that Geezer is at his feet, and he hasn’t made any move to come and greet me either. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You’re not interrupting,” he says, standing up and turning to face me. “I just didn’t hear you.”
We stand there, awkwardly, while I try to summon up the courage to do what I came here to do. I approach him quickly, before I lose my nerve.
“I’m sorry,” I say again, handing the six-pack of beer to him. “This is just to say I’m sorry, for earlier. I didn’t mean to… “
I swallow down the rest of the words, because they don’t really mean anything to anyone but me.
“Anyway,” I say, trying again. “This is for you.”
He takes the beer from me and his eyebrows knit together, like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to put together. Silently, I wish him luck.
“Thanks.”
I nod, my hands clasped firmly in front of me as I try to remember what to do with them. My courage, the small amount I have in reserve, disappears.
“You’re welcome,” I say, backing away. “I should go. Enjoy the beer.”
I turn and make it three steps before Geezer is at my side, licking my fingers.
“Aren’t you going to stay and help me drink this?” Luke asks.
Reaching down to run my fingers through Geezer’s soft fur, I have no idea what to say to him.
“Come on,” he says tentatively, almost pleadingly. “Stay, for a little while at least.”
Part of me wants to. Part of me wants to run back through the trees to safety. I stand up straight again. I’m not sure I’m ready for this. I’m not even sure I deserve it. It’s certainly not what I was expecting. I was hoping to just give him a peace offering and an apology and leave it at that. Apparently, that’s not going to be enough for him.
“Okay,” I say, hoping I don’t sound as reluctant as I feel.
I turn back to him, and he’s smiling.
Chapter 11
Luke is nothing like his first impression. It takes me until my second beer to realise that, as I watch him with Geezer. He’s good-looking, there’s no doubt about that, but he’s an onion. There are layers. I can see them, but I don’t want to peel them away. I don’t want to dig any deeper because I don’t have the energy for someone else’s layers. I barely have the energy to stop my own from peeling away without warning.
He’s lying on the grass with Geezer, practically using him as a pillow. Geezer is wrapped around his head quite contentedly. They look so peaceful together, as if they’ve known each other all their lives. It must be true what they say about dogs choosing their owners.
“So, is it your shoulder?” I ask from my seat on the stack of timber that serves as a bench. “Keeping you from working on the house, I mean.”
He looks up at me, squinting into the sun, his beer bottle resting on his stomach, long legs crossed at the ankles as he lies on the grass.
“Yeah, partly. It’s still pretty tender.”
“Maybe you need to see a doctor. You might’ve pulled something.”
“If I have, there’s nothing a doctor can do about it. I have some anti-inflammatories. It’ll be fine, just need to rest it for a couple days.”
All the while he’s talking, he’s sitting up, drawing his knees up. Geezer gives him a sidelong glance but doesn’t move.
“I should apologise, for this morning,” he says. “I didn’t mean to cramp your style. I guess I just liked having a bit of company every now and then.”
My cheeks flush hot and I look down at my beer, resting on my thigh. I don’t even drink beer, but I was too much of a coward to say no to one, not after I treated him so badly. It’s not fair to let him think it was something he said or did.
“You don’t have to apologise. I was just… having a bad day, that’s all. I’m sorry, again. I didn’t mean to lash out like that.”
That’s only partly true. I did mean to lash out. I knew exactly what I was doing. It was just misdirected. He wasn’t the one I was angry with,
“You’re not interrupting,” he says, standing up and turning to face me. “I just didn’t hear you.”
We stand there, awkwardly, while I try to summon up the courage to do what I came here to do. I approach him quickly, before I lose my nerve.
“I’m sorry,” I say again, handing the six-pack of beer to him. “This is just to say I’m sorry, for earlier. I didn’t mean to… “
I swallow down the rest of the words, because they don’t really mean anything to anyone but me.
“Anyway,” I say, trying again. “This is for you.”
He takes the beer from me and his eyebrows knit together, like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to put together. Silently, I wish him luck.
“Thanks.”
I nod, my hands clasped firmly in front of me as I try to remember what to do with them. My courage, the small amount I have in reserve, disappears.
“You’re welcome,” I say, backing away. “I should go. Enjoy the beer.”
I turn and make it three steps before Geezer is at my side, licking my fingers.
“Aren’t you going to stay and help me drink this?” Luke asks.
Reaching down to run my fingers through Geezer’s soft fur, I have no idea what to say to him.
“Come on,” he says tentatively, almost pleadingly. “Stay, for a little while at least.”
Part of me wants to. Part of me wants to run back through the trees to safety. I stand up straight again. I’m not sure I’m ready for this. I’m not even sure I deserve it. It’s certainly not what I was expecting. I was hoping to just give him a peace offering and an apology and leave it at that. Apparently, that’s not going to be enough for him.
“Okay,” I say, hoping I don’t sound as reluctant as I feel.
I turn back to him, and he’s smiling.
Chapter 11
Luke is nothing like his first impression. It takes me until my second beer to realise that, as I watch him with Geezer. He’s good-looking, there’s no doubt about that, but he’s an onion. There are layers. I can see them, but I don’t want to peel them away. I don’t want to dig any deeper because I don’t have the energy for someone else’s layers. I barely have the energy to stop my own from peeling away without warning.
He’s lying on the grass with Geezer, practically using him as a pillow. Geezer is wrapped around his head quite contentedly. They look so peaceful together, as if they’ve known each other all their lives. It must be true what they say about dogs choosing their owners.
“So, is it your shoulder?” I ask from my seat on the stack of timber that serves as a bench. “Keeping you from working on the house, I mean.”
He looks up at me, squinting into the sun, his beer bottle resting on his stomach, long legs crossed at the ankles as he lies on the grass.
“Yeah, partly. It’s still pretty tender.”
“Maybe you need to see a doctor. You might’ve pulled something.”
“If I have, there’s nothing a doctor can do about it. I have some anti-inflammatories. It’ll be fine, just need to rest it for a couple days.”
All the while he’s talking, he’s sitting up, drawing his knees up. Geezer gives him a sidelong glance but doesn’t move.
“I should apologise, for this morning,” he says. “I didn’t mean to cramp your style. I guess I just liked having a bit of company every now and then.”
My cheeks flush hot and I look down at my beer, resting on my thigh. I don’t even drink beer, but I was too much of a coward to say no to one, not after I treated him so badly. It’s not fair to let him think it was something he said or did.
“You don’t have to apologise. I was just… having a bad day, that’s all. I’m sorry, again. I didn’t mean to lash out like that.”
That’s only partly true. I did mean to lash out. I knew exactly what I was doing. It was just misdirected. He wasn’t the one I was angry with,
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