Page 55 of Beckett

“Different from what someone else expected,” I corrected. “Sometimes the best thing a dog can be is exactly what they are.”

She bent to clip Jet’s leash, and I heard the unmistakable sound of fabric tearing. She froze, then straightened slowly, her hand going to the back of her jeans where a rip now exposed a strip of skin just above her knee.

“Damn it,” she muttered.

“We can head to town, get you some new ones.”

She shrugged. “No need for new ones. It’s nothing that can’t be patched. Is there some sort of general store in town?”

I wanted to argue about just getting new jeans, but I needed to pick my battles. If she didn’t want to spend money on clothes, that was her choice.

“How could you miss the Markman’s General Store sign? That obnoxious thing could probably be seen from space. Remember?”

She chuckled. “I think I was so nervous when we went to the grocery store that I wasn’t paying attention.”

I stared as the truth hit me. “The only time you’ve been into Garnet Bend was when we went grocery shopping?”

Her shoulders tensed slightly. “I’ve been busy.”

Surely I was misunderstanding. “Two weeks since Lark left and you haven’t talked to anyone except me and the animals?”

She shrugged. “Coop came by that one time. Plus, I like the quiet. I like it here.”

But I remembered Todd talking about what a social butterfly Audra was. Always trying different classes or planning dinner parties for her neighborhood. She did volunteer work.

She was staying here at Pawsitive because it was safe. And while there was nothing wrong with that, I was sure some part of her—the social part of her—wasn’t being fulfilled by being around animals and a surly former soldier all the time.

“We’re cutting work early today,” I decided. “I’m taking you to dinner.”

Her eyes widened. “Beckett, that’s not necessary.”

“It’s Draper’s Tavern, not the Ritz. Just a meal somewhere that isn’t here. Give you a chance to see more of the town than the grocery aisles.”

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

“It’s just dinner,” I said gently. “We’ll sit in the back corner if you want.”

She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, a gesture that made me want to kiss her until she forgot whatever had her so scared. “Just dinner?”

“Just dinner. Unless they have pie, then it’s dinner and dessert. So what do you say?”

Jet chose that moment to shove his head under her hand, demanding attention. She absently scratched his ears while considering, and I could see the war playing out behind her eyes. Safety versus living. Fear versus trust.

“Okay,” she said finally, so quiet I almost missed it. “Dinner.”

I smiled. “Let’s get cleaned up and head out.”

She looked down at her work clothes—now-ripped jeans dusty from the barn, T-shirt that had seen better days. “I don’t have anything nice to wear.”

“It’s Draper’s. Jeans and a shirt that doesn’t smell like horse is formal enough. Hell, they won’t care even if you do smell like horse. I’ll come by your cabin and pick you up.”

“Okay.” She got Jet into her car and drove to her cabin, while I hit the shower in the guest house. I pulled on my least worn jeans and a flannel that my mom had bought me last Christmas, claiming I needed at least one shirt that didn’t look like I’d found it at a military surplus store.

I drove the few minutes over to the cabin. Audra emerged, and my brain briefly short-circuited. She’d changed into dark jeans that actually fit her now that she’d gained some weight back, and a soft blue sweater that brought out the gold flecks in her eyes. Her hair was down, brushed until it shone, falling in waves past her shoulders.

“Too much?” she asked, tugging at the sweater’s hem. “It’s my only non-work clothes.”

“Perfect.” The word came out rougher than intended.