The Penalty Box (Vancouver Wolves Hockey #3) - Odette Stone Page 0,29
golden retriever.
“Oh, aren’t you darling?” I crouched down to get eye level with the dog, rubbing its soft ears while the dog gave me a panting smile.
“I see you’ve met Sandy,” a male voice said from behind me.
I looked over my shoulder to see a tall, striking man. He had black-framed glasses, thick salt-and-pepper hair and a kind smile. I pegged him to be in his mid-thirties. He smiled down at me.
“She’s beautiful.”
“She’s the most social of the two. Henry is more the explorer.” He nodded towards a second golden retriever that was walking along the park, his nose in the grass, intent on smelling something.
I pushed to stand up. “I love dogs.”
Sandy buried her nose into my hand again, asking for more. I laughed and bent over her to place a kiss on her face. “She’s gorgeous.”
I noticed that more people started to gather around the park with their dogs. “Wow, seems like everyone has a dog.”
“We’re part of a dog-walking group. Our group meets daily to walk down to the off-leash park.”
I patted Sandy one last time on her head. “That sounds like fun. I wish I had a dog.”
He shrugged. “You can borrow Sandy, if you want to join us.”
I didn’t quite know what to make of that offer.
He added, “We don’t bite.”
The thought of heading back home to Mica’s empty house depressed me. “Okay, thanks.”
“My name is Andrew.”
“Charlie.”
He put Sandy on a leash for me and together we started walking with the group. He was true to his word. I walked beside him, listening to him chat with another dog owner. He didn’t pepper me with questions, but he included me in the conversation by occasionally smiling at me.
At the dog park, he gave me a ball, and Sandy and I played a game of catch. I threw the ball a dozen times, loving how she raced after that ball with complete abandon every time, never tiring of the game.
“She can do that all day long,” Andrew said beside me. “And you just became her new best friend.”
I laughed and threw the ball hard. “Did I mention that I love dogs?”
“Well, she loves you. Have you ever had a dog?”
I shook my head. “I’ve never had the time. I think a dog needs a lot of time and commitment.”
“Well, you are welcome to join our group any time. We are a motley group, but we stick together. When Jenn, one of our group members, broke her leg last year, there was someone from our group who picked up her dog twice a day for a walk. We look out for each other.”
“That’s amazing.”
“This group has become one of my most important groups of friends.” He smiled down at me. “And we are always open to new friends.”
I flushed under his scrutiny. “It’d be weird to join a walking group without a dog.”
“You’ve got an open invitation to walk Sandy whenever you want. I’m all about dog sharing.” He whistled at the dogs and yelled, “Come on, guys. Time to head home.”
Sandy, panting hard, trotted towards me, allowing me to clip the leash back on her harness. Together we started walking back in the direction we came.
“So, are you new to the neighborhood?”
I blinked, not sure quite how much I wanted to tell him.
He smiled down at me. “Sorry, I spend way too much time with my dogs. My people skills are rusty.”
“That’s okay.” I worked to direct the conversation away from me. “Have you lived in this neighborhood long?”
“About five years. My wife inherited a house on this street when her grandmother passed away. Otherwise, there is no way I could afford to live here.”
“Oh. It’s a beautiful neighborhood.”
“My wife loved it here.”
The past tense of the word love dropped like a rock into the conversation. I gave him a questioning glance but didn’t ask.
He winced. “She passed away 18 months ago. To cancer.”
“I’m sorry,” I murmured.
“No, I’m sorry. You know, it’s a total conversation killer when I bring up the dead wife.”
His dark humor pulled shocked laughter out of me.
His tone became more serious. “I loved her. With all my heart. She was everything to me and when she left me, I didn’t think I would recover. But now, as much as I love her, I just want to get past that. When you are widowed, it becomes part of your identity, and frankly, I’m tired of it. Tired of the pitying looks and tired of feeling sad.”