“There’s another overnighter coming up,” he says, his big hand patting his daughter’s back. “I’ll send Rufus to the doggy ranch for the long road trips. But if you could walk him Sunday evening and Monday late morning, that would be great.”
“Okay.” I’d do anything he asked of me. Sad but true. “Sunday I should be available…” I try to gather a couple of brain cells together, but his scruffy jaw makes it difficult. My hand itches to reach out and touch those bristly hairs and test their texture under my fingers. “...around sex thirty or seven.”
His eyes crinkle at the corners, so, in my brain, I rewind what I’ve just said.
“Six thirty or seven,” I correct. Abort, abort! I need to get the hell out of here. This man has hungry children to feed, and I’m practically drooling on his doormat. I’m worse than Rufus. “Gotta go. Nice chat,” I stammer, backing away.
“Later, Hailey,” he calls as I turn to leap for the elevator button.
“G-bye!” I manage before I hear the beautiful sound of an apartment door finally closing. I’m sweaty and almost panting from the difficulty of keeping it together in front of the world’s hottest hockey player. As I step into the elevator, my phone buzzes with a text.
I’m afraid to look, but when I do, it’s only Jenny. WELL? she demands. Did you bring the man his gluten free waffles? Did you invite yourself in for breakfast and a quickie?
You’re hilarious, I reply. Could you please Google job openings in Tahiti?
The next two days pass slowly. I spend them trying not to relive my mortifying encounter with the hunky God of Hockey. So much for playing it cool. Clearly my divorce messed with my head and did a number on my confidence—the old Hailey had no trouble flirting with cute men, although any flirting I’d ever done was harmless since I was married for half my life.
Jenny’s advice that I should get out there again and start dating isn’t wrong. But I need to start small, with a guy who doesn’t turn me into a babbling idiot.
Putting our awkward encounter aside isn’t going to be easy because I have to return to the scene of the crime. When I go to walk Rufus on Sunday night, I feel a little sweaty just stepping off the elevator on the third floor.
Of course, there’s nobody home except one dog. And he still loves me. I scratch his ears and try not to think of anything I said the other day when I stood in the hallway losing my mind.
Ugh.
We have a nice time together before I take him home again. One more walk is probably all I have, too. Matt had said something about sending him to the doggy ranch when the team goes on road trips.
When Monday comes, I have to face up to the other awkwardness in my life. I’ve been avoiding Jackson at work, but my luck runs out eventually.
“Got a minute?” he calls as I’m darting for the door midmorning.
Crap.
“Sure,” I say, although it really isn’t true. I’m supposed to walk Rufus, but since I don’t want Jackson to know that, I follow him into his office and sit across from him.
“How’ve you been?” he asks, a smile on his narrow face. I can’t help comparing him to my hockey idol, and it really isn’t a fair fight. Jackson is a little geeky, but he’s a great guy. I feel guilty noticing how scrawny his neck looks poking from above the tidy collar of his dress shirt.
“I’m well,” I lie. “You?”
He smiles again, and I glimpse a little flash of why I’ll always love him. Kindness radiates from him like sunshine at high noon. “Can’t complain. How’s the mobile app upgrade coming along?”
“Not bad at all. Should have it ready for beta before Christmas. Giving our subcontractor an ultimatum finally did the trick.”
Jackson winces. “I’m glad they didn’t walk.”
“I knew they wouldn’t.” This is why I deal with the programmers. Jax is smart as hell, but he can’t play hardball. I fill him in on our progress, and he asks a few questions that I’ll need to follow up on.
“Thanks for handling all this,” he says, adjusting the position of his pencil so that it aligns perfectly with the blotter on his desktop. “We’ll need a few favorite customers to beta this version. Do you have anyone in mind?”
He’s right, and I haven’t gotten around to figuring that part out yet. Probably because I only have one specific client in mind at all times. “Good point. I’ll get right on that.” It’s a struggle not to check my watch. But I can’t tell Jackson where I’m off to, because it violates company policy.
Next, he shows me some photographs he’s taken of holiday promotional items. “I think I’ve got the giftwrap concept right,” he says, pointing at a lovely photo of a box wrapped in white paper with silver stripes. “We’ll let the clients choose the color of the ribbon that’s appropriate to the holiday they’re celebrating. I ordered blue, red, and silver.”
“That’s beautiful,” I tell him. “So I’ll add those ribbon colors to the giftwrap menu.” I grab my phone out of my pocket and tap a note to myself. Jackson is the artistic half of this endeavor. While I run the technical aspects of the business, he’s the one who designs our website, our branding, and all our communications with clients.
He’s also the one who put my picture on the web portal. We took that shot five years ago when we couldn’t even afford a photographer to help us. It was his idea to put that red pencil in my teeth, the one that matches the text in our logo.
“Anything else?” I ask, hoping he’ll say no.
My ex tips his head to the side, looking thoughtful. “My dad had me look at a piece of real estate in the Bridle Path neighborhood. With expansion in mind.”
Just like that, my stomach tightens.
“But I’m not sure we’re ready for that, right?” Jackson asks. “Not before our new app launches.”
“Right…” I say slowly, trying to read between the lines. “But, uh, I know you want to expand.”
He frowns just slightly. “Expansion is a pretty crucial way to grow the bottom line. But we need to be fully prepared to take that on. Right now we’re finally in a place where we can almost take a breath. Expansion will put us right back in scramble mode.”
“Hmm,” I say, trying to guess at the subtext of this conversation. “If you need scramble, I can scramble.” I will show no weakness! If he wants me to leave the company, he’s going to have to come out and say it.
“I’m going to mull it over,” he says instead.
“Okay,” I answer, springing out of my chair. “Is there anything else?”
Slowly, he shakes his head.
“Later!” I say with false cheer, then sprint for the exit. And even though I know Jackson’s not chasing me down the street, I keep it at a jog all the way to Matt’s apartment building. (Is it weird that in my head we’re on a first-name basis?) Rufus is as happy to see me this morning as he was last night. I take him to the nearby park where there’s a dog run and let him off the leash. He knows me well enough now that he’ll come when I call, so I’m not worried that I’ll end up chasing him around the place when it’s time to go.