As she munched on her sandwich, she eyed a bench closer to the playground. Maybe next week or next month, when the sun was even hotter and more pleasant, she’d lunch there and not be afraid.
Finishing her lunch, she crumpled up her napkin, put it in her little brown bag and tossed the whole thing into a nearby garbage can, then set off around the far western perimeter of the park, toward the flower shop where she’d worked for the past three months.
There were towering trees, oaks, pines, a willow here and there, in addition to the magnolias, walking paths, playing fields, a playground, an amphitheater and just about anything else anyone had been able to think of. The park hosted outdoor arts festivals, music festivals, kids’ festivals, garden shows, town celebrations, all sorts of things. It seemed any excuse to fill the park with people was welcomed.
Gwen was going to attend one of those festivals one day. For now, she watched a baby in a stroller throw a fit and fling her rattle onto the sidewalk, then cry and pout when she didn’t get the toy back after the mother picked it up.
Pretty, yellow tulips edged the sidewalk that must have just burst into bloom, and there were leaves in that brand-new green of spring slowly unfurling on the trees. Tiny baby squirrels chattered and scampered about. Birds were raising a ruckus in the trees.
Two kids squabbled loudly and vehemently over a ball, a disagreement that quickly led to shoving and parental intervention. Gwen actually grinned at that.
Fight back. Don’t let anyone walk all over you like that.
The parents would be horrified. Her parents certainly would have been. She’d been raised never to lift her hand to anyone, never to raise a fuss. It certainly wasn’t the reason for what had happened to her, but still, she had to wonder what would have happened if she’d screamed long and loud. If she’d struck out with her fists or her knee.
Not that it really mattered. She hadn’t.
People said attackers could pick out someone born to be a victim just by the way she walked, that attitude alone could dissuade a criminal from going after one woman and targeting another one instead.
She didn’t want to be a victim anymore.
Feeling bolder by the minute, Gwen, born a follower of all rules great and small, stepped off the sidewalk that skirted the park and trudged toward the creek, walked along its banks and then crossed it on one of the pretty, arching, stone-and-wood footbridges that crossed it at various points throughout the town.
Looking around, she saw there were power walkers, arms pumping energetically, making a trek around the fringes of the park, a vendor selling ice cream from a cart, little boys shrieking and trampling some of the new spring flowers as they played a wild game of chase. No victims there.
Walking on, she lifted her head high, threw her shoulders back and tried to strut confidently, not at all sure if she was succeeding or not. The motion felt awkward at best. She hoped no one was laughing or even paying her the least bit of attention.
Now that she looked about, she realized no one was.
In fact…How odd. It seemed nearly every eye was on something or someone else at the opposite end of the park. At least, every female eye. She turned, thinking something might be wrong, and that’s when she saw them.
“Oh, my,” Gwen said, stopping altogether and staring.
Runners, a man and a dog, both impossibly masculine, with dark blond hair, broad through the shoulder, narrow at the waist, and just so pretty it was impossible not to look. Sunlight caught in their hair and haloed around them. They were moving quickly, at a grueling pace that would have defeated her within a half mile. But they looked like they’d been at it forever.
The allover tan of the man, the leanness of his muscles and the rhythm in which he moved said he did this often. The look on his face said he was completely oblivious to the attention he was receiving.
Women were all but falling at his feet. If he stopped running long enough, surely they would.
The dog pranced. There was simply no other word. Nose stuck high in the air, as if he were king of all he surveyed, tail twitching proudly. He wasn’t even looking where he was going. He was too busy soaking up the attention of all the women.
“It has been too long since that man graced us with his presence,” a woman Gwen passed said to her friend. “He certainly brightens up the atmosphere in the park, doesn’t he?”
“Oh, yeah. We could sell tickets for his run,” her friend said. “People would pay just to watch.”
Gwen’s mouth started to twitch into something that might have been an honest-to-goodness smile. What a pair. The gorgeous man and the equally gorgeous dog. No reason a woman couldn’t appreciate the sight. There were all sorts of nice things to look at here in the park in the soft, spring sunshine today.
She decided to circle back to the ice-cream vendor and have a scoop of chocolate. Why not? She could use it.
She was still savoring the last bite when she came across the man and the dog again at the edge of the park. He was swiping at the sweat on his forehead, still breathing hard, power positively radiating from him.
Gwen had never been that comfortable with men like him. Very pretty men. Confident ones. Powerful ones. He was probably pushy, probably expected all sorts of things from a woman, just because he bought her a nice dinner. She wasn’t that kind of girl.
Not that he’d ever pay attention to a mouse like Gwen.
At the moment, three little boys were clustered around the dog, who was breathing hard, tongue lolling out. He seemed to be grinning, if that were possible, in between showing his appreciation for their attention and lapping at a cup filled with water, provided by the man standing at his side.
“Come on,” said the first kid, on his knees in the dirt beside the dog. “What’s his name?”
“Killer,” the man claimed with a straight face.
The dog looked at the man and gave a low growl, then whined sympathetically to the kid, as if to say he was completely misunderstood and unappreciated.
The kids giggled, and the next one took up the cause. “No it’s not. Tell us his name.”
“Butch,” the man said, glancing for the first time at Gwen, who quickly looked away.
The dog whined once more, laid himself flat on the ground, his tail wagging enthusiastically, as if begging the kids to play with him.
“Is not,” the biggest kid said.
“No, it’s not. But you can just call her Sweetpea. She loves that.”
The dog gave the man a look of pure disgust, and then turned puppy-dog eyes onto the boys, begging them to save him from such humiliating treatment.
Gwen couldn’t help it. She grinned.
“Mister, I don’t think your dog likes you very much,” one of the boys said.
“She’s just a little upset because she lost her pink bow on our run.”
“Uh-uh,” the littlest kid said. “She’s a boy dog.”
“Oh, I guess so. How about that. He just acts like a girl.”
Gwen had a feeling the dog might just turn around and take a hunk out of the man who’d insulted him so, but instead, the dog caught sight of her and forgot the little boys completely.
He made a little purring sound. Beautiful, blue eyes gazed up at her with a kind of interest she seldom inspired in males, and yes, he could do something with his expression that looked distinctly like a smile.
He swished his bushy tail back and forth for a moment, and then walked over to her, nuzzled