Kona curled up at my feet, I wanted to tell her that she was barking up the wrong tree.
Journey bumped my shoulder. “Hey, you okay? You disappeared on me for a little bit.”
I felt my ears warm, realizing I’d been staring at the picture on my phone far too long. If I got to the pictures I’d taken of his last day, sitting in front of his favorite snack that I rarely let him have—a plain hamburger—and smiling that doggy smile, but too exhausted to even try to eat, I couldn’t guarantee what I’d do. Especially with Journey being so sweet and all. Rosy had helped him cross over the Rainbow Bridge later that same day, and he’d died peacefully, his big head resting trustingly in my lap.
I hit the Sleep button on my phone. “That’s enough of that, I think.”
“Hey,” Journey protested.
“What, you were enjoying my dead-dog home movie?” I joked, even though I still felt a little raw. “For a double feature, I can show you the cat I fostered who ran away.”
His knowing gaze called bullshit on my jovial tone. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make jokes about it. I think how you feel about animals is pretty amazing. They’re the most wonderful, perfect, honest creatures, and they deserve the best.”
Please stop, I wanted to say. Please stop saying all the right things before I beg you to come home with me.
“I do what I can,” I croaked. “That’s why I’m a vet, I guess.”
“You’ve always had a way about you, Foss. There’s just something about you that lets a person know he’s in good hands.” He propped his chin on his fist as he smiled at me lazily. “Huh.”
I didn’t like that huh; there was a wealth of meaning in that huh. “What?”
“I forgot what a nice fucking guy you are.”
“I wasn’t aware that was a bad thing.”
“It’s not.” He certainly made it sound like one. I had a feeling any sort of offer of meaningless sex was now off the table. Sure enough, he went on, “I just don’t do nice guys anymore.”
I scowled. “I rejected you first.”
He laughed. “Duly noted.”
We talked, polished off a few more drinks, and time passed rather quickly. As the night wore on, it became harder and harder to remember why I’d thought us sleeping together was a bad idea. You did the right thing, I reminded myself. So what if I watched his mouth or his throat move? Who could blame me? And who knew a throat could be so damn sexy?
At one point, Journey went to the bathroom, and I wasn’t even ashamed to admit I watched his ass the whole way. That perfectly fuckable, round ass. The only thing that brought me back to reality was a sudden wet spot on my shirt, which made me check to make sure I wasn’t drooling like a dog. Luckily, I was still in control of my bodily functions. I’d just been mid-drink when I was temporarily paralyzed by the sight of Journey’s ass in those jeans. I shook my head wryly, putting my drink down before I wound up wearing the rest. But really, his body should come with some type of warning.
Two glasses of water suddenly appeared on the bar in front of me, and I looked up into Hudson’s grinning face. “I’m not drunk,” I informed him. My statement probably would’ve carried more weight if I hadn’t hiccupped at the end. “Maybe a little buzzed, but that’s it.”
He chuckled. “Just drink it.”
Begrudgingly, I took a few sips while he stared at me like a bug on a microscope slide. “What?” I finally asked.
“You and Journey, huh? Don’t think I saw that one coming.”
I blinked at him stupidly. “Saw what one coming?”
He went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “I mean, the way things ended between you guys? I didn’t think you’d ever get back together.”
“We’re not getting back together.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“It’s not a crime to have a drink and a chat with an ex, you know,” I said exasperatedly. “And just what would you know about our breakup?”
“Mindy’s newsletter.” He gave me a no-duh look. “She had a feature story called “Ancient History,” where she profiled lots of the town’s favorite former couples.” When I just arched an eyebrow, he added helpfully, “You guys were number two, right behind the Aldacotts.”
God, this town really needed to let go of their hopes for a Journey/Cam reunion. And number two? What the hell was up with that?
“How did we score