Page 9 of Beach Cottage Kisses
“Did everyone graduate?” he asked. She’d been worried about a golden retriever who seemed a bit too shy to take on rooms of strangers in any kind of serviceable way.
Finally starting up the beach with him, after seconds of hesitation that had seemed to stretch into agonizing minutes, she said, “All but Sissy.” The golden. “She didn’t show up today. I’m guessing her owner realized that it’s not fair to Sissy to try to make her into something she is not.”
A very clear message seemed to ring there. He couldn’t tell if it was her tone as she said the words. The words themselves.
Or his own hypersensitivity to doing all he could to make sure the encounter went perfectly.
Did she think he wanted more from her?
Or that he thought she wanted more from him?
Not sure how to answer, but feeling as though she’d thrown a rope that would tie them up if he couldn’t grab it, he said, “That’s about the cruelest thing you can do to a person. Expect them to be different than they are. Or to have talents they don’t have. Rather than encouraging them in the talents they do have.”
He might not be husband, or life companion, material, but he had a lot of good things to offer. She’d said so herself. The night before. He showed up whenever he could. Didn’t put expectations on his friendship. Supported wherever he could.
Of course, they’d been talking about dogs, Sissy in particular, not people.
Not him.
Or her.
She’d been heading down the beach from her place to his and so he’d continued walking that way. Slowing his pace when she barely kept up. Scrambling for the right thing to say.
To draw her out.
Not sure what it was.
Was she avoiding him?
Afraid he’d already screwed things up with his people’s-expectations analogy, he ended up saying nothing.
And the dogs, as though sensing that something wasn’t right in the air around them, or within their owners, didn’t offer any distraction, either. No chasing each other, or anything else. They just walked, Morgan beside Scott, Angel right at Iris’s heel.
Scott tried to tell himself that was okay. Tried to remember if he and Iris walked in silence sometimes. Was still on the silent mental subject when she stopped in the sand.
“It’s been a long weekend, and I’ve still got pictures to go through for a meeting in the morning so I’m going to head back,” she said, bending down to ruffle Angel’s ears.
She was avoiding him.
“Sounds good,” Scott told her. “It was a long one. See ya later.”
With a click of his finger, he headed up toward the row of cottages, glad to see that Morgan was right beside him.
No embarrassing need to turn around and coax his housemate to stick by him.
But nothing to distract him from the words he’d left in the air behind him, either.
Not his usualenjoy your evening, orsleep wellor evenhave a good night.
See ya later?
What in the hell was that?
It was not good.
That’s what it was.
Just not good.
