'Thank God Shane isn't here to see this, or I'd have to knock him out to get him to stop laughing,' Rick thought as he scrambled around in search of something, anything to get the soft, pungent, freshly laid dog feces that he'd just stepped in off of his shoe. 'Could swear that sign says to pick up after your dog, but do people listen? Hell no!' he grumbled to himself as he spotted a broken branch laying on the ground by the fence. Rick grabbed the stick and proceeded to scrape out the tread of his hiking boot while silently cursing lazy dog owners. It was early enough in the morning that he and Bubbles had the dog area to themselves. The little, white teacup poodle ran around the park catching up on all the local news that had been left behind by the other resident dogs since last night's update. Rick had always considered himself a dog person, but he wasn't sure something that weighed five pounds could really qualify as a dog. His girlfriend Jessie loved the tiny canine to pieces though; and truth be told, she was actually really sweet.

Tossing aside the branch, he smirked at the pink bows that adorned Bubbles' ears. 'All we need to do now is get your momma to stop doing your nails, stop putting outfits on you, and actually let you be a dog; and you'll be in business.' Bubbles apparently agreed with this mindset, the enticing odor wafting out of a mysterious pile driving her to do an enthusiastic drop and roll which left her fluffy, white coat a distinct brown. 'Well, shit...' Rick sighed, knowing that Jessie would not be prepared to redecorate her all white living room to match the brown tones her furbaby would be leaving behind when they made it back upstairs to her condo. 'I guess my coffee will have to wait until you get a bath.' He had been enjoying the use of Jessie's Frieling french press while he dog sat for her. She'd left a couple of days prior to attend her grandfather's funeral.

Jessie was a nice, pretty girl from a well-to-do family. She and Rick had been dating for the last five months. Unfortunately, not having to work for a living left her with a lot of free time on her hands that she seemed determined to spend on Rick. Between shopping for him (as well as herself), and planning trips to whatever hot locale the 'Real Housewives of Wherever' had just traveled to; she didn't seem to be very driven to do anything else. Rick however, was immersed in his last year of law school and considered himself very driven. He was currently third in his class and once he passed the bar, was anticipating one day opening his own practice. Lately, Jessie had been trying to push their relationship into a more serious place. To Rick, it was becoming more and more obvious that they were on different trajectories. He wasn't looking forward to the unavoidable conversation he would need to have with her when it was time to return her keys.

Michonne didn't know how it was that on her only day off she still happened to be up early as hell, walking a dog that wasn't even hers. While she loved her cousin Sasha dearly, she couldn't understand why Sasha's fiance Abe would think a dog is what the two very busy women needed right now. With Sasha's job as an ICU nurse, and Michonne starting her new job as a pastry chef at one of the hottest restaurants in Atlanta; neither woman had time for a dog. Even one as cute as Buster. The little beagle was a rescue and Abe had arranged for Sasha's brother Noah to surprise her with him at her birthday party the previous week. Noah had also agreed to be the dog's primary caregiver which was supposed to include walking him. The twenty- one year old apparently decided to sleep in that morning and Sasha hadn't made it in until four after working a thirteen hour shift. That left light sleeper Michonne the job of responding to the dog's early morning whines to go out.

Michonne had only been at her new job for a little over a month and although she was exhausted, the work was extremely rewarding. She'd had a few nagging reservations over the years about her career choice, but taking this job was the step up that confirmed for her that food was her life. She was learning so much and running the small pastry crew was giving her a good foundation for when she decided to open her own bakery. The feeling of dough in her hands, the smell of melting butter, watching through the window of an oven as a souffle achieved the perfect shade of gold, all elicited a response in her spirit that surpassed any other feeling. She had found her calling.

Michonne felt a sudden burst of happiness as she took in the beauty of the morning. It was shaping up to be a lovely autumn day after the previous night's rainstorm. The air was clean and crisp. The scent of Georgia pine wafted on the cool breeze and there wasn't a single cloud in the pale blue sky. She had always enjoyed interacting with nature. This particular morning's interaction happened to include wrapping her plastic covered hand around the warm pile left behind by a relieved Buster. After depositing the recycled grocery bag into a nearby receptacle, she stretched her arms above her head and basked in the feel of the warm sun on her face. The sight of Buster attempting to stalk a wary squirrel made her chuckle to herself. But her laughter came to an abrupt end when Buster, without warning, took off after the squirrel, snatching the leash right out of her hand. Breaking into a sprint, she yelled for him to stop, calling his name in vain. The suddenly hearing impaired canine continued his pursuit, darting through trees and around bushes. The distance between them grew as Michonne tried her best to keep him in sight.

