“I imagine it’s because you were kind to her.” Louisa fell into step beside him, her interest in the dog a welcome distraction from her acute reaction to Conor. “What’s her name?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it. I have a confession. I actually did take her to the pound this morning, but I couldn’t leave her there. She was terrified, and the place was already full of pit bulls.” Conor took her hand again. “Do you want to name her?”

This time Louisa barely hesitated before wrapping her fingers around his palm. “You’d let me name your dog?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Sure. Why not?”

“Seems like a big responsibility.”

“Let me put it in perspective. We had a dog named Sneezes once because my parents let Jaynie name him. She was three, and it was her turn to name a pet. I assure you that Sneezes didn’t care what we called her as long as we slipped her scraps of food under the dinner table. The dog was so fat, she waddled.”

Hearty laughter bubbled out of Louisa’s throat. The kind of laughter she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. “All right. I’ll try to do better than Sneezes.”

“You’re so serious most of the time. I like to hear you laugh.” Conor stopped walking. His gaze dropped to her mouth. He leaned closer. Did he want to kiss her? She licked her lips. A little heat in his eyes completely disarmed her, and holding his hand short-circuited her brain. What would the taste of his mouth do?

As much as Louisa wanted him to kiss her, she couldn’t stop the slight backward shift of her body weight.

He noticed. Suspicion narrowed his eyes as he straightened.

Oh no. She’d ruined it already.

“I’m sorry.” She squeezed her eyes shut for a second and breathed in and out. Opening her lids again, she forced herself to make eye contact, expecting to see irritation on his face, but his eyes held only concern. How could she explain she was afraid of the way she responded to him? “I need to take things slowly.”

He smiled. Was that relief in his expression?

“No worries. I’m a slow mover myself these days.” Turning, he continued down the sidewalk, his pace easy and unhurried.

These days? What did that mean?

They walked in companionable silence for a few minutes, crossing an intersection and skirting an elderly man playing a violin on the sidewalk. A tattered coat hung to his knees. Under a fedora, long gray hair fell in a curtain over the side of his face. Conor tossed a dollar into the open instrument case at the musician’s feet. When they reached the bar, he opened the door for her.