Page 4 of Numbers Boy
As I finish up my conversation with Amy, the front door opens.
“Why is it so freaking cold?” Blake says in lieu of a greeting.
I grin and take a sip of my tea before answering, “There’s tea in the kitchen.”
“Thanks, dude, you’re the best,” comes his reply, muffled as he takes off his layers of winter gear. A few minutes later, he’s made his trip to get his tea and is next to me on the couch, trying to wiggle his feet into my cocoon of warmth. I push his legs away with an exaggerated groan.
“Fuck off, get your own blanket.”
“But yours is already warmed up. Sharing is caring.” Blake burrows in deeper and lets out a happy sigh when I capitulate and throw the blanket over both of us. “Thanks.”
After getting comfy, he pulls the hair tie out of his man bun and shakes the loose blond waves out. Small flecks of water from where snow has melted into the strands land everywhere, just like the golden retriever I walked this morning. And just like that golden, Blake’s a giant goofball at heart.
“No problem. How was your day?”
“Not too bad, other than the freaking wind. I thought poor Cookie was going to get blown away when I took her out,” he jokes, referring to one of the Chihuahuas we regularly walk. He nods toward the door. “I saw the flyers on the table. Trying to get some post-holiday new pets to fill up our empty time slots?”
“That’s the hope,” I say before taking a sip of my drink. “I figured we could put them up during our rounds tomorrow.”
“Perfect. Now, pass me the remote. There’s a new episode ofMurders in the Dairylandout tonight.”
Shop talk over, Blake and I spend the evening watching our favorite true crime documentary.
CHAPTER THREE
Steve
WORKING BOYS CHAT
Mark: Hey Steve, I heard you were looking for a dog walker. I saw this ad online for a place you could contact. *Dog Walkers R Us website link*
Me: Thanks, Mark! I’ll check it out.
Greg: Oh that reminds me, Andrew saw this flyer on one of his runs *image attached*
Me: Anyone want to come with when I meet people?
Hen: Pick me, pick me! *hand raised emoji*
Hen: Wait is Stacy going to be there too?
Hen: Not that I’m only volunteering in order to see her *angel emoji*
Me: No, I’m going to wait to introduce her to whoever I hire. I’ll text you the details.
Hen: Awesome! You should totally see if they’ll meet up with you at Spill the Beans
Leighton: If you’re that hard up for cupcakes, Hen, I’ll drop some by your apartment tomorrow
Hen: Well I’m not going to turn down that offer *heart-eyes emoji**cupcake emoji*
THE FIRST PERSONI meet with about walking Stacy is an almost instant no. Henry and I are standing at the counter inside Spill the Beans, sipping coffees and chatting with Carlos,the owner. Through the front window, I watch as a lady, who I’m assuming is my contact, ties the leash of a German shepherd to the bike rack on the sidewalk. While that in itself isn’t completely unheard of, something about it makes my Spidey senses start tingling.
I give her a smile when she pushes open the door, and she returns it, but it feels forced.
“Are you Steve?” she asks.
“Yeah, are you Miranda?”
