In The Kitchen With Chili

Chili told me that making pasta was all about adding flour, eggs, water and passion ... that the reason Italians made the best pasta was because they knew all about how to make love.

"Right," I scowled at him, my arms covered in flour while he rolled a thin stream of raw pasta through a press. "Why is it that all men think whatever ethnic group they're a part of is the best lovers? And yet women seem to know that any man who has to brag isn't any good."

"That wasn't bragging. That was stating a fact that had bearing on the subject at hand."

"Why is it that I'm covered in flour while you are almost immaculate?"

"Because I have style."

"I have style!" I started giggling. "Mine just happens to be artistic and carefree. Yours, on the other hand, is prim."

"Prim?" He gave me the look.

"It doesn't seem very passionate unless you get it all over you, Chili."

His eyebrows shot up. "If you're not careful, I'll show you something I could get passionate about all over your ..."

I was saved from his threat by the doorbell's sharp clang followed by Buck's rough barking at the audacity of someone actually approaching his doorway without his permission. He snarled at the door as I approached, wiping my hands on a towel and shushing him. His reaction told me that whoever was on the other side of the door was unlikely to be anyone he knew. So I grabbed him by the collar before I opened it lest my Rottweiler in a Sheltie's body showed how seriously he took his duty for protecting me from doorbell-ringing mailmen and Jehovah's Witnesses.

As soon as I opened the door, I was face to face with a large vase of roses in all these assorted colors.

"What's this? These are for me? You're sure?" I said, looking beyond the flowers and into the bored eyes of a teenaged boy who wanted me to take the proffered vase as well as sign off on his delivery chart all the while I was wrestling with Buck who wanted nothing so much as to sniff the delivery guy to death.

Chili was still in the kitchen when I returned, diligently threading the pasta through the rollers. I was hoping he wouldn't make an issue of the flowers.

Fat chance.

"Secret admirer?" he asked me.

I glared at him as I tried to get the gift card out from the tiny little envelope. Why do they do that? Make those envelopes such a chore to open, I mean. "What? You think I'm not capable of attracting someone? That what you're saying? Well, I'll have you know that ... that ..."

"That what?"

I looked at the card in my hand. Bit my lip. Looked at him. "That nothing."

"What's it say?"

"Nothing."

"Who sent the flowers?"

"No one."

"Ann."

"Chili, please. Just let me be, okay?"

For once, he cooperated. Instead of forcing me to say, he shooed me away and told me to go get cleaned up while he finished the pasta chores. I would have stayed in there to bug him to death, but my need to gather my wits was more pressing. I hid the card at the back of my sock drawer. I don't know why I put it there. Because it was safe, I suppose.

An hour later, I emerged from my bedroom ... fresh, dressed in clean clothes, perfumed. Chili had whipped up a fresh tomato and basil sauce to cover the strands of pasta. We ate dinner in front of the television because he wanted to watch some NBA game. I asked him idly if he was making book on it and he gave me the look. I think it was the first time he ever did it and meant it with me. It unnerved me.

He was very contrite afterwards. It's just that he wasn't making book anymore, he said, and he was hurt I'd assumed he still was. I realized this was a big deal to him; not that I necessarily thought he'd gone completely legit, but I did feel bad that I'd upset him like that. I think we both knew why I'd been so petty with him.

After the game, I was feeling contrite. I asked him if he'd like to take me dancing, maybe visit the pub. He said he wanted to visit with the Garage Trio ... Johnny, Colin, Dom ... so he thought that was a good idea. Besides, he said, he could start writing off his tab at the bar as a business expense if they were having business meetings there.

I saw Max's car in the lot when we pulled in at the pub; I steeled myself before going in. I even had a smile on my face.

Chili made me dance with him in the pub. He played two slow sultry jazz numbers that lasted forever ... and then he played these up-tempo swing tunes that brought other couples out on the floor to jive.

But then his Gasoline Alley Trifecta showed up. I was abandoned summarily.

Okay, so I had this almost rabid need to keep moving ... to not ever be any place where I'd be cornered for unwanted conversation. I looked around for likely dance partners. They were all otherwise engaged. Well, except for Sid.

Of course, Max never dances. He stood over at the bar and looked above it all. Except I glanced at him once too often and our eyes met.

