Page 3

Three

“WAIT.” ABBY PAUSED, almost imperceptibly, before pushing through the door of Common Grounds, her favorite coffee shop.

After years of steady training, basic commands had transmuted into deeply ingrained habits. Pausing at doors, sitting at counters, staying in heel position. Often, Abby didn’t need to use words – Gen took her cues from her body language – but it didn’t hurt to keep the dog’s obedience fresh.

She ordered her morning coffee and slid into a deep, leather seat, flipping over the paper on the small table beside her and checking the date.

“Can you believe they’re still blathering on about that stupid playoff game?” Jackie, the owner of Common Grounds, gestured at the paper. “It’s been months !”

Abby snorted. “True, but it’s better than baseball stats. I swear, their season never ends.”

Jackie rolled her eyes. “No argument here. Did you see Zack Hooper, is now accusing the quarterback of throwing the game? What a hack.”

“Edwards? You’re kidding. Why would he do that?”

Jackie shrugged a shoulder. “Something about how San Diego gave him his first shot, so he owed them.”

“That’s stupid,” Abby replied. “Isn’t he originally from somewhere down near Hilton Head? He played for USC, and he took a lower offer to play here so he could come home.”

“If you can follow his reasoning, you’re a more devoted football fan than I.” Jackie shrugged. “Well, you are anyway, but you know what I mean.”

Abby opened to the article and skimmed it. “Hack is right. This is like clickbait in print. Can they even publish this stuff?”

“Maybe in the Opinion section.” Jackie cleared a couple of plates from a table, then nodded at Gen, who’d managed to wedge herself underneath the chair. “She doing okay?”

“She’s great. We were at the hospital three times this week and she worked her magic, like always.”

“Good, good. You come in with her anytime, yeah? You need a refill before you go?”

“No, thanks.”

“Okay, have a good run. C’mon by afterwards and the next batch of scones should be out. Gen can taste test one.”

At her name, the dog creeped from her hiding place, wagging her tail as her gaze darted between Jackie and Abby.

Abby shook her head as she backed through the door, clicking her tongue at Gen. “I think you might be pushing the boundaries of dog-friendly with that offer.”

Jackie laughed. “As long as she stays out of the kitchen, it’s all legal.”

With a smile, Abby let the door swing closed behind her.

As they reached the park entrance, she broke into an easy jog, Gen loping along beside her.

Two laps in, they passed a man waving a jacket. Though he looked familiar, Abby couldn’t place him, but a few strides later, he called her name.

“Abby, wait up!”

Slowing, she stepped off the trail while she watched his approach, still trying to identify him. Had she seen him at the hospital? Maybe visited his kid with Gen?

He moved easily, athletic, but without the lean build of a serious runner, and she couldn’t imagine forgetting such piercing blue eyes, never mind the strong jaw with one cheek dimpled in a half-grin, or the tousled brown hair, flashing with caramel highlights in the weak morning sun.

Cara’s voice in her head cooed, Ooh, isn’t he a looker?

She’d be right, Abby supposed, if you were interested.

“Here, I wanted to return this to you.” The man held out the jacket.

She took it, recognizing it as her own, her eyebrows knitting as she struggled to remember when she’d lost it.

“Scott. Dylan’s dad.” He shifted from one foot to the other. “My son, he’s the one who fell off the monkey bars on the playground last week...”

The pieces finally slotted into place and Abby nodded. “Oh, right, sorry. How is he?”

“He’ll be fine. He’d gone into shock by the time we reached the hospital, like you said. He fractured his arm in two places and sprained his wrist, so he’ll be in a cast for the next eight weeks.”

Abby cringed. She had always hated working with broken bones. Even the memory of an open break turned her stomach.

“The doctor says he’ll recover, though, and with a little physical therapy, he’ll be as good as new.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Scott gestured at her jacket. “I wanted to make sure I got this back to you.”

“Thanks. You didn’t have to go to so much effort...” She trailed off as Gen, sitting beside her, leapt up to put her paws on Scott’s thigh, leaving a pair of dirty prints on his jeans. Abby dropped her jacket as she grabbed Gen’s collar to pull her off. “Gen, no ma’am.”

Scott reached down to cradle the dog’s head, scratching behind her ears until Gen’s back leg twitched. “It’s okay. I suppose I have her to thank as well.”

He grinned and Abby noticed he still had only one dimple. The asymmetry should have reduced his attractiveness, but it didn’t.

“Dylan won’t stop talking about her. Such an amazing dog. How she knew...”

“She’s a therapy dog. She’s trained to assist.” Abby retrieved her jacket, shaking the dirt from it and looping it around her waist.

Scott ruffled Gen’s ears one last time. “Well, that explains it. She’s remarkable.”

“Thanks.” Abby laid her hand on Gen’s head to settle her, worried she’d jump up again.

The silence stretched out for a few moments and Abby herded a small pebble across the trail with her toe before Scott cleared his throat.

“Listen, let me take you out...to say thank you. It means a lot to me that you helped take care of Dylan.”

“I’m not, uh...” Her voice trailed off, gesturing at her running clothes.

“Oh, no,” he reassured her. “Maybe tomorrow...” When Abby bit her lip, he continued, “Or next week sometime?”

Out wasn’t really her thing. And Scott owed her nothing for doing her job. Well, her used-to-be job. But as she opened her mouth to say no, Gen whined. When Abby glanced down, the dog dropped into a play bow.

“See, she’s saying yes.” Scott grinned, his stupid dimple deepening.

She wasn’t saying yes; she hadn’t been taught that command. But Abby couldn’t help the small smile sneaking across her lips as she watched her silly dog buttering up Scott in the hopes of getting him to play.

“Okay,” she relented. “Sure, maybe next week sometime.”