be one or the other. “It’s a showdown. We have them a few times a week, usually in the morning.”
“Does he always want to be carried?”
“Um, no.” He just wants attention, and if you would stop petting him, maybe he would walk like a normal dog. One who doesn’t insist on staying put, refusing to walk another step farther until I bend down and scoop him up.
Jesus Christ he’s heavier than a giant bag of dog food.
“What a goofy dog!” Spencer exclaims.
“Goofy is not how I would describe him,” I pant, already out of breath. Thank God her place is right freaking there. In a few minutes I’ll be able to put the dog down. “Last week he pretended to have a limp.”
“He did not!”
“Yup. He dragged his hind quarters down the sidewalk like his back leg was broken, like a stray in a tourist town.” Goofy does not begin to describe this dog.
Humphrey luxuriates in having my arms wrapped around him, head held high as if he is front and center in a parade, one starring him, with people there to view him and only him.
Such a showboating spectacle.
He takes the opportunity to let out a howl of pleasure, alerting anyone within earshot of his presence.
“Shh, no,” I tell him sternly. “Do you want me to put you down?”
He stops bleating like the town crier.
“That dog is…really something else.” Spencer giggles. “I would offer to babysit for him if you ever go out of town, but honestly, I don’t know if I’d be able to handle it.”
“Believe me, we’ve gone through a whole roster of babysitters. There is only one person he listens to, and it isn’t me. Her name is Stacy and she’s eighteen. She must smell like bacon and chicken cutlets, because he adores her and listens to everything she says.”
“Why do you sound so annoyed?”
“Because it annoys me that he doesn’t give a shit about anything I say.”
“Does he know you’re the boss? You’re the leader of his pack.”
I shoot her an irritated look. “You think I haven’t taken him to obedience classes? Literally nothing works for this dog. He does. Not. Give. A. Shit. I mean, look at him!” I try to hoist the dog higher to illustrate my point, but he’s overweight and I’m afraid I’ll drop him.
“Maybe if you didn’t pick him up every time he wanted to be picked up…” Spencer starts.
I silence her with my narrowed stare, the dog and I now panting in unison.
Spencer puts up her hands in mock retreat. “Okay, okay, I’m only saying. Sorry.” Nothing can hide the grin on her pretty face. “He does look like a chunky handful. Literally.”
Ha fucking ha. But he is. “It feels like he weighs a million pounds.”
“You must be strong though if you can carry all that weight so many blocks,” Spencer demurs, bowing her head and burying her face in the collar of her shirt, flirting.
That’s what she’s doing, isn’t it? Flirting? Shit. It’s been so long since a woman has been coy with me, I barely know what it looks like anymore.
I set the dog down, much to his ire. He grunts unhappily but forgets to be stubborn when he discovers a new bush to sniff and explore.
Good, he’s distracted.
Gripping his lead, I stuff my hands in my pockets as Spencer hesitates on the steps up to her door.
“Is this whole place yours?” I ask, curious.
“No, it’s actually an apartment. I’m the top.”
The top.
My mind goes into the gutter, picturing her on top. Of me.
“It’s cute,” she says. “Expensive, but cute.”
“Bet it’s no fun when you have groceries.” I know I don’t enjoy having to haul shit in, and my kitchen is on the first floor of my brownstone, not up three stories of narrow stairs.
“It’s not fun, even when I don’t have groceries. Moving in was terrible. Luckily it came half furnished—granted, the couch is shitty. I’ve only fallen through it once, though, so that’s a plus.”
Why are we standing here, making idle chitchat? It’s not exactly warm and toasty outside, and my hands are getting cold even though they’re stuffed in my pockets. Spencer is rambling about her apartment, the fact that she couldn’t move a new sofa in unless it went through a window. She rambles about…birds?
She’s adorable, and I consider what I would do if we had been drinking tonight, what I would do if I had liquid courage. Would I lean in to kiss her?