Shit. So I had to go be nice to him. I mean, heaven forbid he get the idea I was uncomfortable around him in public or avoiding him now.

"Thank you for the flowers," I told him. "That certainly wasn't necessary."

"I had understood it was a rather common courtesy for a man to send flowers to thank a woman after ... after spending an evening together ..." His eyes dodged away from me and he shifted around. "Not that I meant to imply we spent the evening together as in ..."

"Look, it was nice, last night. I enjoyed the opera. And I liked the flowers. You just shouldn't do that anymore, I think." 

We were sneaking around, see? Finishing off a few dates he'd had arranged with Eris before she moved away. Sneaking around so that some man I was pretending to have a love affair with didn't find out I was having fake dates with a man who didn't know I really did love him. It was confusing. It made me feel dirty, like it tainted something I'd wanted to keep pure. Isn't unrequited love supposed to be pure? Isn't it almost by definition pure enough to hurt? Isn't that about the only thing that's actually any good about it? It should have been pure because then the sacrifice might have been almost worth it.

"I did something wrong?"

"No, Max. Not really."

He rubbed a hand at his temple; he was staring intently at the glass in his hands. He didn't have a clue. He must have read or overheard someone say that bit about sending flowers after a date ... only we hadn't been on a date, which I knew only too well and which he did not have to remind me by stuttering over it like that. Or maybe he did that sort of thing for Eris, sending flowers after a date with her; maybe it was a habit now.

Except something told me it might have been a new affectation. So maybe he was trying out his new dating style on me; maybe he figured if I was charmed, that it'd work good on women he had a chance with. Because, of course, he knew he didn't stand a chance with me. Well, not that he necessarily wanted that chance, but you know, even men like Maximus the Great must get horny enough to look around and take someone who's proven in the past to be a rather fun companion in the sack.

I thought about this on the drive back to my place that night. It's why I was so quiet and just went, "Mmm" to everything Chili said. I was thinking about the fact that I had a choice now. Now that Max had no steady bedmate, he might see no real reason not to try to get our past hijinks started again. Not that he'd actually made any real overt moves on me. But he might. Sometimes I thought maybe he was almost about to.

Of course, that would be pretty insulting to me, wouldn't it? Because the myth I was pushing at him was that I was in love with someone. Which I was. Which was him. Which he didn't know. And I'd told him very plainly that I didn't want to just be some sex mate to him as long as I was in love. I had told him very firmly. So he would honor that, right? Hey, we're talking St. Maximus the Venerable Stoic, here.

God. I missed him.

I missed how open the possibilities with him used to be back before this stupid turn of events. Back when I knew it was sex between us but that it wasn't just about getting our rocks off because we also cared about each other. Back when I would have welcomed him to my bed, no questions asked, no expectations whatsoever.

Okay, okay. I had to stop missing what was never going to be again.

I was a smart, adult, modern woman. I had choices.

If he ever chose to make a pass at me ... if he chose to go against my stated wishes and try to make something other than platonic friendship between us, I'd drop him where he stood.

He couldn't have it both ways. He couldn't stand there being a man I loved with no chance he loved me ... and also stand there just wanting to have sex with me while I would have been breaking on the inside. No. He had only one course of action he could take: he had to honor my stated wish that we be friends and nothing but friends.

How come it seemed to get so much more complicated now that his love interest was gone? Only I could find myself in this kind of ridiculous situation with a man.

"Did you know she'd moved away?" Chili asked me a couple miles later. It startled me, this question, because I was already thinking about something else. Yeah.

"Sure."

"And?"

"And nothing."

"This is your chance, Ann."

"Look, he had a chance. He fell in love with her, not me. It's not like he's going to suddenly feel something for me just because he's alone. Well, I mean, he may feel horny but that's his problem, not mine. I just want to be friends now."

"You know I don't believe you."

"You know I don't really care."

"I don't believe that either."

"Well, I don't much care about that either."

Man, that Chili Palmer. He just can really frost me sometimes.

In The Garage With Johnny

"This goes where? Johnny, there is no way ..."

"You've got it upside down, love. Here ..."

"Oh! I see."

"I can see you blushing, you know."

