“There is.” I glance toward her neighbor’s house, but no one is outside at the moment. “If your neighbors see this big boy hanging out in your yard, do you think they’ll sneak into it to smear cheese on the side of your house?”
She glances at Hades. He looks back at her with an intelligent, intense gaze. “No, I do not,” she says, seeing my point. “Is he friendly?”
I nod. “You can pet him. Let him sniff your hand first.”
She walks over slowly, then smiles and extends her hand toward him. “Hello, Hades. I’m Gemma.”
He sniffs her hand, then licks it to let her know they’re good.
I feel the tension start to melt out of her, and he probably does, too.
“You must be thirsty,” she says, lightly petting his back. “I’ll go get him a bowl of water.”
While she runs back inside to get Hades a drink, I grab the blanket and insulated tote I brought with me. I walk Hades over to the yard and command him to lie down and stay put. He watches curiously as I unfold the blanket on the lawn, then start to unpack the cured meats, fruit, and different cheeses.
Gemma comes back out with a mixing bowl full of water for Hades. She puts it down beside him, then grins over at me. “A picnic? I love picnics.”
“I am not surprised to hear this,” I say, grabbing the chilled champagne out of the side that’s packed with ice.
Gemma grins as she sits down on the side of the blanket nearest Hades. I packed extra cheese since I knew we would have him. I grab a cube and hand it to Gemma. “It’s his favorite treat. Let’s get you some brownie points.”
She puts the cheese cube down by his paw. He eyes it, then leans down and eats it.
“He’s a big boy,” she says. “He’ll probably need more than one cube.”
“He’ll get more in a bit.” I grab a plate for myself and pass one to her. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I brought a bit of everything.”
“I see that.” She eyes the spread. “I love all of it. Except the olives. Olives are gross.”
“There’s a restaurant in Paris that might change your mind,” I tell her, scooping up a few olives for myself. “They bring out olives to snack on with your drink before the meal, and I don't know what they do to those olives, but they're incredible."
"You've been to Paris?" she asks, wide-eyed.
I nod, knowing the answer before I ask, but I ask anyway. "Have you?"
She shakes her head, smiling. "No. I might be willing to try olives in Paris, but I don't think I'll ever get the chance to go there."
"Would you like to?"
"Oh, yes. Very much."
"Who knows? One day, you might get your chance," I say, the words out before I can think them through. I shouldn’t say things like that and make her think I mean with me.
Don’t I, though?
Of course not. That’s absurd. I haven’t traveled with a woman romantically since Sally died.
Gemma looks at me, then drops her gaze to her plate. "Maybe," she says, but she doesn’t sound convinced.
I pop open the champagne, startling Hades. Gemma instinctively reaches over and puts a calming hand on his back. He looks over at her, then rests his head back on his paws and lets her pet him.
Gemma thanks me as I pass her a glass. I take a sip from mine, then ask, “So, you’ve never been married?”
I already know she hasn’t. I did a background check on her. But there are certain things you admit, and certain things you don’t. It’s better for her to think I’ve gleaned most of the information I have on her because she’s shared it with me, not because I have a tendency to disregard privacy and be rather invasive.
She shakes her head. “Parker’s father and I were engaged, but we couldn’t afford a wedding. Thankfully,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Marrying him would have been a terrible decision, but I was a teenager, and I didn’t know anything.”
My lips tug up. “Who does when they’re a teenager?”