Rick thought about how to initiate his impending conversation with Jessie. His best friend Shane always believed in ending relationships in public places because he would then be able to 'make a fast getaway'. But he didn't know if that would work in Jessie's case considering her penchant for drama. The last thing he needed was to have their break up filmed and posted on social media. More important than where though, the bigger question in his mind was when. While he just wanted to get it over with, he was hesitant to add to her troubles given that she had just buried her grandfather. The loud sounds of someone yelling interrupted his reverie. Rick turned to the source of the noise, spotting a figure running swiftly toward him.

In his mind's eye it was as though everything slowed down. He was able to take his time scanning the beautiful female form approaching him. His eyes moved over her long, toned legs encased in tight denim; up her slim frame to the thin, form- fitting red hoodie which covered her lush breasts. The dappled sunlight played over her, revealing the gold tones of her ebony skin. He found himself tilting his head in wonderment at whether or not she real. He was entranced.

As she got closer, her calls broke Rick out of his stupor. Finally catching sight of the beagle running full tilt in his direction, he quickly darted out of the park and waved his arms; stopping Buster in his tracks. As he squatted down to grab the dog's leash, Michonne caught up to the pair with a huff of relief.

"Thank you so much! I really wasn't looking forward to chasing him all around the complex."

"Oh, no problem. Anytime, uh...? Rick asked, coming to his feet.

"Michonne," she replied. "And that's Buster, when he's not pretending to be Quicksilver. In fact, I should let him run off some more of that energy," she said, taking Buster's leash from Rick's hand. She led Buster to the open gate and released the clip to his collar. Shutting the gate behind her, she turned back toward Rick with a questioning look.

"Oh, I- I'm Rick," he stuttered, caught off guard by her bright smile. He took note of her full lips, deep brown eyes and long lashes.

"Hi Rick. Nice to meet you. I see you got caught in a land mine," she observed, pointing at his grungy shoe.

"What? Oh, yeah. Gotta love those responsible dog owners," he griped.

"Tell me about it."

They stood outside of the gate, watching as Buster and Bubbles circled one another, trying to assess each other's posterior. Having found the other to be acceptable, the dogs took off running across the grass; barking loudly, taking tremendous delight just in being alive."Hey, you were moving pretty fast there. You almost had him," Rick remarked, breaking the silence that had settled between them. "Oh, I doubt I could have in these shoes," she replied. "Maybe if I had my sneakers." Rick looked down at her shoes, a hint of a grimace flashing across his face. "What?" she asked, looking down at her feet.

"What, what?"

"What's that face? You got something to say about my shoes?"

"Nooo...I mean...CROCS are a fine shoe, I guess..."

"Excuse you!" Michonne sputtered bemusedly, mildly offended at his critique of her wardrobe.

"I guess I just don't get it ," he smiled apologetically.

"What's there to get?! It's a perfectly serviceable shoe," she squinted at him, the corners of her mouth curling up as she noticed just how attractive he was. He wore slim- fitting jeans over strong thighs with a cream colored henley stretched tight across his broad shoulders.

"Well- ," he pursed his full lips in mock confusion, tanned forearms flexing as he gestured at her shoes.

" they're ugly as sin, and what's with the name CROCS anyway?"

"Well, what about you and your hiking boots?" Michonne challenged.

"What about them?"

"C'mon, how much hiking do you actually do?"

"I'll have you know, these are more of an all- terrain type of shoe," Rick countered.

"All- terrain? What are you, a Land Rover in human form? Monday you're in the city, Wednesday in the desert, Friday a mountaintop? Is that how it is?"

"Actually," he chuckled, looking down at his shoes, "since it's Tuesday, I should be wearing my cowboy boots."

"Oh, are you a cowboy?"

"It's one of my alter egos. Why? Do you like to ride?"

"What?"

"Umm...What about you?" he quickly amended. "What do you do when you're not chasing down stampeding beasts?"

"I cook."

"Do you?"

"Yes I do. I'm the pastry chef at Nourris Moi."

