‘Oh, no. Jasper!’
Sophie’s black spaniel reached the jogger.
‘Jasper, NO. Don’t jump…’ Argh, too late, ‘up.’
The riverside path, last week frozen concrete hard, had thawed to mud-pie sludge. Now two paw-sized splodges slid down the man’s shorts to his thighs. Sophie dragged her eyes back to his face.
‘I am so sorry.’
Her cheeks burned. Not the dream opening to a conversation with gorgeous-jogging-guy. She saw him most mornings, running with his obedient collie close at heel. He always slowed down, raising her hopes he might stop to chat. But the brief ‘hi’ or ‘hello’, exchanged in passing, left her to wallow in disappointment.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, making an ineffective attempt to brush away Jasper’s paw prints. ‘After yesterday’s downpours, it’s impossible not to get filthy running…
