Battersea Bound
"Dog walker Ruby runs into the same handsome architect Paul every morning at Battersea Park—until one day she runs into him literally, and they discover their dogs aren't the only ones in heat."
Ruby's Pomeranian was chaos incarnate. Paul's German Shepherd was trying to make friends. The collision was inevitable.
"I'm so sorry—" they both started.
Then stopped. Looked at each other properly.
She was thick and wind-tousled, Caribbean warmth in her smile despite the cold morning. He was all overcoat and cheekbones.
"Yuh dog likes mi dog," she observed.
"Seems mutual."
"Buy mi coffee? Make up for the tackle?"
Coffee became daily ritual. Then dinner. Then walks without the dogs.
"Yuh different from the Battersea men I meet," she said one evening.
"How so?"
"Yuh actually listen. Yuh actually see mi." She stopped walking. "Yuh seeing mi now?"
"I haven't stopped seeing you since we collided."
"Good." She pulled him toward her building. "Then come upstairs. See more."
More was everything. That thick body finally his to explore, Battersea lights through the window, her Pomeranian judging them from its bed.
"Yes! Paul! Right there!"
She moved like morning fog—surrounding him, filling everything, impossible to escape.
"Don't stop! We making up for lost time!"
"How many mornings did we waste just walking?" she gasped after.
"Every one before this."
"Then no more wasting." She climbed on top again. "Starting now."
Paul redesigned his morning commute to start at her flat.
Their dogs are inseparable. So are they.
Battersea Park regulars know them as the couple who collided into love.
Literally.
Bound together.
Never letting go.