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her girlfriends at the dog park. The problem was that, like her, they preferred the company of canines to people, so their track records when it came to romance weren’t exactly stellar. Marcus was a man; he’d be able to analyze guy behavior for her. Plus he was always going to dance concerts and gallery openings and parties. He knew how people in the non-dog world operated. Delilah’s idea of a good time was cozying up on her couch with her dogs and a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream, watching Animal Planet .
    â€œWhy do you think he likes you?”
    â€œWell, he wanted to know all about my dogs and how I got into the dog walking business. Then, when I told him he should get a Halti at the pet shop, he said, ‘Maybe you could come with me.’ ”
    â€œSo, you’re thinking he might want to put the moves on you while perusing pooper scoopers.”
    Delilah scowled. “I know you think you’re being hilarious, but you’re not.”
    â€œI’m sorry, kitten.” He patted the top of her head. “Continue.”
    â€œThat’s it, really. Any thoughts?”
    â€œHow were you with him?”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œYou know what I mean. Which of your two anxious personalities came out: Betsy Blurt or Babbling Brook?”
    â€œI think I may have babbled a little. I’m not sure.”
    â€œWell, if you babbled and you still think he likes you, then that says something.”
    â€œLike what?”
    Marcus sighed. “Hard to say, since I haven’t actually met him.”
    â€œGreat.” Delilah slumped against the wall. “You know when a dog thinks she’s Gwen Stefani, but you can’t give me any insights on male behavior.”
    Marcus pursed his lips. “This is what I think.”
    Delilah waited.
    â€œAsking you how you came to be a dog walker could just be basic human curiosity—or he might like you. Similarly, asking you to go to the pet shop with him could be because he’s nervous about buying the right collar—or he might have been flirting with you. My question to you is: Does it matter?”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œLet’s say for the sake of argument he does like you. Are you going to do anything about it? If he asked you out, would you accept?”
    Delilah hesitated. “I don’t know.”
    Marcus put the kettle on the stove. “Then why are we even having this conversation?”
    â€œYou’re right.” Delilah pulled up a kitchen chair. “I did take a closer look at him this time,” she admitted. “He is attractive. And nice. And he really loves his dog.”
    â€œBut.”
    â€œBut I can’t—I don’t—he—”
    â€œYou’d feel more comfortable if he had four legs rather than two.”
    â€œYes.”
    Marcus sat down beside her. “Lilah, you’ve got to get over your shyness— and your fear. Just because your parents’ marriage went up in flames like the Hindenburg , doesn’t mean they all wind up that way.”
    Marcus was right. All those years of doors slamming, plates crashing, and name-calling had left its mark. So had the always confusing aftermath, when her parents would make up and vow undying love—until the next time they fought. It had taken her years to allow herself to have a serious relationship, and when she did, her anxiety had blown it.
    â€œI’m not sure I’m willing to take the risk,” Delilah admitted.
    Marcus pushed back from the table. “Then continue living a half life.”
    His words stung. “I’m frightened, Marcus. Please don’t be cross with me.”
    â€œI’m sorry, babycakes.” He placed the teabags in their cups. “It just gets so frustrating sometimes! You’re this sweet, wonderful woman, yet you choose to hide your light beneath a bushel of dog hair. Haven’t you ever heard the expression