The Conundrum of Collies (Love & Pets #6) - A.G. Henley Page 0,27

is about disc dog club stuff and how much . . . isn’t? I say hello to them, but I don’t kiss or hug Emmy. The last thing I want to do is to give her the wrong impression.

Stevie already has electronic tickets for all of us. I’d offered to pay for mine, but she’d declined. She holds her phone out for the gate attendant and a few minutes later we’re standing in front of the lion exhibit, a frosty beer in each of our hands.

It is different visiting the zoo without kids or families around. I haven’t been here in years, but I remember dodging small humans who did their best to trip you up while also waiting patiently as crowds of moms, dads, grandparents, and kids pushed strollers, dragged wagons, chased escapers, and comforted criers, all while forcing their way to the fronts of the exhibits so the kids could see better.

Don’t get me wrong, I like kids and personally believe they should get all the front row viewing they want. But they make the zoo more chaotic, louder, and less desirable to visit on a normal day. Tonight is different. Small groups of adults move from exhibit to exhibit, chatting at a normal decibel level.

Take the lions, for example. Normally, wide eyes and sticky palms would be pressed against the glass to see them better. Now, a handful of people stand back so we all can gawk at the lions, hyenas, and wild dogs that share the big cat exhibit.

Unfortunately, there isn’t a lot to see right now. One lone female sits on a small hill in the middle of the dirt filled enclosure. The late afternoon sun glints off her golden fur, washing her out and somehow putting a spotlight on her at the same time. She gazes imperiously through the glass at us. Intruders, her expression seems to say. Unimportant ones.

I wonder how quickly she could chase me down if she was hungry enough. Too quickly to survive, I’m sure. She tosses her head and looks another direction as if she knows she’s being watched. She’s magnificent.

I’m wondering if lions eat birds, and if so, which kinds, when someone touches my arm. “Logan?”

I blink and focus on Emmy.

“Ready?”

Jude and Stevie have already walked away, totally focused on each other. Emmy waited for me. She really is a nice girl.

“Sorry, I guess I was lost in thought. That lion is amazing.”

“She really is. Although my personal favorites are the seals and sea lions. They’re so playful.”

“What about Jude?” My eyes are on his back ahead as we follow them onto the main path. “What does he want to see?” I’m not just talking about animals.

“I think he likes the tigers best.”

Tigers, huh? That figures. The tiger’s stalking my girl. My eyes narrow.

Emmy goes on. “Stevie said you’re a big fan of birds?”

I wince. “She told you that, huh?”

Her forehead wrinkles. “Shouldn’t she have?”

I sigh. “No, it’s fine. It’s only that bird watching isn’t, you know, all that popular.”

“I think it’s great to have a hobby, no matter what it is.”

I smile. “Thanks. I agree.”

We pass a building that houses the new stingray exhibit on the left, or so the sign outside says, and I spot zebras coming up on the right. Huge, overhanging trees, low music playing through speakers hidden in rocks, free-roaming peacocks, and even the ever-present smell of animal poo adds to the zoo vibe. I relax a little. I’m here now; might as well enjoy it.

“How was the rest of your week?” I ask. “Do anything fun?”

I’d seen her two days ago at club, but we need something to talk about. She tells me about a series she’s watching on Netflix about a woman who journeys alone into Colorado to build a homestead in the 1800s. It sounds good, but about halfway through her description of the show, I lose my focus.

Jude has his hand on Stevie’s back. Her lower back, right where it meets her butt, a place where hands really aren’t supposed to visit unless they know that particular back very well. My jaw tightens, and I feel my hands forming fists. He guides her around a knot of people blocking the path but leaves his hand there for way too long after he’s accomplished that goal.

When I glance back at Emmy, she’s stopped talking. Her mouth twitches, and her right eyebrow is raised. “Logan . . . can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” I try to focus, but half my brain