OCR Text |
Show 172 in her hands. Running her fingers through it. Another group occupied the corner booth before it was cleared, and after noting them-again they were business men in suits and ties- Steve turned back to her. "Do you have a dog?" she asked. Curious, he cocked his head. "Why? My parents do." "What kind?" "A boxer. Bing. That's his name-Bing. He's a big boxer. Why?" "Oh, I was just remembering a dog. From when I was a kid. He was the neighbor's, the nicest dog. A Golden Retriever. I haven't thought of him in years." "Why now?" "Oh, I don't know." She laughed to cover her embarrassment. "No reason, really. Just one of those things." He waited a moment, but she didn't explain. Secretly, she studied him-his skin seemed to glow, the stiff blond hairs on his arm, his wrist, catching the light as he sipped his water. "Bing's a watch dog," he said setting the glass down. "Is he mean?" "No. But then he's not a kid's dog. We haven't had him long, only a year or so." "Your first dog?" "Yeah. I always wanted one when I was a kid. Then, when I was in high school, we got this one. I'm the youngest, he's never been around kids." |