Free More, Please by Kate Aster Page A

but I was
expecting that. And Hannah seems pretty content petting him for five minutes in
between each throw.
    “Your niece is precious, Logan.”
    “She is. Can’t say I had anything to do
with it, but yes, she is.”
    “Does she visit you often?”
    “Whenever I can convince her dad to let
her come over. Ryan’s divorced, and only gets her on the weekends. So he has a
pretty rough time parting with her. But we all get together at my parents’
house a couple Sundays a month for dinner. Kosmo will love it there. Lots of
table scraps.” I glance at Allie briefly as we sit on the back step of the
porch. “So what got you into the dog rescue business?”
    “My dad—” she begins, then
hesitates, seeming to change direction. “When I graduated from college last
year, I went to the pound to get a dog and found out it was a high-kill shelter
just because there weren’t enough people adopting dogs. So I decided to foster,
rather than adopt. I got a few other people to do it with me, and the rest is
history, I guess.”
    She sends me a meek smile, and I’m trying
to register what she just said. Something about fostering and a high-kill
shelter. But my head is still reeling from the words, “When I graduated from
college last year…”
    “You just graduated last year?” I can’t
help myself.
    She nods.
    Shit . “So you’re 23?”
    “24, actually. I skipped a semester
when—”
    Again, she cuts herself off. I think I’ve
never met a woman who liked talking about herself less.
    “—I needed a break,” she finishes
evasively.
    Holy crap . “You look…” I catch myself before
saying it, thank God, because no woman wants to be told she looks a lot older.
    “Older,” she finishes for me. She nods. “Yeah,
I know. I get that a lot.”
    I’m still trying to wrap my head around
the fact that I nearly picked up a kid practically fresh out of college in a
bar. Seriously, after my last catastrophe, that’s not my style. 24 is way too
young for a cynical former Navy SEAL with more baggage than a 757 bound for
Miami during Spring Break.
    “So…” I pull my eyes from hers, keeping
my hormones in check. 24, I remind myself. I go for women closer to my age. The
kind with issues. That way I won’t look like such a hot mess by comparison. “Your
sales job must not make you travel much, then.”
    She stares at me, looking slightly
baffled.
    “Sales. You had told me you were in
sales.”
    “Oh, yeah. That’s actually why I love my
job. I never have to drive further than an hour or so. And I get to be home a
lot.”
    “What do you sell?”
    She nearly chokes on the soda she is
sipping as she looks at me, wide-eyed. Her cheeks blush as my niece heads in
our direction with a wet dog toy in her hand.
    “Um—it’s probably a little too
graphic for present company, if you know what I mean,” she mumbles vaguely as
Hannah closes in, with Kosmo only inches behind.
    I nod, guessing it’s some kind of medical
equipment like catheters or scalpels, and too gory to be described in front of
a seven-year-old. There are a few companies based outside of Dayton like that
and, outside of JLS Heartland, they tend to be the bigger employers.
    “And that’s just a side job,” she
continues. “My main job is working for a small nonprofit.”
    “Dog-related?”
    She laughs. “Not really. It’s actually an
organization that promotes the vegan lifestyle.”
    I pause, taking in this information. “But
you’re not—”
    “Vegan? No. I tried it for a few days
once and failed miserably.”
    I sigh, relieved that I’m not taking her
down the dark path by ordering General Tso’s chicken for her tonight. “I was
going to say, I’m pretty sure you ate a steak at the hotel restaurant.”
    “Best steak I’ve had in a long while.”
    She must not get out much, because the
steaks there are way below par. If she weren’t so young, I’d invite her to a
place I know in Dayton that serves a really good steak.
    But she is young, I