“Linc Caldwell? As in the former goalie for the Rangers?”
I turn and grin at her, psyched that I found something to engage her in conversation. “Yup. The one and only. Are you a fan?”
Turning my eyes back to the road, I can’t help but take one more quick peek at her. I see a wisp of a smile and her eyes look a bit livelier. “I love hockey and definitely pull for the Rangers. I was sad to see him go.”
“Yeah... he was sad to go to. I can get you an autographed picture or something if you want.”
Her voice is sharp as a razor. “And just what would I do with it? Frame it and set it on the mantel that hangs over my fireplace?”
Damn, this girl is shrouded in iron.
Just when I thought I had her softened up a bit, she closes back up. Luckily, the conversation is saved from going further as I pull up to the grocer near my apartment. Putting the car in park, I leave the engine running so she and Capone will have the air conditioning.
I point to the backseat where I can see Capone is snoozing hard. “Anything in particular he likes to eat?”
“Just any type of dry dog food. Just get a small bag though, as he’ll only need enough for tonight and for tomorrow morning.”
Her statement is clear... she’s moving on come sunrise.
“You got it. Be back in a few.” I stare at her a moment before exiting the car, but she turns away and continues staring out the passenger window.
The dog food has been purchased and the ride to my apartment was done in absolute silence. After parking in my assigned spot, I walk with Rowan and Capone up the three flights of stairs to my humble abode. I’ve got my duffel bag slung over one shoulder and I’m carrying a thirty-pound bag of dog food over the other. Rowan has her hand lightly on Capone’s collar but I don’t think she’s really afraid he’ll bolt off.
When I came out of the store carrying the huge bag of dog food, she didn’t say anything, just raised her eyebrows at me. The fact that I bought such a huge bag of food sends a clear message as well... she’s welcome to stay a few days longer if she needs to. At least I’m guessing that’s what my subconscious is telling her.
When we reach my door, I look down at her. “Can you grab my keys? They’re in my front right pocket.”
The minute I ask the question, I’m suddenly aware that could be seen as a very lewd and inappropriate request. But Rowan only says a quick, “Yup” and then her hand is disappearing into my pants. She makes quick work of grabbing my keys—which are luckily resting in the part of my pocket that lays against the outer part of my thigh—and holds them up to me.
“It’s the silver one on the end. It opens the deadbolt and the door lock.”
Rowan makes quick work of the locks and opens the door, stepping back so I can walk in first. Throwing my duffel to the floor, I walk into the kitchen and set the dog food down. I hear the front door close and the locks re-engage, and then Rowan walks in behind me with Capone on her heels.
“Do you mind if I feed him and give him some water?”
“Not at all.”
Reaching into a cupboard, I pull out two large, stainless-steel bowls. I hand her one and I take the other to the sink to fill up. I can hear Rowan ripping into the dog food and scooping some into the bowl.
Capone is in doggie heaven when we set both of the bowls down. Poor pup goes immediately for the water, and I’m not surprised with him running around outside all day. After he has his fill, he lifts that big, shaggy head and water spills out from the sides of his mouth all over my floor. Grimacing inside, I resist the urge to get a towel and mop it up. I don’t want to do anything that makes Rowan feel uncomfortable to be here, and if I have to learn to live with some dog slobber, then I’ll do it.
Capone turns to the food and starts chomping away. We both just watch him silently for a few minutes. He’s a clear multitasker because he steadily keeps his face buried in the food, all the while wagging his tail to show his happiness.
When I look at Rowan, she’s watching him with a look of worry on her face.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
She doesn’t respond at first and then she slowly drags her gaze away from the dog, but by the time her eyes meet mine, the worry is gone. “Nothing. I’m good. Just happy to have him back.”
She’s lying to me... I know it. She’s very smooth at it and makes her transition easily, but I can still see the lie in her eyes.
“Tell you what... let’s discuss a game plan for the night. I suggest we order a pizza to be delivered. I’m sure you’d like a nice shower, since you smell like the inside of a fireplace, and I’ll give you some of my clothes to wear for the night. Then we’ll discuss your next move.”
She opens her mouth as if she’s going to argue with me about discussing her next move, but then just as quickly shuts it. I’m clever enough to know that she’s not capitulating, just putting off having to engage in conversation with me.
“I’ll take you up on that,” she says. “But I need to walk Capone after he’s done eating.”
“I’ll handle that,” I tell her. “Come on back to my room... let me grab you some clothes and you can get in the shower.”
She follows me back down the short hall to my bedroom. Opening the door, I sigh inwardly at the mess. I’ve got dirty clothes strewn all over the floor and old beer bottles on the nightstand. At least I don’t keep dirty dishes back here.