The Choice - Nicholas Sparks [30]
Having reached clarity on the issue, she decided it didn’t matter whether Travis was flirting. He could flirt all he wanted; in the end, she knew exactly what she wanted in her life. She was sure of it.
Just as Travis had promised, Molly was better than Gabby had hoped. Her tail thumped with enthusiasm, and despite the presence of her puppies—most of which were sleeping and resembled furry little balls—she got up without a struggle when Gabby entered and trotted toward her before applying a few sloppy licks. Molly’s nose was cold, and she wiggled and whined as she circled Gabby, not with her usual abandon, but enough to let Gabby know she was fine, and then sat beside Gabby.
“I’m so glad you’re better,” Gabby whispered, stroking her fur.
“I am, too,” Travis’s voice echoed behind her from the doorway. “She’s a real trouper, and she’s got a wonderful disposition.”
Gabby turned around and saw him leaning against the door.
“I think I was wrong,” he said, walking toward her, holding a Fuji apple. “She could probably go home tonight, if you want to pick her up after work. I’m not saying you have to. I’d be happy to keep her here if you’d be more comfortable with it. But Molly’s doing even better than I predicted.” He squatted and lightly snapped his fingers, turning his attention away from Gabby. “Aren’t you a good girl,” he said, using what can best be described as an “I love dogs and won’t you come to me?” kind of voice. Surprising her, Molly left Gabby’s side to go to him, where he took over the petting and whispering, leaving Gabby feeling like an outsider.
“And these little guys are doing great, too,” he went on. “If you do bring them home, make sure you put together some sort of pen to keep them contained. Otherwise, it can get kind of messy. It doesn’t have to be fancy—just prop a few boards against some boxes—and make sure to line it with newspaper.”
She barely heard him as, despite herself, she noted again how good-looking he was. It annoyed her that she couldn’t get past that every time she saw him. It was as if his appearance constantly set off alarm bells in her, and for the life of her, she didn’t know why. He was tall and lean, but she’d seen lots of guys like that. He smiled a lot, but that wasn’t unusual. His teeth were almost too white—he was a definite bleacher, she decided— but even if she knew the color wasn’t natural, it still had an effect. He was fit, too, but guys like that could be found in every gym in America—guys who worked out religiously, guys who never ate anything but chicken breasts and oatmeal, guys who ran ten miles a day—and none of them had ever had the same effect on her.
So what was it about him?
It would have been so much easier had he been ugly. Everything from their initial confrontation to her present discomfort would have been different, simply because she wouldn’t have felt so off-kilter. But that was done now, she resolved. She wouldn’t be taken in anymore. Nosiree. Not this gal. She’d finish up here, wave to him in a neighborly way in the future, and get back to living her life without distraction.
“You okay?” he said, scrutinizing her. “You seem distracted.”
“Just tired,” she lied. She motioned to Molly. “I guess she’s taken a liking to you.”
“Oh yeah,” he said. “We’ve been getting along great. I think it was the jerky treats I gave her this morning. Jerky treats are the way to a dog’s heart. That’s what I tell all the FedEx and UPS guys when they ask what to do about dogs that dislike them.”
“I’ll remember that,” she said, quickly regaining composure.
When one of the puppies began to whine, Molly stood up and returned to the open cage, the presence of Travis and Gabby suddenly extraneous. Travis stood and polished the apple on his jeans. “So what do you think?” he asked.
“About what?”
“About Molly.”
“What about