"Well, that was a rather rookie mistake. Don't tell Dom, okay? He will never let me live it down."

"Make it worth my while, Ann, and we'll talk."

"Yeah. I see that happening, chum."

But he made me giggle wildly when he reached over and tickled me along the ribs ... I swatted at his hands but it was rather confined space under the car. I finally threatened to whack him with a wrench if he didn't stop. He did ... for like a second ... and then this totally bad little boy look came over him and I knew I was in trouble.

God, he's such a tonic. He's fun but he also knows I'm hiding out for a while. He's okay with that; I rather think he enjoys it that I'm doing it like this ... hiding out from what's troubling me by coming over to the garage every time I get blue and letting him teach me about cars while he shows me that life is definitely marching on. He likes watching over me; likes that I look to him for that.

I was still chuckling at him as I slid quickly out from under the car to escape a renewed assault on my body. I was on my back, laying on one of those creeper boards with wheels that mechanics use as I whisked myself out of his reach. Actually, the only reason we were using the creepers was because I thought they were a heck of a lot more fun than the hydraulic lift that they really used to get to all those hard to reach places under a car.

But Johnny and Dom indulged me ... they had gone out and gotten several of those boards just so I'd have an extra bit of fun when I was over there learning about cars and helping them out. Colin, on the other hand, didn't have as much patience with me. So we generally only really goofed around when he was gone.

So I pushed myself out from under the car we were working on and went "wheee!" as I flew out across the slick cement garage floor ... only to slip rapidly past these rather imposing legs ... and to look up as I passed by to see ...

"Max!" I rather screeched out as I skidded by him.

His sudden appearance startled me. I tried to jump up from the creeper, to assume a more dignified stance before the man ... but instead I just fell off in this big heap. He picked me up and set me on my feet.

"I was looking for Colin or Johnny," he said as I brushed off my butt, tried to get my hair in some order, felt myself smudge grease across my cheek, made the smudge worse by trying to wipe it with the other hand, looked down at the overalls and wondered if there was ever any woman who was a bigger dope than me ... or one with a worse run of luck with a man like this.

"We were ... um ... I was learning how to ... Johnny! You have a customer," I replied. And then fled into the bathroom.

I waited in there for maybe twenty minutes. I figured the coast was clear. But it wasn't. I found that out when I skipped into the office to ask Johnny what Max had wanted ... And bounced right into Max.

Why is it lately that he's always seeming to have to either pick me up after I've fallen or is grabbing hold of me to keep me from falling? It's an odd set of circumstances, I think.

"Sorry, Max! Did I hurt you?" I asked him ... and immediately noticed that I'd smeared oil on his sleeve ... at least this day, he was not dressed in a black suit. Nope. Now he was wearing a collared pique shirt with natty black wool slacks and a rather spiffy relaxed sports jacket that was deep charcoal. I couldn't get used to the 'new' him. I really wasn't so sure I was too thrilled that he was making all these changes just to polish himself up for some other woman who he'd yet to meet.

At least ... Oh, jeez, I thought, surely he hasn't already met someone? And then I had this entirely petulant thought of, 'if he has to change to attract her, she doesn't deserve him, the bitch.'

So ... anyway, I hadn't hurt him; he just gave me this indulgent grimace. He asked me why I was at the garage ... I asked him the same thing.

I told him I was spending a lot of time at the garage lately, learning about cars from Johnny. I was tired of getting taken advantage of by men, I said with a little smirk. He rolled his eyes but I could have sworn he was working hard not to laugh at the little attempt at a joke that only he would get.

He said his car had begun making a grinding noise when he shifted and that he had heard good reports of the guys' abilities with cars. And then he paused very noticeably before adding that he was tired of dealing with mechanics he didn't entirely trust and that he simply could no longer bring his short sword with him to ensure they were not lying to him. I chuckled when he said that. He gave me that cute, endearing, boyish grin of his.

I hate when he does that!

While Johnny gave Max a ride home, I manned the office. As soon as Johnny came back in, I asked if I could help fix Max's car. Not that there ended up being anything really wrong with it. Johnny never could really find the noise, much less figure out what the source of it had been. But he said that's the way it was sometimes ... phantom noises that disappeared the moment you took the car to the mechanic.

