North and Shaw Out of Office - Gregory Ashe Page 0,39

kissed him again. “How about you just ask me?”

4

NORTH LET THE PUPPY down, and the little dog went skittering across the wood floor of the office. Then North set the shopping bag on the desk.

“Where have you been?” Shaw asked, looking up from his MacBook. “Oh.”

“What’s that mean?”

“You went out with the puppy again.”

“And what does that mean?”

“Nothing.”

“It didn’t sound like nothing.”

“Well, I said it was nothing, didn’t I?”

“You did. You really did.” North could feel the rest of it, though, and he decided to wait.

A moment later, it came. Shaw said, “It’s just that you went for a run with the puppy last night. And the night before that was puppy obedience school. And the night before that, I know you told me that you were going to the dog park, but I made dinner, and you spent like two hours there.”

“I thought we talked about this.”

“That’s why I told you it’s nothing.”

North knew exactly how this game went. He lost no matter how he played, so he decided to play it quiet.

“And I thought we were going to get lunch today at Blues City Deli, but you’ve been gone forever.”

North nodded slowly. He opened the bag and pulled out the organic peanut nibbles, the specially made doggie cookies from Treats Unleashed, the new leash and the new collar and the new ball. He tossed the ball between his hands. Smack. Smack. Smack.

Shaw glanced up, but he didn’t say anything. He bent back over the MacBook. He was trying really hard to look like he was focusing, and it was adorable. North had to hide his smile as he kept the ball moving back and forth, back and forth. Smack. North let himself enjoy the view: Shaw in a button-up shirt, a tie, skinny black jeans. Smack went the ball again. It was an incongruously congruous outfit for Shaw, and North thought maybe he’d missed something. Smack.

“Hey, North?”

“Yeah.” Smack.

“I’m really trying to get these spreadsheets done.”

“Awesome. Thank you for doing that.” Smack.

Shaw didn’t look up the next time. He just pulled at his tie, scrubbed fingers through his hair, rolled his chair back from the desk and then rammed it home again. The hair, that part was especially fun to watch. It was starting to grow back, and his touch had left huge spikes standing up. North had to bite the inside of his mouth as he kept the ball moving. Smack. Smack. Smack.

“Could you do that somewhere else?” Shaw finally asked.

“I don’t want to do it in the front office,” North said. “Pari’s trying to work.”

“I’m trying to—” Shaw cut off the shout with a strangled effort. “What about upstairs? You can use the front room?”

“I thought maybe you’d like to watch us play fetch.”

“North.”

“I know, I know. I’ll be quiet.” He scooped up the puppy, and the dog yipped with excitement. “We’ll both be quiet, won’t we?”

“I really don’t think—”

“Scout’s honor,” North said, holding up three fingers.

“You were never a Boy Scout.”

“I fucked a lot of Boy Scouts. Does that count?”

Screwing up his face, Shaw dropped into the chair again and hammered on the keyboard. North lowered himself into a crouch, held the ball up before the puppy, and then launched the ball. Thwack. It bounced back from the wall, and the puppy whined and struggled to get loose from North’s grip. North caught the ball as it rolled back and tossed it again. Thwack. The puppy’s little nails dug into North’s knee as he tried to squirm free. North held the ball up again; the puppy gave a pathetic whine and lunged.

“I think you’ve got some reports to type,” Shaw said, the words too high in pitch, too fast.

“I do?”

“From the First Bank of Ferguson job.”

North rolled his shoulders. Then, setting the puppy down, he whipped the ball at the door. The hollow wood boomed, and the ball ricocheted, cracking against a stack of paperbacks on Shaw’s desk. The mountain of novels crumbled, books sliding off the desk as Shaw tried to catch them and keep the pile from dissolving. The puppy scrambled after the ball, barking and struggling to keep his footing as he raced in pursuit.

“Sorry!”

“North, what the hell?”

“I’m sorry. That was an accident.”

“Can you just type the report? And we’ve got to do the itemized expenses too, and—”

“I’m pretty sure I did them already.”

“No.” Shaw dragged the pile of books into the center of the desk, reassembling the stack. “Trust me: you didn’t.”

North considered this for a moment. Then he rocketed the ball