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“I am, and we really are looking forward to dinner.”
Their eyes locked, and he felt a flicker of attraction low in his gut.
“Want to talk about your dog?” he asked, more to distract himself than to learn about Belle.
Reggie smiled. “We already have. She’s a rescue.”
He nodded at the coatrack by the kitchen door. “I meant her wardrobe. I’ve seen her around town. She has quite the fashion collection. Where do you buy clothes for a dog her size?” He frowned. “Or any dog?”
“There are plenty of pet boutiques, including one across from your store in The Wreath. Dog clothes are a thing.”
“I thought they sold dog food. I hope you’re kidding me about the clothes.”
“I’m not. But Belle’s size makes her difficult to fit, so I make most of her clothes. She complains when I put them on, but I know she appreciates me keeping her warm.”
“She complains? How?”
“It’s mostly on the inside, but I’m good at reading her mind.”
“You’re good at assuming what she’s thinking,” he corrected her. “In truth, you have no idea.”
She grinned. “You’re wrong. I work with inventors, helping them get their products ready for market. Right now I’m dealing with an automatic vacuum that terrifies her. When she looks at it, I know exactly what she’s thinking.”
“She’s a big girl. Why doesn’t she just destroy it?”
“We’ve had that exact conversation, and Belle has no idea how powerful she is. I’m trying to self-actualize her, but it’s slow going.”
He smiled at her. “I would imagine.”
Reggie looked at him. “You know I’m helping Dena with the charity project, right?”
“She mentioned you would be in charge.”
“I’ll try to be a benevolent dictator.”
“Probably a good plan. Eight-year-olds are often ready for an uprising.”
“We can’t have that,” she said lightly. “There’s too much work to be done, and it’s for a good cause. I’ve been practicing my loom knitting. I think the kids will enjoy it, and the loom will be easier for them than regular knitting.”
“You knit?”
“Where do you think Belle gets her sweaters?”
“Impressive.”
Reggie’s mother breezed into the kitchen. “There you two are. Come join us. We’re trying to remember when you two started dating. Your father says you weren’t allowed to date when you were a sophomore, but I told him you were. Which is it, Reggie?”
“Mom, we’re not going to talk about that.”
Leigh smiled at them both. “Too late! Besides, isn’t it better to get all this awkward talk out of the way so we can enjoy our dinner in peace?”
Toby glanced longingly toward the back door. Reggie intercepted the look and shook her head.
“No way. If I have to endure it, then you do, too. We’ll come up with an alternative topic to distract them.”
“Good luck with that,” he said, his voice teasing.
“You need a more positive attitude.”
