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seem to be judging though. She’s probably looking around because that is what you do when you enter someplace new, but what if she thinks my place isn’t good enough for Etta? You need to childproof a home, but do you need to dog proof it? Why didn’t I think of this before she got here? Maybe I should ask her.
    My lips start to move, and then I realize my question is foolish. What do I expect, that I am supposed to put plastic plugs in the outlets so Etta doesn’t zap her paw? That’s ridiculous!
    It is ridiculous, right?
    What kind of guy gets this nervous over taking care of a dog? The Man Club is going to yank away my balls and cancel my membership.
    I should say something. Now would be the prime time to ask questions about caring for Etta.  

    This man gives some of the sweetest, most amazing answers. It makes me feel like he should be easy to get to know. However, he seems a little apprehensive when it comes to conversation. Do I make him uncomfortable? Honestly, he seems distracted. He does have textbooks on the coffee table. I’m probably interrupting his studies. I don’t want to be rude and overstay my welcome.
    Since my hopes for an offer of a glass of water, a soda, or a drawer to put my belongings go unanswered, I stand and grab my purse. “Well, call if you need anything. I'll see you in two weeks for that follow-up appointment.”
    “Uh, yeah. Okay.” He says it like he is surprised that I am leaving, and then a look of realization crosses his face. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a terrible host. Truthfully, I have too many things on my mind, and I’m worried about giving Etta all that she needs. I didn’t mean to come off as ungrateful for what you have done.”
    “It’s fine, Jensen, but are you really okay? Do you need me to take her? I can give her a good home.”
    His answer jumps out quickly. “No, we will be fine. I am absolutely certain of it.”
      I smile. “I am too.”
    Just short of reaching the door, a glimpse at a photo locks my feet in place and nearly takes the breath out of me. A boy and a woman stand next to a painting that makes me dizzy with disbelief. Patches of trees and flowers sit among the desert. Midnight blue embraces the earth. Stars fill the sky, yet a cluster of them dominates the center. They remind me of The Star Tarot card. “Wow! Where was this taken?”
    “My mom’s old house. My brother took the photo about fifteen years ago, not long after she finished the painting. That’s her and me next to it. Eddie tried to get as much detail as possible.”
    “Seriously? She painted that? Did she copy it from something?” This painting is a perfect match for my dream—the same dream the psychic saw in the cards—except I’ve never seen it from this angle before. The patches look more like paths. Is it that I am freaked out, or is there something in this painting that makes my eyes drift left?
    “No. Why?”
    “Maybe I’ve seen it before, like in a gallery or something.”  
    “I doubt it. Are you much of an art lover?”
    “No, it just seems familiar.” Part of me wants to share the craziness of how, but can I tell him it matches both a recurring dream and a Tarot reading without sounding nuts? A lot of people roll their eyes at even the notion of Tarot cards and psychics. Also, the only person who knows about that dream is Griffin. It’s always felt too personal to share.
    But there must be some reason that Jensen has this painting. Is he the thing that shakes up my world?
    No, that Tower sounded more like an event than a person. Besides, Jensen seems too sweet to cause me problems. If he were dangerous, Etta wouldn’t have warmed up to him.
    I’ve got to find out what this all means. Unfortunately, Jensen has given absolutely no indication that he would ever be interested in seeing me outside of Etta’s appointments. How could I change that?
    I leave with a simple good night and a determined resolve. I may have to get creative, but I will find a way