . . . I feel like I'm not good enough for him. He’s a damn war hero, for fuck’s sake.” I lay my head in my hands as I shake my head in regret.
“That’s bullshit. Not the war hero bit, but you not being good enough for him. Girl, you’re smart, beautiful, and caring. What else can a man want?” she explains.
Not finding any argument in her statement, I shrug. The waitress returns with our drinks. Taking a sip of the cool liquid, my taste buds are hit with the sweet flavor of orange juice and burn of alcohol of the sparkling wine. Smacking my lips, I take a deeper pull from the glass.
“Hope, honey, you need to just tell him. I know it's scary to put yourself out there but the only way you’ll know if he likes you as much as you do him is to tell him,” she says as she reaches across the table and lays her hand on top of mine.
“Thank you, I needed that.” I smile and squeeze her hand.
“Now, you’re gonna get your badass over there and let him know. Well, after we eat our lunch,” she says with a grin. I cringe at the thought that conversation may ruin my plans for Sam this weekend.
As the food is placed before us, we dig in.
“So, I’ll tell him but not until Sunday,” I say as I take another bite. The creamy egg melts in my mouth. The rich earth flavor of the mushrooms and salty porky goodness of the bacon makes me moan.
“Why wait? Is this another excuse to dodge the inevitable?” she asks with a scowl on her face.
“No, this is the home visit with Careful. I don’t want to get into something as heavy as our nonexistent relationship when I’m trying to convince him that he needs a service dog,” I murmur.
“What? You haven’t told him that you signed him up for Careful’s adoption?” she demands.
“Well, I asked if he would watch him this weekend. I’m planning on telling him after they spend some quality time together. Let me do this my way, I know Sam. He’ll balk at anyone trying to help him,” I say.
“Fine, but you need to get to telling him about your hot and heavy feelings,” she concedes.
“I will, I promise,” I assure her. I have no plans to tell him anytime soon. But she doesn’t need to know that.
We finish our lunch as we chat. Glancing at my watch I see that I have forty-five minutes before I have to head to the house to get Careful ready for his weekend visit.
We say our goodbyes and I walk down the street to stop at the store. Careful may have weekend plans but I've nothing scheduled. I stock up on snack foods and a couple bottles of my favorite wine.
It’s a hop, skip, and jump, and I’m back home. Unloading the car, I put up my groceries and pack up the dog supplies.
Grabbing the leash. “Careful! You want to go for a ride?” I holler. The stomping of four paws can be heard before he slides around the corner of the hall. Skidding to a stop, he wags his tail. I attach the clip of the leash to his collar and watch him pick up his bag by the handle. Smart pooch.
We load up and we’re off. I roll down the passenger window and giggle as I watch Careful hang his head out of it.
I’m going to miss this big, goofy dog but if Sam adopts him then I can see him when I visit. Sarah’s comment races through my mind. If . . . If our relationship progresses to the next level, then I can see him as much as I want.
Chapter Three
Sam
After the gym, I drive home to get cleaned up for work. I can’t get Hope out of my head. I wonder where she has to go this weekend that she can’t take Careful with her. With the dog being a service animal in training, he should be allowed everywhere. Shaking my head, I clear it and get on task.
Throwing on my Paxton Security T-shirt, I slide into my worn blue jeans. I started up Paxton Security Systems with a couple of buddies from the Marines. We're all veterans, some more damaged than others, but we make it work.
I slide into my old Ford, and head down Main Street, passing the post office to my small office. The town is small and there isn't much use for too many security guards, but we do work in the surrounding area to make up for any lacking clients. Our clientele usually consists of department stores and occasionally a celebrity or two that wants to visit our small ass town.
Walking into the building, I see Jareth and Fred sitting behind their desks. I give them a nod and continue to my office. Firing up my computer, I see a couple emails that I
