Page 65 of Love in Training
Drew nods, looking satisfied. Then he pushes his glasses up his nose and looks at me. “Okay, that’s good. Although I’d like to try something different with him this weekend.”
This weekend.
I blink at him, searching his burly frame for meaning while I try to process his words. He’s disrupted his endless rotation of chest-hugging Henleys in favor of a light blue button-down today, and the change would almost be funny if his forearms didn’t look so good with the rolled-up sleeves, and if he hadn’t just said what I think he just said.
I clear my throat. “I’m sorry, did you mean Saturday or Sunday?”
My annoyance must creep onto my face because the corners of his mouth pull down.
“Both,” he says. “Now that we’ve earned Rufus’s trust and he wants to work for us, it’s important to maintain consistency. Though I can do more with him if we go to my facility.”
My fantasies of not having to look into Drew Forbes’s chiseled face for forty-eight hours flit away like a traumatized butterfly.
“Is that really necessary?” I ask.
He has the audacity to look nonplussed. “Rufus is making progress. We don’t want to lose this momentum.”
“He’s not going to notice if we skip one day.”
The man bristles, stepping closer. “Because you want to lock him away in that jail cell of an apartment while you do what?”
“Sorry if I have alife,” I say, even though it feels like a lie. “But I have stuff going on that has nothing to do with pet ownership.”
“Then leave him with me,” he says.
“No.”
“Why?”
I fold my arms, mostly because I don’t have an answer other thanI don’t like you.“I don’t need you to be my dog sitter.”
“I didn’t suggest you need me.” He glances at Rufus. “But he does.”
I roll my eyes. “Look, fine. We can meetoneday to train him, not both. And I’m not leaving him with you. It’s been a busy week and I—I just have a bunch of work to catch up on.”
“Oh, yeah.” I swear I see his skin prickle. “Saw the article you wrote.”
For a moment, I blink. At no point has my writing about Unmatched intersected with our uneasy training relationship, but here he is dragging them together because why not—the only thing that could make our dynamic more unpleasant would be having to endure his criticism of my work. He probably wants to unleash some opinion about how men are allowed to cheat if they want.
“Lovely, thanks for being a reader,” I say, trying to shut him down before he starts. “Subscribe to theObserverfor more exclusive features.”
“It was well written.” He says this as if it physically pains him to compliment me, and I’m so surprised I almost laugh.
“Yeah, well, have fun debating my content with your girlfriend.”
“My... what?” His brows draw together behind his glasses like he doesn’t follow.
I nearly snort, because of course. Why did I ever think this prickly man would have a woman in his life who willingly spends time with him? I turn away, shaking my head, but as I walk to collect my things from under a tree, a strange warm sensation thuds through my chest.
“Never mind,” I snap. “I should go.”
I sling my bag over my shoulder, but when I look back, his jaw moves like he’s chewing on something. Finally, he says, “My parents will be complaining to theObserver... I thought you should know.”
Now I’m the one not following. I tilt my head, debating whether to ask what he means—until all at once my brain makes the leap. “Oh. The scholarship article?”
He gives me this look likewhat else, and I let my hair fall over my face, fumbling with Rufus’s leash. Maybe because it took me a moment, or because his compliment wasn’t what I thought it was. Honestly, I had been trying to forget I wrote that piece. I’d done my assignment, included the correct names and information—though I focused most on Kenyon Riley’s accomplishments and dreams. I’m not surprised the Doctors Forbes were unhappy.
“Well, they can get in line. Most of our mail is from people griping about our coverage,” I say through my teeth. “I think I exercised a great deal of restraint about the award, considering Kyle never wanted to be a doctor.”
