Page 13 of Yorkie to My Heart (Friends of Gaynor Beach Animal Rescue #6)

Possibly because he hasn’t just walked home from the library? Had I pushed him too hard yesterday? I wanted to ask, but I didn’t want him to think that I was judging him. Or being too nosy.

Even though I totally was. Being nosy. Or wanting to be. “Yesterday was fun.” Nice and light.

“Yeah.” Phillip scratched his cheek again. “I didn’t return your baseball cap.”

“Keep it.”

He glanced at me sharply.

I shrugged. “I was never a big Kings fan. You saw how many caps I have. Enough for an entire baseball team.” Well, at least to cover every active player on the field.

“You’re sure?”

“Yep. Now, a Dodgers cap I might fight you for. So lucky you didn’t nab that one.” Totally not going to admit I’d give you that one as well. In a heartbeat. A little over the top.

“Well…thank you. That’s a very generous gift.”

Something in the way he said the word made my ears perk.

Almost like…he didn’t get them often. Which made me want to ask about his family.

And I restrained myself. Let him come to you.

My every instinct warned me that he was skittish.

Nothing overt. Just this pervasive sense of loneliness.

Of isolation. Yesterday, though, I’d made him smile while we prepared the food for lunch.

Then, he’d appeared to enjoy himself while we ate hot dogs at the beach.

Probably helped I’d spilled chili on myself. I never minded making a fool of myself if it made someone else laugh. As evidenced by my continual goofy ways with my nibblets. I had to be careful, though—sometimes Raphael saw right through me. Or took things too literally.

We’d be talking about one thing, and then nibblet would be off on another tangent. Probably baking up a storm. “What are your plans today?” We rounded a bend and headed into a more-shaded area of the park.

“I don’t have any plans.” He shrugged. “No, that’s not true.

I plan to spend more time training Wally.

He’s figured out this walking on leash thing so quickly.

I want to go through that list Jordan provided.

I want Jordan to see how much we can accomplish.

I know Arthur did some basic training at the shelter, but I need to prove… ”

“Need to prove…?”

“That they weren’t wrong in letting me rescue Wally.” He wiped at his eyes.

“Phillip.” I stopped.

He slowed. “Sorry, I?—”

“Please face me.”

After a moment, he turned to face me.

“No one—and I mean no one—can say you aren’t taking care of Wally. It’s barely been four days, and already I can see how attached he is to you. How much progress he’s made.”

“He hasn’t lost any weight. I haven’t lost any weight.”

My heart ached. I didn’t know much about weight loss—never having been in the position myself.

Marcie had complained about six months after Thaddeus’s birth that she wasn’t back to where she’d been.

I’d comforted her. And stupidly said I thought she looked gorgeous.

Wrong thing. But how was I supposed to have known?

She gave me a lecture, a lesson, and I’d learned.

So I swallowed, dredging up that conversation and how she’d told me she felt. “Phillip.”

“Yeah?”

“First, it’s been, what, four days?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” I swallowed again. God, let me not fuck this up . “Did the vet say Wally would lose weight in four days?” God, let me be focusing on the right thing.

He shook his head. “No. She said she wanted it to be gradual. Not to starve him and make his food insecurities worse. She figures at some point he’d been deprived, and now he feels he has to eat everything all at once and find more because he’s thinking he might have to go without again. Or…something like that.”

Is he talking about the dog or himself? Oh, sweetheart…

who hurt you so badly? “Okay. So maybe you need to talk to the vet about what’s realistic.

I understand weight loss can be unsteady.

Uneven. He’s got a lot to adjust to.” As do you.

“Look…” I floundered. “Would you like me to come to the vet with you? Would that help? Or would I just be interfering? You can tell me that I’m overstepping the friendship boundaries. ”

“Are we?” He squinted.

“Are we what?”

“Friends.”

His question rocked me. “Well, I thought so. Or I was hoping we might become friends. Good friends.”

“I thought we were just neighbors. That you were being nice to me because of Wally.”

Ouch. “Phillip…I met you because of Wally. Because of that first morning and when he came over to my house. But I certainly didn’t need to intrude on your lesson with Jordan. Or offer to take Wally.”

“But you did that because of him.”

“I did it because of you. Because you would’ve worried about him alone in his crate during your appointment.

Did I get the bonus of Wally’s company? Yes.

Did my nibblets and all the other kids love him?

For certain. But I didn’t do that just for his sake.

If you want— if you want —then you now have the opportunity to meet people in the neighborhood.

To make more friends. You might find me boring?—”

“No.” He nearly shouted the word. He gulped. “I thought you just…Wally…feeling sorry for me…”

“Nope and nope. I don’t ask people I feel sorry for to join me for lunch. Or take the time to walk with them. Or introduce them to the cutest teenager in Gaynor Beach.” I tapped my chin. “Actually, I’m not certain of Kevin’s age and I don’t want you to think?—”

“I don’t think.”

Phew . Only after I’d said the words had it struck me that they might be taken the wrong way. “Okay. So are we good? Friends?”

“Yeah. I guess.” He scrubbed his face again.

“Perfect. Got a doggie bag handy?”

He gazed down at Wally who’d just produced a very healthy pile of dog shit.

Phillip laughed. A bit wetly. “Uh, yeah.” He stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out one that was already open. “So no one has to be around the poop longer than they have to.” He bent over and scooped.

I always, irrationally, worried when he did that after seeing him tumble twice. But he remained steady on his feet. He bent at the knees. He kept his balance. He tied off the bag and hustled over to the trash can nearby.

Is now the right time to tell him that I’m gay? Well, maybe not immediately after dog poop. But he certainly seemed cool with Joe and Alec yesterday. And, more importantly, where does he fall on the spectrum? I found him attractive—on the inside and out.

He returned a shy smile. “I’ll get used to scooping. I swear. I just always worry.”

“As long as you’re not leaving the poop, you don’t need to worry. Dogs poop. That’s a thing. Just keep them away from the sand in the sandbox.” I bent over to scritch Wally’s ears. “He’s the perfect dog.”

“Yeah, he is.”

“And you’re the perfect friend.”

He sniffed. “You barely know me.”

Am I laying it on too thick? “Maybe. But I do in some of the ways that count. You’re good with animals, friendly to kids, and when you smile it brightens my day.”

“I don’t smile very often.”

“Which makes them all the more precious when you do.” I grinned. “I plan to make you smile more. So, do you have plans today?”

“I…I’m busy.”

“With training Wally, right? But how about you come over later and watch a movie? I still have that popcorn?—”

“No thanks.” He turned. “I have to go.”

“Can I at least walk with you?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “You need to run. I need to go home.”

With that, he headed off.

I wasn’t fool enough to follow him.