Page 50 of Right Where I Want You

“Well, you just accused me of goofing off on thejob.”

“Okay, so youdoknow what Ithink.”

He gave me a look as he squatted to remove Bruno’s leash. “Go on, boy. Have atit.”

“Wait,” I said, seizing Sebastian’s bicep. Either he responded by flexing, or he was made of stone. “You can’t let him offleash.”

“Whynot?”

“For one, it’s illegal outside of the dogrun.”

“Do you see the K-9 unitaround?”

“Like the bomb sniffers?” I asked. “You know they aren’t theactualdogpolice.”

“It was a joke. Never mind. Will he runaway?”

“I couldn’t lose him if Itried.”

“Is he dangerous?” he asked. “Would he eat a smallchild?”

“No . . .”

“So, what’s theproblem?”

I took a deep breath and looked around. The park had a lot of green grass Bruno would love, but it wasn’t fenced. And he really needed to be monitored during exercise. “Too much excitement is bad for his heart. I never let him off leashoutside.”

“Well, shit,” Sebastian said. “How does heplay?”

“We take long walks every day and do mental exerciseslike—”

“Georgina, do you see the size of this guy? He needs to get his zoomiesout.”

“Zoomies—?”

Sebastian unclipped the leash, and Bruno bolted across the lawn. “When pets get a burst of energy and act all crazy. There’s a whole Reddit thread dedicated tothem.”

I let Bruno get about fifty yards before I called him. Maybe he had the zoomies, but Mom had the panics. Itwasfun to see him go wild, but I preferred he did it closer. He skidded to a halt and sprinted back tous.

Sebastian slid out his wallet. “Youhungry?”

“Not yet. I have lunch at theoffice.”

“I’ll be rightback.”

As he walked away, I watched Bruno zigzag between benches, wrought iron park tables, and other dogs. If only I’d brought his pills, I might’ve been desperate enough to steal someone’s sandwich and turn it into a cocktail of heart meds. Once I’d gotten enough dirty looks, I squatted and whistled for him. He came bounding back and plopped down in front ofme.

“Hey, you’re not really going to a Yankees game with that guy Francis, are you?” Sebastian asked from somewhere behind me. “If you want to drink beer, eat hotdogs, and root for a bunch of losers, we can do that at the office anyday.”

I looked up once I’d latched Bruno’s leash back on. Sebastian waved a bunless hotdog in a paper tray at me. “It’s François,” I said. “And why wouldn’t I go out withhim?”

“He’s clearly some overworked finance bro who got lucky. Right place, righttime.”

“Who said anything about finance? Or getting lucky for thatmatter?”

“He’s a bro, trust me. I’ve got radar for these things. The point is, you made your case, but there’s no reason you have to go through with thedate.”

“There is a reason,” I said, standing. “You guys have all these fancy ways of trying to get laid when the answer is verysimple.”