Someone had to have repeated the story today. Had he mentioned the picnic table? He told Daniel, right? Maybe his mother? All the conversations blurred, and he couldn’t remember if he ever used the words picnic table. But he knew one thing—this dog was upset.
Reaching down, he wrapped Clem in his arms and lifted her as he stood. “Let’s take her down to the pond here. She can run around and forget her past.”
“She’s not going to forget it easily,” Ayla said, pushing up to a stand.
Clementine clung to him for dear life, quivering in his arms the way she had when that woman first left her in the mini-mart bathroom. The way she had at the sound of Human Vermin’s voice. The way she had—
He froze as the trees opened to a huge clearing where, in the middle, sat a picnic table that he hadn’t known was even there. The family must have added it recently, based on how bright and unfaded the wood was.
“Look at that,” Ayla whispered. “That’s what she saw.”
“In her head? That’s what you saw?” Or had Ayla come down here earlier and seen the table then?
“No.” She reached over to give Clementine a comforting stroke. “When she got to the clearing, she saw it and had a flashback.”
A flashback? But she was freaked out, he couldn’t deny that. “Poor dog. I feel like she took ten steps backwards after a great day.”
“Let’s give her a new memory,” she said quickly, putting her hand on Theo’s shoulder to usher him closer to the table. “You hold her, because you’re her source of complete comfort. And we’ll sit at that table and love her and love her, and…oh, I wish we had treats.”
“They’re in my pocket. I never let this dog go ten minutes without food.”
Her whole face brightened. “Did you hear that, Clem? Treat. Treats at the table. Come on.”
She ran ahead, beckoning him to come faster. So he jogged to the table, the whole time crooning in Clem’s ear to calm her down.
“Put her on the table, but don’t stop touching her. Keep your hands on her all the time. Touch and stroke and love her.”
He did, trying to ignore how provocative the words were. For God’s sake, she was talking about the dog.
“Talk to her,” she insisted. “Keep talking. It doesn’t matter what you say. Fill her head with your voice and give her treats.”
He did, saying nonsense, but keeping his voice low and calm while he stroked her back and let her eat the tiny cookies from his hand, then he managed to turn her over and rubbed her quivering belly.
“Let her hear your voice, Theo. Keep soothing her. It’s working. It’s working.”
She certainly was calming down. The shaking stopped, and she welcomed the belly rub like any normal dog. Finally, after a few minutes, she turned over, shook off, and released an enormous sigh, sprawled on the top of the table.
Theo and Ayla sat side by side on one of the benches, both of them letting out their own sighs, like they were sharing simultaneous adrenaline dumps.
After a second, he turned to her. “Who told you she’d been chained to a picnic table?”
Her eyes shuttered closed as if she were a little sick of his doubt. “Clementine told me. It’s the truth, whether you want to believe it or not.”
He didn’t want to, but part of him…did. Damn it.
“So now what?” he asked. “Will she be triggered every time she sees a picnic table for the rest of her life?”
“I don’t know, but my guess is that this one can help her learn that they’re not all bad.” She ran her hand over Clem’s back. “Let’s stay here for a while and let her learn that this is a nice and happy place. Maybe we need to find as many picnic tables as possible and change her whole perception of them.”
He held her gaze for a long moment, studying every freckle and the slope of her cheekbones and the depth of her dark brown eyes. There was something about her, something that went deeper than being a pretty woman, which she obviously was. Or a wacky psychic, which she obviously…said she was.
“So,” he said, trying to step back and remember what they’d been talking about before Clem freaked out. “What were you going to tell me about the grannies?”
“They’re matchmaking us. They’re trying to get us together. Like, ‘hitched and happy,’ I believe was the expression I heard.”
“That’s…” Not the worst idea I’ve ever heard. “Insane,” he finished.
“Right?”
“Like…they think we like each other?” he asked.
“Seriously. You, the engineering skeptic.”
“And you, the gorgeous psychic.” He made a face. “Whoops. Did I say that?”
She angled her head and looked at him, a tease in her eyes. “Yes, you did.”
“I meant animal communicator.” He winked at her. “Those crazy grannies.”
“They are nuts,” she agreed. “I’m literally twenty-four hours out of a relationship so serious…”
“I’m six days from one.”
She lifted her left hand. “I still have a tan line from the engagement ring.”
“And I still have the ring that I was supposed to be giving her in a few weeks.”
She winced. “Ouch. What happened?”
“She fell in love with her next-door neighbor. You?”
“He slept with one of my best friends. After the rehearsal dinner.”
“Oof.” He punched his heart with a fake dagger. “Okay, you win.”
She gave a humorless laugh. “Didn’t feel like winning when I ran out of the church yesterday and Marie poured my sobbing backside into her truck and brought me here.”
Holy hell. “A runaway bride?”
She nodded slowly. “Only one notch below a pet psychic.”
He couldn’t help it, he laughed softly. “Way to pick ’em, Yiayia.”
“So…what do we tell the Dogmothers?” she asked.
For a long time, he looked at her, vaguely aware he was dipping his head closer and closer. A couple more inches and…they’d kiss. He knew he should back away, change the subject, or break the eye contact. But he didn’t do any of those things.
“I don’t know,” he said. “You have any ideas?”
“Ella said there are only three choices—run, fake, or fold.”
That made him laugh. “Well, I’m not running until I get a job. Then I’m out.”
“And I’m not folding twenty-four hours after I left my fiancé at the altar.” She let her gaze drop over his face for a quick second. “No, definitely not…folding.”
“Then I guess we fake,” he said, poking her shoulder with a teasing finger. “Know anything about that?”
She rolled her eyes. “Fake what? We tell them we’re still involved with our exes, or lie and say we’ve both already met someone else?”
“No, that won’t work with this family all up in my business.” He felt his mouth lift in a slow smile. “Let the old ladies think they struck gold.”
Her jaw dropped. “Pretend we like each other?”