We did a tune up and a few other things. I wasn't there when Max came to retrieve his car; Johnny told me later that Max had seemed almost embarrassed when Johnny told him he just hadn't been able to find anything wrong.

But there must have been something wrong after all because after that, for about two weeks, Max had the worst run of luck with his car. First he got a flat tire and then his fan belt split and then the car developed a slow oil leak and then it got a big old dent in the rear side panel that Max said must have happened when he was at the grocery store.

When he left that time, I overheard Dom say to Johnny that he just couldn't picture the General of the Armies of the North going shopping for groceries. I have to admit, that image was rather provocative to me for some odd reason. Maybe it was the normalcy of it. Maybe it was just the idea of his unaffected private time spent alone.

I was spending enough time around the garage, frankly, that I was there about every time Max dropped off his poor car and every time he picked it up. I'd even given him the requisite ride home once or twice when the guys had been too busy with customers' cars.

He sent me a vase full of gardenias as a thank you for the first lift home; he sent me a basket of daffodils after the second time. I really like getting flowers, I do. But I felt kind of guilty about it because I'd never sent him a thing after he'd rushed out to help me after my own car had broken down on the side of the road.

Dom had teased me the last time Max had been there that maybe this mysterious run of bad luck with his car was a convenient excuse to come to the garage to see me. Because I'm looking so hot in these greasy overalls, I'd snapped back. But I saw Johnny give him this glare; mercifully, it stopped Dom from taking it further.

I asked Johnny later if Dom really thought that or if he was just teasing me. He mumbled something about Dom not being in enough possession of a brain to ever make sense. So I don't know but I think that means Dom was just messing with me. Because it would sure suck if anyone but Chili ever figured out that I felt about Max like I did.

For some reason, the day Max came to check on his car after the guys had had it for a few days to hammer out the dent and repaint the body, I was the only one around the front office. Johnny was somewhere in the back working on an engine overhaul. Dom and Colin were off getting parts they'd tracked down at a dealer about a half hour away.

Once again, I walked smack into Max. Once again, he had to grab me before I fell down after the encounter. I told him we were going to have to stop meeting like this.

I don't know why what happened next happened. I suppose we were just too close. He had his hands on my arms, gripping in, holding me up. I made the wisecrack; looked up in his face, expecting him to zing me back with some smart response ... only he just tilted his head at me. We were way too close.

Ever been in a situation that makes you hold your breath? That's what this did. I kept looking at his lips. I saw his tongue peek out and then hide again. He swallowed hard. And then he slid his hands up over my shoulders and just followed along until he was drawing them up my neck. I felt his thumbs doing these gentle little circles on my cheeks. And the whole time, I was holding my breath.

He only had to move a few inches to have his mouth on mine. So he moved ... but then he hovered over my lips ... his mouth brushing mine but not pressing down.

"Kiss me back," he said in this hoarse whisper. A blind man would have been able to smell my arousal.

"I can't do this," I said to him, my fingers already binding themselves into his shirt, the part that covered his chest. He has such an incredible chest.

"And yet you are," he said back, his lips moving against mine as he spoke.

Which is when he kissed me. It was so tender and slow. I thought maybe it would only ever be lip on lip, that his tongue and my tongue would never ... oh ... but then he tasted me. And the sigh he gave me ... I didn't even know I was holding his face in my hands until we stopped kissing.

I felt tears rising in my chest. I don't understand much about myself but I do know this was breaking my heart ... he is such a wonderful man. If I'd just been satisfied with returning to what we'd once been, I could have taken that kiss and then taken him home. But it wasn't enough for me anymore ... and again, it was the road to worse heartbreak, really. Imagine having sex with a man you loved when you know he's never going to love you? That he'll be in some other woman's bed the next night maybe because you're nothing more special to him than any other woman who'd enjoy the night with him?

But I'm so weak. So very weak where he's concerned. The only thing I'm strong enough for is the 'all or nothing' route. This close and I didn't trust myself not to break down. To give in to the physical even if it broke me emotionally later on.

"Please, Max. You know I can't ..."

"You want to, though ... we both know it."

"Help me. Don't let me do this. Please."