"Really? That's impressive," he nodded, squinting at her.

"Have you been?" Michonne asked.

"No, but I've heard a lot about it. A friend of mine is always trying to get me to go with her."

"A friend, huh?" Michonne repeated, with a raised brow. "Well, you're missing out. You should go."

"Yeah, maybe...seriously though, you're a pastry chef?" he questioned in slight disbelief. "How are you able to do that job and not weigh three hundred pounds?"

Michonne laughed, "Why? Do you have a sweet tooth?"

"I have a little thing for chocolate..."

"Hmm...it's called discipline."

"Uh, yeah...don't have a lot of that..." He chewed at his bottom lip as he stared intently at her. Michonne cleared her throat, feeling flushed under his scrutiny. She inhaled and took a step back, holding her palms out at her sides.

"So am I good? Does the rest of my outfit pass inspection? Should I switch out my hoodie for something else? Cause I can, if need be?"

"No, you're good," Rick replied, scanning her body. "Everything else is working. Unless you just want to play black Barbie? I can buy you a couple of outfits, dress you up if you like...?" he boldly suggested.

"Oh really?! Black Barbie, huh?" Michonne cocked her hip, grinning at his audacity.

"Yeah, just let me know."

"Well, what about your friend?"

"My friend? Oh, Jessie?"

"Yeah, Jessie."

"Well, I don't know if she'll want to play, but I can ask her," he said with a mischievous grin.

"You're a mess," she chided as they shared a laugh at his ridiculousness.

They stood there silently appraising one another. The electric charge between them caused Rick to suck in a deep breath. He wanted to ask for her number, but considering that he was there walking his girlfriend's dog, thought doing so would be in poor taste. He probably shouldn't have been flirting with her as much as he had been, but he couldn't help himself. There was something about her. She glowed. And it wasn't just her gorgeous skin.

Michonne made her way toward the gate to retrieve Buster, deciding he'd had enough playtime and so had she. Although she was enjoying the flirty banter she'd shared with Rick, it was getting late and there was a lot she needed to do on her solo day off. She wondered if she'd see him again. She was surprised by how much she wanted to. Rick followed her into the dog park, watching her as she called for Buster. The dog ran over, trailed by a happy, panting Bubbles. Michonne's brows rose in surprise as she smirked knowingly, "Funny, I wouldn't have figured you for the poodle type." Bubbles sat back on her haunches and scratched at her ear, releasing a spray of dirt and brown flecks. "She definitely appears to have a zest for life, though."

"Yeah. She found a mud puddle and decided to go a little crazy," Rick explained. Bubbles padded over to Michonne and reared up, begging to be petted. As Michonne leaned over to greet her, she caught a whiff of something decidedly unpleasant.

"I hate to tell you this, but that's not mud."

"Wait..what?" Rick replied, feeling a sense of dread settle in the pit of his stomach.

"Yeah. I hope Jessie has some good dog shampoo."

"I don't know if she does, she usually just drops her off at the pet spa!" Rick sputtered.

"Well, you could just use people shampoo."

"Yeah, but how the hell do I get her back upstairs?" Rick groaned in dismay.

"Oh, come on. She weighs like five pounds, right?" giving him a side- eye.

"Uh, would you want to carry five pounds of shit in your bare hands?" he exclaimed. Michonne chortled in agreement as she dug in her pocket for another bag. "Well, she's small enough, so just wrap her in this," she suggested. "I've still got to catch her though," Rick realized, watching Bubbles frolic around a tree, having the time of her life. "Yeah, this should be fun." He turned, catching sight of Michonne and Buster heading toward the exit. "Hey! So you're just gonna leave me?" "Again, five pounds. I think you can handle it," Michonne smiled over her shoulder at him. "I don't know," he smirked. "Don't let her size fool you. She can be a wily one!" He strolled after her, gazing at her bottom as she bent to reattach Buster's leash.

"Well, I hope the rest of your day isn't as shitty as your morning," Michonne teased, lifting the latch on the gate.

"Really Michonne."

"I know, I'm sorry!" she laughed as he shook his head at her.

"Please tell me you're better at cooking than you are at comedy."

"I am. I swear," she assured him with a big grin.

"I don't know if I'm willing to take your word on that. I might need to see for myself," he tilted his head at her with a hint of a smile, blue eyes twinkling in the sun.

"Maybe one day, you will."