Page 20 of Sawyer

I smiled at that, feeling a connection growing between us.

“Maybe that’s why Benny likes you so much. He’s good at reading people,” I said.

“Maybe,” Casey said with a shy smile.

I felt that strange spark again, the same one I’d felt when our fingers had touched the other day.

As we walked side by side through Pecan Park, Benny trotted ahead, his little legs moving in quick bursts of energy.

We chatted about everything and nothing. It felt natural, easy, like we’d known each other for longer than just a couple of days.

I realized I hadn’t thought about my leg, my responsibilities, or anything else that usually weighed on my mind.

I’d just been enjoying the moment.

“So, have you always liked dogs?” I asked after a while.

I was trying to keep the conversation light while inwardly cursing myself for how nervous I’d felt. This wasn’t like me at all.

Casey nodded, and I couldn’t help but notice how his dark curls caught the light just right, making them seem almost too perfect.

“Yeah, pretty much. My parents had dogs when I was growing up, so I’ve always been around them. But it wasn’t until I started volunteering at the shelter that I really fell in love with them,” Casey answered.

I nodded, though my focus was more on his smile than his words.

It wasn’t just any smile—there was something about it that felt warm, genuine.

The kind that made you feel like you were the only person in the world when he looked at you.

And then there was that scent of his—coffee with a hint of cinnamon.

It was so good, so comforting, that I had to resist the urge to lean in closer, to lose myself in it.

A sudden bark from Benny snapped us both out of the moment, and I looked down to see my little dachshund nose-deep in a particularly interesting patch of grass.

“I think Benny’s found something,” Casey said, his voice laced with amusement.

“Probably just another dog’s scent,” I replied, but I couldn’t help but smile at how animated Benny was.

He was really growing on me.

We walked a bit more before reaching a small café on the edge of the park. It had outdoor seating—perfect for bringing Benny along.

“How about we grab a coffee?” I suggested, trying to keep the conversation going.

Casey’s eyes lit up, and I felt a small thrill of victory.

“I’d love that,” Casey answered.

We found a table outside, and I tied Benny’s leash to the leg of a chair, giving him enough room to explore but keeping him close.

After we placed our orders—me with a black coffee and Casey with a caramel latte—we settled in, and the conversation flowed as easily as the coffee.

“What about you?” Casey asked, leaning forward slightly. “What do you do?”

“I work at a bar in the evenings. It’s owned by a friend of mine, Griffin. And during the day, I help out at my brother’s bookstore. It’s a small place, but it’s cozy,” I answered.

“A bookstore? That sounds amazing,” Casey said, his eyes sparking with genuine interest. “I love reading, but I don’t get to do it as much as I’d like.”