"Perhaps it isn't him you want after all ... if you loved him, truly loved him, would you feel these urges for another man?"

"You're going to break my heart if you don't stop this."

"I would protect it. You know I would."

"You can't. Not now. Not anymore. Please ..." I was breathing again, for all the good it did me.

"I worry for you, Ann. I care for you ... very much." He was whispering to me, his lips caressing my cheek, his nose nuzzling in my hair. But the only mercy he showed me was that his hands were not doing anything but holding my face to his. "Promise me this and I will release you. And I will not bother you again."

"What promise?"

"That you will always know I will be there for you if he hurts you."

"I can't think like that, Max. You can't either. You're only doing this because ... because you don't approve of Chili. This isn't even about me."

"It is only about you, Ann. Only you."

I hated that. That he would use those two words. But he let me go. He did. And then he just walked out of there. He told me to have Johnny or Dom call him when his car was ready.

Every time I saw him at the pub after that, he was cordial but there was a reserve. A barrier. A frustration I could see in his eyes, his carriage. That was nothing to compare, though, to the way he regarded Chili with animosity and contempt that was palpable.

It made me feel badly for poor Chili. It was going to be even tougher on him if the great Maximus stepped up the hostility another notch or two. Max's opinion of an outsider like Chili would matter to a lot of those people. They'd just assume Max was right about his character. And I don't know why he was so dead set against Chili, honestly. I mean, Chili just wants to belong, that's all. And look what he's done.

I mean, look at it dispassionately. Chili's been trying to help me for no reason I can see that benefits him; he's been nothing but a gentleman in his dealings with Uma even if he might have craved more. In fact, he's been cordial and charming to every woman in there. He's helped Colin, Dom and Johnny get their garage. He's become Jack's carousing buddy, which believe me should be of relief to us all because Chili will watch out for Jack and will not let other people take advantage of him when he's in his cups. As for the other men, those that have given him even close to an even shot, he's tried to engage them on their own topics of interest so he can learn about what kind of men they are and so they can begin to see who he really is for themselves.

But Maximus will be a formidable enemy on top of the natural suspicion the cops in the joint feel about Chili, not to mention Terry's macho resentment of another pack's Alpha dog.

How do I keep digging the hole deeper? When do I catch a break for doing the right thing?

In The Obedience Ring With Buck

Over the last week or so, I've been reading this new book. Happened to have my nose buried in it when Chili came to pick me up. "He's Just Not That Into You." Great title.

"Even better lesson," I said to him.

"You really need all this?" he asked me, ignoring the book after scowling at it.

"Yes. I have to keep him in a crate until it's time for him to compete," I said. "And, of course, I need water and food and ..."

"Am I the only person you know with a van?"

"I thought you wanted to come with us?"

"I do."

"Then quit griping."

You know, sometimes, I think Chili likes me only because of those odd times when I will just say things like that to him. When he can give me his look all day long and I will still snipe at him.

I don't know. We have this odd sort of chemistry. It's sorta like brother and sister ... only it's also not. I mean, he is good-looking and rather attractive. Don't tell him I said that. It would go to his already swollen head. Not that he doesn't know I find him attractive. He does. But it's more how you'd admire a piece of sculpture ... it may look artful and meaningful ... it may even uplift you in some ways. But you have to stay cautious with Chili and not give yourself up to the art of his act.

Just don't tell him I compared him to a work of art. I'll never hear the end of it.

So anyway ... on this day in question, Chili was performing a chore for me. And he might have griped about having to do some toting and lifting, but I think he likes being needed. I think he likes that I asked him for the favor of coming with me to the very first obedience show competition for Buck and me.

I was glad to have him with me. It would make things much easier for me to have someone like him along. He would bug me and carp at me until I was stone cold annoyed ... and therefore, I would have no time to get nervous before Buck and I stepped in the ring.

Buck was pretty calm about it all. Of course, he didn't really know what was happening. He did know that I'd been working him out awful hard for the last two weeks. He did know we went to training class a lot more religiously. He did know that I was no longer allowing him to fool around during training.

And then we arrived at the show site. It was in the fairgrounds about an hour away. We drove up and there were so many cars outside the huge arena where the show was being held. I grabbed Chili's arm when he parked and whispered to him in awe about all the dogs and owners.

