Page 105 of Wild Card 13

And for once in my life, I needed to learn how to stand behind one.

The dog chose that moment to sit on my shoe.

Lucy stared down at her. “Traitor.”

I looked down too, because if I looked at Lucy any longer I was going to say something selfish. “She has good instincts.”

“She has terrible instincts. She tried to eat a pinecone twenty minutes ago.”

“Maybe it was delicious.”

Lucy’s mouth trembled. Not a smile. Almost. The almost nearly killed me.

“What’s her name?” I asked softly.

Lucy hesitated. For a second, I thought she wouldn’t tell me. Then the dog looked up at her, ears too big for her face, leaf dust stuck to her nose, and Lucy’s expression gave way to something helpless.

“Dottie.”

“Dottie,” I said again, crouching carefully. “I’m Buzz.”

Lucy’s face changed. Because once, a long time ago, she had been the only person who called me Ty like it meant something no one else was allowed to touch. And now I had just introduced myself to her dog as the name everyone else got.

The safe one.

The public one.

The one that didn’t belong to her.

Dottie put both front paws on my knee. I swallowed and scratched behind her ear. “Nice to meet you,” I murmured.

Lucy’s voice was barely there. “She likes you.”

“Yeah.” I looked up at her. “I like her too.”

A cyclist called, “On your left,” as he passed, and Lucy stepped closer to the grass automatically, tugging Dottie with her. The leash stretched between us before Dottie reluctantly lowered her paws from my knee.

The distance came back. So did the cold.

Lucy cleared her throat. “I need rules.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

“At work, we are coworkers.”

“Technically you’re front office and I’m roster property.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Sorry,” I said immediately. “Bad time.” I nodded before continuing, “Coworkers.”

Dottie found a stick near the edge of the trail and picked it up sideways, immediately discovering it was too wide to carry without hitting Lucy in the calf.

Lucy closed her eyes. “Dottie.”