She arched her brows, amused. “What does that mean?”

“It means you look like a vegan.”

“What does a vegan look like?”

“A flower child.”

“You think I look like a flower child?” she asked with delight.

“Yes.”

“My fashion choices must be succeeding, then, because that’s exactly the vibe I’m going for.”

They rinsed the dogs. Arthur licked Luke’s face from the bottom of his cheek all the way up to his hairline. Luke winced.

Good boy, Arthur.

“Please tell me what other characteristics you think a flower child has,” she said.

“No.”

“C’mon,” she cajoled.

“A flower child walks around barefoot. Burns incense. Wears”—he circled his fingers around his head—“daisies in her hair. Talks about profound mystical crap.”

“Hmm.” Humor laced her tone. “I don’t go around barefoot because I have a sensory issue about grit on the soles of my feet. However, I do wear sandals all the time in warm weather. I never burn incense, but I do burn candles constantly. I’ve been known to put flowers in my hair. The only mystical thing I believe in is God, but I do talk to Him and about Him a lot. And I’ve already admitted how much I adore discussing the profound. Surface conversations become boring after a few minutes.”

“In that case, conversations with me will always become boring after a few minutes.”

She liked his dry sense of humor. “No, they won’t. There’s nothing boring about you.” All that control and sorrow! He was fascinating. Without even trying, Luke absorbed her attention as if she were sitting in a dark theater and he was lit by stage lights.

They placed the dogs on the mat and toweled them off. Arthur shook his coat vigorously, spraying Luke again. Luke stilled for a moment, then continued to dry the dog so gently that it warmed her heart.

She herded both dogs into the room’s small gated area, then activated the pet hair dryer.

“You’re not going to do anything about the first clue until we talk about it.” He folded a wet towel over his forearm. “Right?”

“I told you I wouldn’t, and so I won’t. You can trust me.” Even as she spoke the words, she knew they weren’t enough. “In time, I’ll show you through my actions that you can trust me.”

He considered her before tipping his head toward the door. “Are we done here?”

“We’re done here.” To his retreating back, she added, “I’ll text you my address.”

He came to a stop halfway through the door. “How about you just write it out for me?”

“Hesitant to give me your cell phone number?”

“Yes.”

“But I have access to it, remember? It’s on your employment documents.”

“Yeah, but flower child–types don’t like to use cell phone numbers without consent.”