“I’ve been afraid to tell Jude how I feel,” Emmy says.
I nod. “Same here.”
“All right. We have a problem. I wonder if we can work together to solve it.”
When our friends move on, we follow. We’re almost to the tiger exhibit now. A metal structure that marks the edge of the enclosure has the words Are you being watched? on it, which draws my eyes up to a ramp above it. A tiger lies there over our heads.
“Whoa, look.” I show Emmy. The striking beast looks around for a second, then lays on its side, reminding me of Bean.
The tiger habitat is circular with ramps and steps attached to the fencing for the three tigers inside to climb to the second level and move around above the visitors. A good-sized area in the middle has toys, rocks and tree trunks lying on their sides, upright climbing poles, and pools of water for the three tigers to cool off in.
Emmy sips her beer, then asks, “Is Stevie interested in Jude?”
We glance at our friends. They’ve made their way to the front of the enclosure standing shoulder to shoulder again. They watch as a second tiger leaps easily from one step along the fence to the next until it’s also on the second level ramp. The third tiger sniffs one of the thick wooden poles, which has a ball hanging off a hook near the top.
I exhale, letting my eyes close for a second. “Most of the time, I’m not sure what Stevie wants. I’m not sure Stevie knows what she wants. But . . . she has seemed jazzed about Jude lately. And I also get the sense she wants to pair us up for some reason. But the question is: what should we do about it?”
“Well, what we should do is talk to them. Tell them how we feel.”
I shake my head. “I know Stevie. That would scare her away. It’s too direct.”
Emmy sighs. “I don’t think Jude’s ready to hear this from me yet, either. All right, then we’ll have to get more creative. We’ll talk. Come up with a plan. Okay, partner?”
“Okay.” On a whim, I hold out my hand, and Emmy takes it. We don’t exactly shake, more like squeeze.
Stevie turns to look for us. She sees Emmy and me sort of holding hands, and her face goes through a weird transition. First, a little shocked, then resigned, then she smiles. After a second, Jude looks back too.
I let go of Emmy’s hand and lower my voice. “They’re watching us.”
She laughs and leans in closer. “Good. Let them wonder about us. But we’ll get them to see the truth—that we’re the ones for them.”
“I hope you’re right.”
And maybe she is. Maybe this could work. Maybe, together, Emmy and I can convince Stevie and Jude they’ve been sniffing up the wrong trees all these years.
But as I watch the third tiger claw into the hunk of raw meat, I know it’s equally as possible we’ll make a giant hash of this and our friends won’t ever speak to us again.
But if that happens, so be it. Something has to give with Stevie and me.
If Emmy and I can help each other, it’s worth a shot.
Chapter Thirteen
Stevie
“This show is getting more ridiculous by the episode,” I pronounce before carefully setting a glass of lemon water on the coffee table and flopping onto the couch.
As part of my Get-My-Crap-Together-Before-I’m-30 efforts, I’ve been trying to drink less wine and more water. It’s working . . . some days.
Bean lies on her side on her dog bed. She shifts in her sleep, woofing a little, probably dreaming of chasing chickens again. Or discs now, I hope.
Logan nods from his spot on the other side of the couch, but I can tell he hasn’t been listening or even properly paying attention to the show for the last half hour. I decide to test my theory.
Keeping my voice casual, I add, “I mean, that circus freak going berserk and stomping all over the evidence at the crime scene before saddling that rhino and riding it away was a stupid plot point, right?”
He nods again. “Huh? Yeah, yeah it was.”
Like I thought. Totally not paying attention. We’re watching a comedy with no circus freaks, rhinos, or even crime scenes in sight.
“Who are you texting over there?” I crane my head that way.
His phone drops into his lap in a hurry, screen down, and his cheek muscle twitches. “Emmy.”
My heart spasms uncomfortably, which is weird because this is good news. News I’ve been waiting for.
“She was saying she had a good time at the zoo,” Logan says after a minute. “Who knew adult night would be fun?”
“I did,” I say a little peevishly.
“That’s true. And it was a great idea.” He smiles at me, and my heart thumps strangely again.
Logan’s smile is perfect. Not only is it straight and white—that’s clean living for you, he’d say whenever someone commented on it—but he has faint dimples that show when he gives you a real smile. I used to tease him about them, but secretly, I’ve always loved them.
Emmy probably loves his dimples, too. And I’m sure he loves everything about her. She’s beautifully designed with her petite frame, long, shiny hair, and soulful eyes. And she’s sweet and kind and a good friend to Jude. She’s a patient trainer of dogs and humans alike, and she seems to like Logan, which shows her good judgment.
They’re becoming friends, maybe even more, given the hand she put on his chest at the zoo. Which is what I was hoping would happen when I planned the zoo trip.
Sooo . . . why am I not happier about it? Bean conveniently wakes herself with a loud fart right at that moment, reminding me that she needs to go out. “C’mon, girl, time for bed.”
Logan checks his watch. “Bed? So early?”
“Yep. It’s time to tackle number four on my bucket list.”
“Maintain a healthy work-life balance?”
I sigh. It’s sad that Logan knows that thing as well as I do. “I’ve been trying to go to bed at the same time every night and wake up at the same time every morning. And no working past midnight.”
He nods. “That’s a good start.”
If you can stick to it, his careful expression seems to say. I can stick to it. I’ll show him. No, I’ll show myself. This is about me, after all. Making good choices for myself and doing things I’ve always wanted to do.
I stand. “Want to jog tomorrow after work? We can check on the graylag and see if his mate is back. Or her mate. The mate.”
Logan fidgets with his phone. “Oh sorry . . . I can’t tomorrow. Emmy and I are meeting for a drink.”
“Oh. Oh, well, okay. Bean, looks like it’s you and me on goose patrol, girl.”
She hops off the couch, tail wagging. I can always count on her. What am I saying? I can always count on Logan, too. Always. He’s had girlfriends before, and we’ve stayed best friends. Why would Emmy be any different?
“Well, good night.” Spontaneously, I lean down to hug him.
Logan stiffens. Hugs are not our normal nighttime routine, but he doesn’t pull away. In fact, after a slight hesitation, he pulls me into his body. Heat flashes between us.
When I say heat, I mean flames rush from my knees, up my inner thighs, and into my stomach. The sensation singes my lungs and licks my throat. I might as well have fallen into a burning ring of fire like Johnny Cash. Or a pool of molten lava. Or something equally hot but a lot more pleasant.