The Puppy Problem

by Katie Meyer

  Grateful for the change in subject, Megan put the car in Reverse and carefully backed out onto the street. “Errands. Nothing very exciting, I’m afraid. I’ve got to drop off a few things at the post office and we’ve got library books that need to be returned.” She told herself not to feel guilty. It had been his idea to observe how Lily and Owen interacted in everyday life. She just hadn’t realized how boring that life was until seeing it through someone else’s eyes.

  “Perfect.”

  “It is?” she blurted. Yeah, her people skills definitely needed work.

  “Yeah. I need to buy some stamps anyway, and I have some books on hold at the library, so I can pick them up while we are there.”

  “Oh. Okay.” So maybe her life wasn’t that abnormal, after all. Still, she had a hard time believing he didn’t have other, better ways to spend his time.

  Idling at one of Paradise’s few stoplights, she tried to give him one last out. “You’re sure I’m not keeping you from something? Because I’d understand if—”

  His hand on hers stopped her midsentence. She looked to where his fingers, so much larger than her own, rested on hers on the gearshift before his voice drew her eyes to his face. “Don’t.”

  “What? I was just...” Heck, what had she been about to say? The heat of his skin against hers had erased whatever point she’d planned to make. A horn blared and she yanked her hand away, missing the contact even as she accelerated under the now green light.

  “Doubting me. I told you not to.”

  “I wasn’t.” It wasn’t him she had doubts about. Her second-guessing had nothing to do with him and everything to do with her own insecurities. “I just—”

  “You’ve got to stop saying that.”

  “Saying what?”

  “‘I just.’” He’d mimicked her higher voice and grimaced. “Nothing good ever comes after that.”

  Megan opened her mouth to object but his narrow-eyed stare stopped her. “Fine,” she huffed. “It’s your weekend to waste.” She’d carved out a reasonably good life for herself and Owen, and she wasn’t going to let anyone make her feel badly about it.

  “Believe it or not, I’m enjoying myself just fine.”

  She rolled her eyes and turned into the tiny Paradise post office’s even tinier parking lot. Snagging a space near the front, she offered to leave the air running if he wanted to wait in the car.

  “No way,” he said with an easy grin. “Remember, I need stamps.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  Inside, Megan took her place in line, trying to mentally calculate how long each person ahead of her would take by packages they held. Owen wasn’t a big fan of lines and, honestly, neither was she. She kept telling herself she’d set up a business shipping account so she could do this from home, but pickup cost extra and it didn’t seem worth the money. At least, not until she was stuck in line behind a grandmother attempting to mail half a dozen packages, all unlabeled, to an equal number of places. Right now, shipping premiums seemed like an absolute bargain. At least Owen wasn’t whining about how long it was taking. Not that she would have blamed him.

  Glancing down to tell him as much, she realized that somewhere between the woman shipping individual bottles of essential oils—while describing the supposedly miraculous attributes of each in detail, loudly, and the forgetful granny still trying to figure out which package went to which grandchild—Owen had left her side.

  That was fine; it wasn’t as if he could get lost in a building not much bigger than the postage stamps Luke had come in for, and Lily knew to stay with him. Still, it wasn’t like him. More curious than concerned, she scanned the small, crowded space only to spot him in literally the last place she would have imagined.

  Owen, who barely spoke to anyone, who shied away from physical contact with other people, and who had a serious fear of heights, was six feet in the air, perched on Luke’s shoulders, and talking with one of the postal employees.

  Dying of curiosity, she gripped the thick manila envelope holding the contract for her newest and biggest project and wished she were close enough to hear what they were saying. The sight of her son gesturing animatedly while conversing with a complete stranger was more rewarding than any paycheck, but smiles and social breakthroughs wouldn’t pay the electric bill and she’d promised to put the paperwork in the mail today.

  So she stood and watched, and wondered what other surprises the weekend might hold.

