Into You Series: The Complete Collection

21. Grace

CHAPTER 21

GRACE

I pick up a tennis ball and toss it over the line of desks beside me.

Buddy shoots off, tripping over himself to get it. Hank looks up, sees that getting there first would be an impossibility, and goes back to sleep.

“I can’t imagine a life where a dog doesn’t almost kill himself trying to get a tennis ball,” Cameron says, bending down to pet Hank, whose tail softly wags behind him.

“Hank is old,” I answer.

It feels like Cameron is attempting to walk on eggshells.

Yesterday, I made a comment that was way too bold and inappropriate. For someone who says I really want to keep my position at this company, I’m doing a bang-up job maintaining that. But, if he’s just laughing and I’m not fired yet, have I really done anything too wrong?

My flirting game is totally off. Not that I should be having game anyway.

Socks? Bet you look good in them and only them.

Yeah, I’m a real pro at flirting.

So far, this evening has had significantly less flirting which is probably for the best.

“Hank was my graduation gift from high school,” I say. “I demanded some type of responsibility because I wanted to feel like an adult.”

“Demanded?” Cameron chuckles.

“Oh yes, I demanded it,” I say. “I was a snotty teen.”

“You’re still snotty.” He smiles and it’s that wonderful, mysterious half-smile that deepens a single dimple.

Is he admiring? Is he judging? Do I even care which one it is?

“Anyway,” I press on with a drawl added in for emphasis. “Hank has been with me through everything. When I moved out of my parent’s house, when I went to college, when I moved in with Joe, and now here. He’s a trooper.”

Cameron nods in understanding but says nothing. I wonder if the mention of Joe bothers him.

No, I’m definitely giving myself too much credit. He couldn’t care less about my ex.

“How long have you had Buddy?” I ask right when a flash of golden fur turns the corner and runs straight for us. Cameron’s dog screeches to a halt, nails scratching the concrete beneath him, and he drops the slobbery ball right at my feet. He sits, paws trembling with anticipation until I throw it again. Off he dashes to find it once more.

“About five years,” Cameron says, laughing.

Buddy attempts to roll the ball toward himself with one paw, but it instead shoots past him with the same amount of excitability he put into retrieving it.

“He never really grew up,” Cameron says, clearing his throat before continuing. “I got him right before Abby and I started dating.”

“Oh, Abby … Your ex?” I say as casually as I can, but it still ends up sounding so forced and nosy I wonder why I tried to hide that it was. I want to stop the words right when I say them, but there’s not much I can do at this point.

“Ha, yeah,” he says. “She was something else. Never really liked Buddy. One time she bought a brand-new coat—I’m talking high-class stuff. I don’t even know the name of the brand and I don’t even think I could pronounce it if I did. But she brings it home because she didn’t trust leaving it in the car. And it’s got this limited edition, fancy tag that said ‘finely stitched’ with whatever other key words they could throw on there. So, we drop it off at the house and then we head out for lunch”—he pauses and chokes out a laugh—“and we get back, and this damn dog has ripped the coat to pieces except for the words ‘fine tit’ leftover on the tag.”

I burst out into laughter.

Cameron laughs too, trying to continue the story but unable to get the words out. “He”—laugh—“he’s just sitting”—laugh—“there with the biggest grin on his little face.”

As if on cue, Buddy returns and lets the ball drop out of his mouth, his tongue lolling out like he’s waiting to receive praise for the world’s most impressive trick.

“You amazing idiot,” he says, ruffling the fur on top of Buddy’s head and tossing the ball once more.

There’s something about a man and his dog that really gets me. It’s the way he still loves Buddy even after he destroyed something that must have cost Abby more than a month’s pay—well, at least for my paygrade. It’s the way he gets up, runs across the room, and starts playing with the dog. It’s the way he hugs Buddy, then looks up and smiles at me, like he wants me to know that even with all of Buddy’s faults, he’s still the best dog in the world.

My heart is melting, and I really wish it would stop.