"Look how obedient they are," I said as I pointed to all these dogs on leashes who were just marching along next to their owner like they were already in the show ring and yet all they were doing was leaving their cars and going into the show site. "We're gonna get creamed."

"Buck's going to do great," Chili said.

Yeah.

Well, his opinion changed the instant I opened the back of the van and let Buck out. I barely had time to grab his collar to snap his leash on; he was halfway toward leaping out and attacking a Doberman. By the time I got to the registration table, gritting my teeth and keeping a death grip on his leash, Buck had challenged any other male dog within barking or lunging distance. I was thinking I should turn around and head home.

But Chili said he hadn't come all this way to see me chicken out now. So we got Buck settled in his crate and while Chili sat in a chair next to him scouting out the surroundings, I went off to make sure I knew what ring we'd be reporting to and to double check the time for our competition.

I passed all these other rings along the way. It was mass confusion. Or maybe I was the only one confused. I had to keep asking people who looked like they knew the ropes ... but eventually, I found the place for the small novice dogs who'd be showing on the lowest rung of the competitions. We had an hour to wait before our turn, the steward told me.

An hour.

I wandered around on my way back to where Chili and Buck were. I wanted to take a look at the other rings. There were amazing dogs in there competing in advanced classes. They were leaping barriers, walking perfectly off leash, dashing to retrieve objects and returning precisely where they should before their owners.

It was very intimidating.

Actually, it wasn't Buck I was worried about anymore. It was me.

These other owners sure as hell looked like they knew what they were doing. I didn't. 

And then I saw this group of mugs I recognized. Johnny. Dom. Dino. Heather. Uma. Andy. Maximus.

I was so happy to see them. Reinforcements!

So they were looking for me all the time I was wandering around getting nervous. And they only came, Uma said, because Chili had mentioned that I had entered Buck in this competition. And they figured it might be a hoot to come be Buck's cheering section.

That made me feel nice. That they'd all come down there just for my dog ... and me. And that it'd been Chili who'd realized it would make my day to have them there.

So they were there to cheer and clap for Buck as we entered the ring a little over an hour later. Buck was in his glory. Absolutely. He loves putting on a show for people. He loves attention. He loves being applauded. He loves showing how great he is.

And he was.

He was so great.

Unfortunately for him, his owner fucked up.

Big time.

When we left the ring, I absolutely was thinking Buck had nailed everything and that this was such a cool activity for us. But then the judge stopped me on the way out to tell me, as gently as possible, that she didn't want me to be upset when the scores came down but that she had disqualified Buck because I'd made an error ... I'd held a hand signal too long.

I tried not to react. I didn't want Buck to feel he'd messed up. I wanted to have him be excited for how good he did. But, I swear, my heart was broken by this.

My instructor was there when we left. He'd seen the performance. He'd known instantly we'd be disqualified. But he also knew that Buck had done fantastic. So he put his arms around me and told me there'd be another day and that I should just chalk this up.

All my friends from the pub had no idea what had happened. All my friends from class could take one look at the exchange with the judge and they knew I'd been DQ'd.  So while my pub friends were all excited and petting Buck, my class friends were so sad for me.

I put on a brave face and said, well, that's why they call it human error, eh? And I gave Buck a special liver treat and told him what a great dog he was. Because he really and truly is.

Chili said we should toast anyway ... because if nothing else, I'd at least made the effort to get in the ring. So he opened champagne ... much to the consternation of the dog people around us, who knew I'd fucked up ... and we drank to Buck.

While they were all talking, I took Buck on a stroll to look at the other rings where the more advanced dogs were competing. We sat and watched some really impressive competitions. I asked Buck if he thought he might like to do that someday ... if we ever qualified to advance. He gave me the biggest grin and wagged his tail like he'd never heard of anything more exciting than that idea.

"Great. You're into this. I may have to get you another owner," I said to him as I hugged on him. He's such a wonderful dog.

And then Buck laid his ears back and he narrowed his eyes at the big body that sank down to sit on his other side. He growled, low; like he was holding himself back only because we were in public but if we hadn't been, he would have lunged at this dangerous infidel who dared to come sit by us. He never has really felt Max was anything but a challenge to him.