  * * *

  Luke winced as little fingers fisted in his hair, but he didn’t say anything. He’d seen Owen grip Lily’s fur the same way to comfort himself, and if Lily could take it, so could he. Besides, he didn’t want to interrupt the conversation. Keeping his own hands firmly anchored around Owen’s ankles, Lily’s leash looped around one wrist, he listened as the six-year-old rattled off statistics about different species of shark to the delight of a postal employee named Greg.

  It seemed that stocking the shipping supplies was only Greg’s weekend job. During the week, as part of his graduate studies in marine biology, he researched sharks and rays, which explained why he knew so much about the migration patterns of blacktip sharks. But Owen sounded almost as knowledgeable and, as good as the academics were at All Saints, Luke knew darned well the kid hadn’t learned this stuff there.

  Luke’s own knowledge of sharks was limited to what he’d picked up from TV specials during Shark Week, so he just listened as terms like dermal denticles and ampullae of Lorenzini flew over his head, both figuratively and literally. When Owen had tugged at his hand and pointed up at a poster advertising an upcoming series of stamps depicting various aquatic life, Luke had assumed a childish curiosity and obligingly swept the kid up onto his shoulders to get a better view. Who knew he was dealing with a pint-size Jacques Cousteau?

  “Hey, guys. What’s going on?” Megan, apparently done with her business, appeared at his side.

  He greeted her quizzical smile with a self-deprecating grimace. “These two brainiacs are showing me up, that’s what’s happening.” He tipped his head at the poster. “Owen wanted to talk about the newest stamp collection. When I couldn’t hold up my end of the conversation, Greg here came to my rescue.”

  Megan’s brow creased in confusion, triggering a giggle from Owen. “Greg’s an ickyologist!”

  “Ichthyologist,” Greg corrected with a smile. “And not yet, but I’m working on it. I’m hoping to finish my doctoral research sometime next year.”

  “Ah!” Understanding eased the wrinkles between her eyes. “Talking sharks, huh?”

  “Shark is about the only word I did understand. The rest was way above my pay grade.”

  “Don’t feel bad,” Megan assured Luke, her eyes twinkling. “He surpassed my knowledge on the subject a while ago. Thankfully the library has a great marine science section and sets aside any new shark books for Owen when they come in.”

  Glancing at the clock on the wall, she sent her son a pointed look. “Speaking of which, if we’re going to get the new ones, we’d better get moving. They close early on the weekends.” She paused, and her smile softened as she turned to Greg. “Thank you for...” Her voice faltered and Luke saw her swallow hard before continuing. “For talking with him. Not everyone would have taken the time.”

  “Hey, I was happy to do it. He’s a great kid. You should bring him over to Harbor Branch sometime. We do tours, and if you call ahead, I’ll see if I can take him back into the lab.”

  Owen bounced in excitement at the offer, nearly unseating himself from his perch. Megan simply nodded, her eyes shining, and took down the young man’s contact information before leading the way to the car. Her pride in her son was obvious, shining brighter than the hot Florida sun beating down on the asphalt parking lot.

  “Does that kind of thing happen often?” Luke asked once they were back in the car and headed for the library.

 
; Megan glanced in the rearview mirror before answering, probably checking that Owen still had his headphones on and couldn’t overhear.

  “Almost never. In fact, I can’t remember the last time he voluntarily spoke to a stranger. When I saw what was happening, I couldn’t decide which was more shocking—him talking to someone he didn’t know, or doing it from so high up in the air! He’s afraid of heights,” Megan clarified, slowing for a crossing pedestrian. “But he seemed totally relaxed on your shoulders.”

  “Well, I don’t know about relaxed.” Luke rubbed his sore scalp ruefully. “He was holding on for dear life. But he definitely seemed content enough, once he had someone who could keep up with what he was saying. How did he learn all that anyway?”

  “Documentaries, books, the internet, museums... He’s pretty obsessed. It’s common for children with autism to have perseverations—special interests that they obsess about.”

