The Conundrum of Collies (Love & Pets #6) - A.G. Henley Page 0,20

to actually perish, a couple of families enjoy the fountain beside us. It’s one of those features that randomly shoots sprays of water into the air, and the kids run through them. In this case, six kids are fully suited up in bathing suits and one even wears goggles and a set of water wings for some reason. Bean lies at our feet and watches them, too.

Logan chuckles as one of the kids shrieks. A spray apparently hit a little guy square in the face. It must not have hurt because the boy laughs delightedly. The girl with water wings refuses to get wet at all. She stands at the side, watching. Why do I have a feeling that would have been me back in the day?

“You okay?” Logan asks me.

I sigh. “Why did I think I could do this?”

“Getting into running is always hard. And although we stretched a little, and you are in decent shape, it takes some time for your legs to adjust.”

“Like how long?”

“A few weeks, maybe?”

I groan. “Weeks?”

“If running was easy and unceasingly enjoyable, everyone would do it.”

I throw an arm out at the joggers, runners, and speed walkers going by. “It looks like everyone in Denver does do it.”

“C’mon,” Logan says, patting me. “We’ll walk for a while and then go again. The run-walk strategy works for a lot of new runners.”

I stand. My legs feel like a pair of melting popsicles, but they hold my weight. Bean jumps up, ready to go.

“You suck, too,” I mutter at her.

“Let’s head this way,” Logan says, starting to jog. “I want to show you something.”

I follow, already intensely regretting adding item number nine to my bucket list. He leads me down a path along the edge of the park that borders the zoo.

“We should . . . go to the zoo soon,” I pant. “We haven’t been . . . in a long time.”

“Like years,” Logan says easily.

“Maybe . . . invite Emmy and Jude,” I say. “I like them. Don’t you?”

He hesitates, but then quickly answers yes. Huh. I stop running. It’s been a minute; time to walk. Logan slows, too.

“Wait, do you like them?” I ask when I can. “I think they’ve been so great about helping us at the club meetings. Bean wouldn’t have gotten nearly as far as she has without them.”

He nods. “Yep, they’re great.” He doesn’t sound enthusiastic until he adds, “Especially Emmy.”

My heart does a funny flip flop, which I take as excitement. He’s playing directly into my plan. “I don’t have to invite Jude.”

He runs a hand through his not-even-the-least-bit-sweaty hair. “No, no. Invite him. He’s a good guy.”

I brighten. “I think so, too. Sweet—I’ll see when they’re free. Where are we going, by the way?”

“Here.” Logan gestures to the little lake that sits between the park and the wall around the zoo. Tons of birds are always in and around it, and people feeding and watching the birds along the edges. Which brings the squirrels, pigeons, and ants. It’s a zoo out here, too, come to think of it.

Today’s no different. We stand beside the water and watch feathered friends go about their business. Bean looks like she wishes she could round them all up, so I hold her leash tightly. The last thing wild animals need is for Bean to chase them. Chickens are bad enough.

“Are we looking at something in particular?” I ask.

Logan points to a tall gray bird with a bright orange beak and pink legs. “See that goose? She’s really unusual. This species usually lives in Eurasia, but occasionally they can be found other places, like . . . here.”

I moan. “Not another bird lesson.”

My friend’s expression slips from eager to carefully neutral. “Okay. No more. Sorry.”

As he walks away, I grab his arm. It slips through my grasp until I’m holding his hand. “I’m sorry, Logan. I was teasing. I like learning about the birds. Truly.”

I catch his eyes, too, apologizing with my gaze. He’s seen my sorry face often enough over a lifetime of friendship, that’s for sure. “What species is this?”

He half-smiles, a lopsided look that is his apology accepted expression. “A graylag goose. And his mate should be around here somewhere, too. Like a lot of geese, they mate for life.” We search the lake, but no other geese match. Logan’s eyebrows pinch. “Maybe she’s out feeding.”

“What’s so cool about the graylags, other than that they’re lost?” I joke.

“Well, an ocean and half a continent away from home is