Max put his big hand on Buck's head and regarded him seriously. "You have a big heart," he said solemnly to my dog. "I was very impressed with your discipline in the ring. As I am impressed with how well you tend dutifully to your mistress."

Buck cocked his head and looked at him. It was the eeriest thing. Like Buck understood somehow that Max had just given him a supreme compliment. Like maybe he'd have to reevaluate this intruder who seemed to have such respect for him.

And then over his head, Max grinned at me. "Damn. You had me going there, Max! I thought you were about ready to give him the 'echoes in eternity' speech," I said with a chuckle.

"Well, it is wise in life to know when to find humor. And perspective," he said softly.

I shrugged my shoulders. "I hate that it was me who messed up today."

"It's not only about the dog's performance. It's about seeing the teamwork between dog and handler," he said.

"Yeah. I just ... well, I just wish I hadn't screwed it up for him. But he was good, wasn't he?"

"Most assuredly."

"And he liked it out there. He liked performing." I looked off into the ring where we were and saw another dog sail smartly over a barrier on command of his owner. "He'll be out there someday doing that. You watch."

"I will. I believe in you both."

My eyes kind of unfocused. But I was still resolutely looking over toward the ring. "Thanks, Max. That means a lot to me."

I don't know what I felt in that moment. It was somehow both comforting and disquieting ... to be this close to him but to forever be separated by the distance I had to maintain to keep him as a friend.

"Before I forget, I brought you something to mark this occasion," Max said.

I glanced at him; he handed me a small paper bag. I opened it and pulled out the last thing I would have expected. It was the most wonderful coffee mug ... big and chunky, just like I like them. But most spectacular of all was that it was emblazoned with a Sheltie that looked so much like Buck.

"Oh, Max." I was almost overwhelmed. It was such a thoughtful gift for me. I'd mentioned to him once in passing that I never found things with Sheltie's on them that I ever liked. Usually, the only cool dog things have German shepherds or golden retrievers or labs on them. Never Shelties. And yet ... here was the kind of mug I liked and the sweetest Sheltie right there on it.

"You like it?" he asked me, his voice so measured and pure.

"I love it. And I love the thoughtfulness of it. Thank you for this. I'll treasure it."

He got this blush on his cheeks. God, he looked so sexy just then. I hate that.

But I loved him all the more for it. And for the mug. And for coming to watch me and Buck. 

And for being my friend.

"You're such a great friend to me, Max."

He looked off into the ring, his smile fading, like my show of emotion might have suddenly made him uncomfortable. And he just gave me this little nod to signal that he'd heard me and registered what I'd said.

I showed Chili the mug on the ride home. He told me to quit grinning at it and rubbing it the way I was. He said it was almost obscene. I smacked him on the shoulder in response.

He has my number, does Chili.

That can be most annoying.

He says it's a shame I refuse to exploit the opportunity with Max. He thinks Max is hitting on me in his own way. I tell him he's crazy. He says it amazes him that I still doubt the great and wise Chili Palmer doesn't know these things. I tell him that this is one dream I will not pursue because I don't want to fail and come away empty handed.

It's really true, what that book says.  "He's Just Not That Into You." I mean, what it says about what a man really means when he makes excuses not to be with you or when he sometimes seems to want to take things further with you only to disappear on you later. Maybe it just took a book by a man talking about how men aren't really all that complicated to make this all make more sense to me. It's like the guy writes in the book ... that there's no need to start trying to figure some man out when he's not acting like you wish he would.

It's okay to be in love with someone who only sees in you a woman he likes to have sex with. It doesn't mean there's something wrong ... with you, with him, with the relationship. It just means you want different things. And that happens.

But all the figuring out work in the world isn't going to make a man love you if he doesn't see that "thing" in you that he needs to fall in love with someone.

It is freeing to realize that about me and Max. It's rather glorious in a way ... he's just not that into me. Doesn't make me less attractive or smart. Just means whatever the magical combination of ingredients are, I don't have the ones he's going to respond to.

So it was that book that made me realize all this. And now, I'm setting myself loose so I can find a man who's going to be into me, all the way. He's out there somewhere. I'm not in a hurry to find him, either. I've got my male friends and that's enough testosterone for now.