  “Like dinosaurs or trains, or something?” Luke was pretty sure he’d read about that on one of the websites he’d looked at last night.

  “Right. For Owen, it’s sharks. Well, fish in general, but mostly sharks. You’d think in a coastal town, that would be socially acceptable, but he goes into too much detail for kids his age and they get frustrated.”

  “I can relate,” Luke chuckled.

  “Right. And adults don’t generally want to sit and talk about fish with a six-year-old. That leaves him—”

  “Lonely.” Luke had come face-to-face with the feeling himself since moving to Paradise, but he was a grown adult making a career choice, not a little kid seeking acceptance. How much harder must it be for Owen?

  “Yes. That’s one of the reasons I think it would be so good for him to have Lily at school. He might not always know how to interact with people, but Lily does. She could act as a bridge between him and the other kids in his class.”

  Luke shook his head at her bulldogged tenacity even as he respected her ability to turn the conversation back to her own agenda. Besides, she did have a point. Right now, Owen was the kid who was different. But with Lily at his side, he’d be the kid with the dog. Definitely a step up in social status. And Luke was the one who could make it happen.

  When Megan had first approached him with the idea, his only thought had been the liability. But now he could see how much was at stake. Not just Owen’s ability to fit into the classroom, but his entire social experience and how he interacted with others would be affected.

  Having Lily in the classroom really did seem to be the best way to help Owen. Although, Luke’s sense of professional ethics meant he had to be sure it was safe for everyone, and he felt it on his shoulders like a physical weight. He wanted to do what was right for his school, and for Owen, and, God help him, he wanted to do something to ease the worry he’d detected in Megan’s eyes.

  “I promise you, if Lily proves herself this weekend, I’ll be the first to welcome her to the school on Monday.”

  Megan nodded, her shoulders still stiff with the responsibility she seemed to always carry. His hand itched to reach out and rub some of that tension away, but he kept it fisted in his lap. Acting on the attraction he felt for her wasn’t an option. Still, he hated to think of her dealing with all of this on her own. Owen at least had Lily to comfort him.

  Who did Megan have?

  Chapter Five

  Megan wasn’t sure when her anxiety had started to dissipate, but somewhere, between the splash pad, the post office, and the library, her nervousness had faded away, leaving her normally tough outer shell as mushy as the soft-serve mochaccino ice cream Luke had insisted on buying her. Scooping up a spoonful of the icy-sweet stuff, she wondered absently if the sugar high was clouding her thinking, or if it was normal to feel this relaxed when so much was at stake.

  It certainly wasn’t normal for her, of that she was certain. Worry and doubt were her near constant companions, to the point that she felt somehow irresponsible just sitting back and enjoying the moment.

  Yet, there she was, sitting on slightly sticky bench, eating ice cream with a significantly sticky Owen, while Lily lounged at their feet and Luke, the man who could make or break her son’s educational future, fetched more napkins. And instead of freaking out, she was actually having a good time.

  And not in the “things could be worse” way, or the “that went as well as could be expected” way. More a real, honest-to-goodness “having a good time” way. She paused, spoon halfway to her mouth, and tried to remember the last time that had happened.

  “Is something wrong?” Luke’s deep voice startled her from her mental musing and she self-consciously shoved the melting ice cream into her mouth to delay answering. Of course, she’d forgotten how patient he could be. Rather than accept her nonanswer, he leaned against the tabletop and watched her, his eyes never leaving hers as he waited for her to speak.

  “No. I was just thinking.” Avoiding his gaze, Megan focused on searching out one of the chocolate chunks hidden in the espresso-flavored ice cream.

  “About what?”

  Patient and persistent. Part of her wanted to be annoyed at his scrutiny—the part that was used to focusing on her son, her job, anything other than herself. But some tiny part of the person she’d been before all that found his attention invigorating. It was nice having someone express even casual interest in her thoughts and opinions. Nice enough that she found herself answering more honestly than she’d meant to. “I was thinking about how great today has been.”

