Bryte home.” He turned on his heel and strode away with Bryte prancing to keep up.
A larm flashed in Marcie ’ s face . “You can’t do that!” She ran after him. “Stop right there! That’s not our agreement!”
I blew out a long, slow breath and turned to look at Miles. I felt as though I should
apologize on behalf of the AKC—he was, after all, a guest of the sport—but I honestly
didn’t know what to say. He said it for me.
“Roller derby,” he repeated. He squeezed my shoulder and added, “Do me a favor and
stay out of that guy’s way, okay? I don’t like the way his eyes were spinning around
in his head.”
I shrugged uneasily. “Some people get a little carried away when it comes to their
dogs.”
He pretended surprise. “You don’t say.” Then he winked and tugged my ponytail. “Okay,
I’m outta here. Text me your score.”
“Time,” I corrected him. “In agility, it’s time.”
“Right.”
I couldn’t help smiling as I tiptoed to brush a kiss across his lips. “Thanks for
coming, Miles,” I said, because, as my mother always said, you should never fail to
reward the effort. “That was nice of you. It showed real character.”
“Hey, I’m all about character.” His eyes danced with amusement and he cupped my neck
lightly as he turned to go. “Run fast.” His phone rang and he took it out, glancing
at the screen. “Love you, babe,” he said, and blew me a kiss just before he punched
a button and said into the phone, “Yeah, I’m on my way.”
I just stood there in silent astonishment, watching him walk away.
~*~
SEVEN
Nineteen hours before the shooting
F or the longest time after Miles left, I continued to stare after him , thinking, Oh no, he didn’t . He did not just use the L word for the first time twenty minutes before I had to
psych myself up for a run and he did not just walk away without giving me a chance
to say anything in return. Was he kidding me? Seriously?
On the other hand, what would I have said? Our relationship was casual. I liked it
that way. What was he thinking?
That was just it. He wasn’t thinking. Men rarely are.
By the time I finished walking Cisco and took him over the warm-up jump a couple of
times, I’d decided I was making much ado about nothing. Miles hadn’t meant anything.
He probably even didn’t remember saying it. Men were such idiots. As I walked the
jumpers-with-weaves course with the rest of my group, trying to memorize a complicated
S-turn and wondering if I could do a blind cross coming into the second set of weave
poles, I started to wonder what kind of man could just toss off “I love yous” so easily.
How did you even get into that habit? On the other hand, wasn’t it better to be too
free with the words than afraid to say them at all? Or was it?
Standing in line waiting our turn, I came to the conclusion that I was the one who
was the idiot and really, I needed to just let it go. Like my mother always said,
the only thing more futile than trying to figure out why men did the things they did
was trying to figure out what they were thinking when they did them. So I decided
to just forget about it.
Unfortunately, in the process, I also forgot the S-turn and the blind cross, sent
Cisco into the weave poles backwards, and called him off a jump so abruptly that he
knocked the bar. Worse, I’m pretty sure the judge heard me say a bad word in the heat
of the moment. No one likes to lose, and the only thing that made it bearable was
the way Cisco bounced across the finish line with his tail waving and a big grin on
his face, as happy to have blown the course as he’d been to win only a few hours ago.
I couldn’t help but laugh. There’s a saying in this game: no matter what happens,
you still get to go home with the best dog in the world. And so I did.
Home, for the duration, was the Pembroke Host Inn five miles down the
A larm flashed in Marcie ’ s face . “You can’t do that!” She ran after him. “Stop right there! That’s not our agreement!”
I blew out a long, slow breath and turned to look at Miles. I felt as though I should
apologize on behalf of the AKC—he was, after all, a guest of the sport—but I honestly
didn’t know what to say. He said it for me.
“Roller derby,” he repeated. He squeezed my shoulder and added, “Do me a favor and
stay out of that guy’s way, okay? I don’t like the way his eyes were spinning around
in his head.”
I shrugged uneasily. “Some people get a little carried away when it comes to their
dogs.”
He pretended surprise. “You don’t say.” Then he winked and tugged my ponytail. “Okay,
I’m outta here. Text me your score.”
“Time,” I corrected him. “In agility, it’s time.”
“Right.”
I couldn’t help smiling as I tiptoed to brush a kiss across his lips. “Thanks for
coming, Miles,” I said, because, as my mother always said, you should never fail to
reward the effort. “That was nice of you. It showed real character.”
“Hey, I’m all about character.” His eyes danced with amusement and he cupped my neck
lightly as he turned to go. “Run fast.” His phone rang and he took it out, glancing
at the screen. “Love you, babe,” he said, and blew me a kiss just before he punched
a button and said into the phone, “Yeah, I’m on my way.”
I just stood there in silent astonishment, watching him walk away.
~*~
SEVEN
Nineteen hours before the shooting
F or the longest time after Miles left, I continued to stare after him , thinking, Oh no, he didn’t . He did not just use the L word for the first time twenty minutes before I had to
psych myself up for a run and he did not just walk away without giving me a chance
to say anything in return. Was he kidding me? Seriously?
On the other hand, what would I have said? Our relationship was casual. I liked it
that way. What was he thinking?
That was just it. He wasn’t thinking. Men rarely are.
By the time I finished walking Cisco and took him over the warm-up jump a couple of
times, I’d decided I was making much ado about nothing. Miles hadn’t meant anything.
He probably even didn’t remember saying it. Men were such idiots. As I walked the
jumpers-with-weaves course with the rest of my group, trying to memorize a complicated
S-turn and wondering if I could do a blind cross coming into the second set of weave
poles, I started to wonder what kind of man could just toss off “I love yous” so easily.
How did you even get into that habit? On the other hand, wasn’t it better to be too
free with the words than afraid to say them at all? Or was it?
Standing in line waiting our turn, I came to the conclusion that I was the one who
was the idiot and really, I needed to just let it go. Like my mother always said,
the only thing more futile than trying to figure out why men did the things they did
was trying to figure out what they were thinking when they did them. So I decided
to just forget about it.
Unfortunately, in the process, I also forgot the S-turn and the blind cross, sent
Cisco into the weave poles backwards, and called him off a jump so abruptly that he
knocked the bar. Worse, I’m pretty sure the judge heard me say a bad word in the heat
of the moment. No one likes to lose, and the only thing that made it bearable was
the way Cisco bounced across the finish line with his tail waving and a big grin on
his face, as happy to have blown the course as he’d been to win only a few hours ago.
I couldn’t help but laugh. There’s a saying in this game: no matter what happens,
you still get to go home with the best dog in the world. And so I did.
Home, for the duration, was the Pembroke Host Inn five miles down the
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