Tessa

After the accidental favor Graham had done for her, Tessa couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Not because she was mortified (although she was, a little), but because every time she remembered Moose sitting peacefully at Graham’s feet, her heart squeezed in a way she didn’t know how to control.

Graham had pretended to be irritated. He’d acted like it was the worst possible way to spend ten minutes of his life.
But he had scratched Moose behind the ears without even realizing it.
And Moose didn’t trust just anyone.

Tessa decided — very scientifically — that this was important data.

Naturally, she did what any reasonable, mature adult would do with this information.

She planned to exploit it.

Just a little.

---

Graham

Graham wasn’t suspicious at first.

The next few days went normally enough.
Work. Coffee. Paperwork. More work.

And the occasional glimpse of Tessa breezing through the courtyard with her whirlwind energy and her ridiculous, oversized dog.

He told himself he wasn’t paying attention.

(He was.)

But then things started happening.

Small things.

First, Moose’s leash “accidentally” slipped from Tessa’s fingers again while she juggled her camera gear.

Then, Moose “happened” to choose Graham’s chair as his favorite resting spot whenever Tessa stopped for coffee.

And today — today took the cake.

Tessa approached him as he sat outside The Nook, his second coffee of the morning in hand, an invoice spreadsheet open on his laptop.

She had Moose in tow, a bright, almost too-bright smile plastered on her face.

“Hi,” she chirped. “Quick favor?”

Graham set his coffee down with a thud.

“No.”

“You don’t even know what it is yet!”

“I do,” he said grimly. “It involves the dog.”

Tessa grinned shamelessly.

“Okay, yes, but it’s really simple. Just… hold Moose for five minutes while I pick up some prints from the copy shop down the street.”

“No.”

“Please?”

She gave him the full force of her hopeful gaze.
The one she probably used to negotiate lower rent or snag extra whipped cream on her lattes.

Graham closed his eyes briefly.

“Five minutes,” he said through gritted teeth.

Tessa beamed and handed over Moose’s leash like she was transferring royal duties.

“You’re the best! I’ll be right back!”

And then she was gone.

Again.

Graham glared down at Moose.

Moose stared up at him, tongue lolling out happily.

“You,” Graham said, “are a menace.”

Moose wagged his tail.

Graham sighed and sat back in his chair, leash wrapped loosely around his wrist.

He couldn’t believe he was doing this.

Again.

---

Tessa

She peeked around the corner before heading into the copy shop, unable to resist.

And there they were: Graham sitting stiffly, Moose leaning against his leg like they were old war buddies.

Her chest squeezed again, tighter this time.

It was ridiculous.

It was dangerous.

She knew better than to get attached to anything too quickly — people, places, even kind grumpy men who pretended to hate dogs.

But it was already happening.

She was falling for the way Graham’s scowl softened when he thought no one was looking.

For the way Moose trusted him, immediately and completely.

For the way Graham said no with his mouth and yes with his actions.

Tessa swallowed hard, turned away, and hurried inside the shop.

Because Rome wasn’t built in a day.
And neither were trust or friendships or… whatever strange thing was blooming between her and Graham.

But if she was careful, if she didn’t push too hard…

Maybe, just maybe, they could build something anyway.