  As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized how ridiculous they sounded. Running errands and standing around sweating to death while kids shrieked wasn’t what most people would call a stellar day, ice-cream break notwithstanding. “Lame, I know.”

  Luke shook his head, shoved the last bite of his cone into his mouth, and swallowed. “Nah. Not lame. We’d all be happier if we took the time to appreciate the simpler things in life.”

  “Like running errands?” she challenged.

  “More like sunny days and ice cream.” He paused, his gaze lasering on her. “And friends.”

  “Friends.” She repeated the word, the taste of it far sweeter than the mochaccino still coating her tongue. It had been far too long since she’d had a friend.

  When she and Tim had first moved to Paradise, she’d gotten to know the other military wives. But those friendships had been too green, too new, to hold fast against the tsunami of grief when he died.

  Or maybe the fault had been hers. She’d retreated into herself, like an injured animal going to ground while its wounds healed. Then she’d become consumed by Owen and his needs. Between the demands of parenting and going to school, she hadn’t had time to think about friends, let alone to figure out how to make them.

  Maybe now it was time. Emboldened by the idea, and the sugar coursing through her veins, she felt confident enough to ask the question that had been on her mind since Luke had showed up on her doorstep this morning. “So, one friend to another, can you tell me what you think so far?”

  “About?”

  She nodded at Lily, lying at Owen’s feet, the remains of a doggy sundae between her paws. “Lily. The experiment. Everything.”

  “Ah, that.” He tilted his head as if considering.

  If she hadn’t been so worried about his answer, she’d have pointed out the gesture as a very canine thing to do.

  “Honestly...” Luke began, “I’d say it’s too soon to tell. She’s an amazing dog. I’ll give you that. And she’s handling the crowds better than some humans I know. But it’s only been a few hours, and we’re talking about having her in school all day, every day.”

  Megan’s heart sank. Logically, she could appreciate his answer, but she’d hoped for more. Still, it wasn’t a no. So she swallowed her disappointment along with the last bit of ice cream and pasted a smile on her face. “Okay. I understand.”

  “Go
od. Besides, if I said yes now, I wouldn’t get to spend the rest of the weekend with you.”

  * * *

  Luke had meant the words to be playful, but one look at Megan’s face told him he’d crossed a line with his remark. He’d wanted to reassure her, but somehow he’d ended up flirting instead. At least, that’s what he was guessing from the deer-in-the-headlights look she was giving him.

  His sun-fried brain tried to come up with a way to explain himself without digging in further, but he couldn’t think with her looking at him that way. She was shocked, obviously, at his accidental come-on, but the blush spreading up her cheeks had him wondering if his boundary crossing had been entirely unwelcome. Inappropriate, yes, but maybe not as upsetting as he’d initially thought.

  Not that it mattered. He was her son’s principal, and although his offer of friendship was genuine, it wouldn’t—couldn’t—go further than that. He had a job to do and could not afford to mess it up.

  “I mean if I go home now, I’ll have to spend the rest of the weekend doing paperwork and going over budgets. I hate budgets. Too many numbers.”

  “Oh, I see.” Megan lowered her head and wiped at some sprinkles sticking to the table. When she looked back up, any sign of embarrassment or confusion was gone. And so was the sparkle in her eyes.

  Damn. He’d really stepped in it. Once upon a time, he’d prided himself on his people skills, but his lack of a social life had obviously left him rusty when it came to chatting with a beautiful woman.

  And, man, was she beautiful. He’d thought she was sexy in the straitlaced clothes she wore to their meetings at the school, but Megan in a tank top and shorts, with all that tanned skin showing, was mesmerizing. It was no wonder his brain had skipped straight from friendly to flirting—not that it was his brain driving that particular mishap. He’d been fighting a battle between reason and libido since he’d showed up at her house, and his rational side had all but raised the white flag when she’d licked a bit of ice cream from her lower lip. He hadn’t stopped staring at her mouth since, wishing he was the one tasting her.