When its large pink tongue lapped my hand, I let out a heavy sigh. Clearly, the dog was tired and had gone a long time without a good brushing or a bath. It was either lost or abandoned, and I didn’t feel right about sending it back into the night without at least feeding it.
I reached for my phone, cutting the music and unplugging the speaker cord. It was almost eleven, too late for any stores nearby to be open. “Guess you get what’s left of my steak, bud.” I exhaled, opening the door to the house. The dog stayed in the garage, watching me warily. “Come on.”
The dog obeyed me, its tail wagging lowly again as it padded over to me. Once it reached the wooden steps, it looked up at me with sad eyes that broke my heart a little. “Come on,” I said again, gentler this time.
It followed, lifting its front paws heavily up the stairs over the threshold. I walked to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and put what was left of the steak on a plate. Setting it down in front of the dog, I straightened.
The dog didn’t move. It sat, waiting, watching me with soulful brown eyes. “Go on then,” I instructed. The dog stood, digging into the steak hungrily.
I filled a bowl with water and carried it to the laundry room, setting it beside the freezer before I grabbed a towel from the dryer and spread it over the mat by the back door. It wasn’t much of a bed, but it’d have to do.
The dog wandered into the laundry room and paused by the bowl, lapping up the water. Rivulets of water poured from its jowls when it looked up with its tail wagging gratefully at me.
“Come here,” I said again, and the dog did I asked, laying down on the bed I’d made. I crouched, stroking its fur, rubbing its belly to relax it. It rolled onto its back, and I checked, noting that it was a boy. “Stay.” I pet it once more before standing.
Sawyer would love this. She’d been asking for a puppy for years, but Cheryl claimed to be allergic and refused all pets. I’d planned on getting Sawyer a pet at some point, but not right now. I’d barely finished unpacking.
I closed the door to the mudroom and went upstairs, thinking about the dog. I wouldn’t have time to take him into the shelter before work, so I’d have to call on my break.
The stores wouldn’t be open when I needed to leave for work, so as I laid in bed, I Googled human foods safe for dogs. Normally, I grabbed a bagel on my way into work, but it looked like tomorrow I’d be making scrambled eggs and oatmeal.
5
Sweet Addiction
Gwen
At noon on Tuesday, I glanced up when I saw movement through the office doors. Alaric stood on the sidewalk with his phone to his ear. I was just about to dive into my lunch but seeing him made me want to go get a sub just so I had an excuse to run into him.
Shoving my homemade sandwich into the bottom drawer of my desk, I picked up my purse and phone. I’d been shamelessly waiting for another opportunity to talk to him, and I wasn’t about to waste this one.
Alaric had his back to the doors, and he didn’t hear me as I slipped out, catching the tail end of his conversation. “Okay, I’ll give that a try next. Thanks.”
Sliding his phone into the back pocket of his work pants, he turned, about to head back into the shop, and caught sight of me.
I smiled, slowing my jaunt. “Oh, hi Alaric.”
“Hey.” His eyes seemed to be tracing the shape of my lips. He cleared his throat, looking conflicted.
“Everything all right?” I asked, tilting my head, hoping his discord had something to do with the wanton way his gaze swept over my hips. It was a beautiful May morning, and I was feeling pretty in a peppy little dress. It was black with tiny white dots, with a bow that tied the slit from my neck to my collarbone together.
“Yeah,” he replied, seeming to stand taller. “I’ve got to get back to work though.”
“Right. I need to get lunch. See you around,” I said, brushing past him on my way to my car. His head turned as I moved by him.
“Gwen,” he said, and I halted, pivoting to face him. “You wouldn’t happen to know the name of any dog rescue groups, would you?”
“Not off hand, why?”
“A stray dog wandered into my garage last night,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “The shelter said they were overcrowded.”
“Aww!” I squealed, unable to help myself. Although I considered myself a cat lover, I couldn’t resist animals of any type. “Stray dogs tug at my heartstrings. Those Sarah McLachlan commercials kill me every time.”
“Yeah, well. Do you want it?”
“No way. My landlord would kill me. He hates that I have a cat,” I replied, shivering. I tried to keep my interactions with Greg limited. The man gave me the creeps. “Tell you what, I’ll do some research. Come to find me at the end of the day, and I’ll have a list with some numbers.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” He looked relieved.
I smiled and turned, walking toward my car. I didn’t chance another look at him, but I could feel his gaze on the back of my thighs as I walked away. It was enough knowing I had his attention. Besides, I had an excuse to see him later. Unlocking the door, I climbed into my car.
When I looked up, my eyes locked on his. I smiled again, this time just a little half grin that I hoped conveyed playfulness and not a creepy-stalker vibe. It was hard to tell without a mirror to practice, but I saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, so it must have worked in my favour.
I spent the rest of the afternoon researching rescues and writing down numbers. At five o’clock, I started getting ready to leave for the day, the list tucked into my skirt pocket. Yeah, the dress had pockets, which had been the only reason why I’d bought it.
Well, maybe not the only reason, but still. Dresses with pockets were the shit, and after the breakup, I decided to go a little online shopping happy and buy myself a new wardrobe. Not my smartest decision, but at least I had an endless supply of cute outfits.
Every so often, my eyes darted to the shop door. I worried my lip, wondering if I should slip in and hand the list to him. After all, I’d told him to come to find me, and I was supposed to be playing it cool.
The goal was to get him to chase me, not to follow him around like a lost puppy. Apparently, he already had one of those.
I stood, about to start shutting off lights and locking up, when Alaric walked through the metal shop door.
“Hey.” He lifted his bearded chin in greeting.
“Hey. I’ve got the list of local rescues for you,” I told him, pulling it from my pocket. Alaric’s eyes tracked the movement, and his fingers brushed against mine as he took the paper from me.
“Thanks again,” he said.
“Don’t mention it.” I waved my hand. “Although…” I bit my lip, considering.
“Although what?”
“Well, I’m not sure how quickly the rescues will be able to get to you. There’s a pet store downtown that’s very knowledgeable with pet care. I’ve gone there with questions about Dahmer before. I wrote the address down for you.”
“Do they have grooming there?” he asked, his brow furrowing.
“I believe so.” I nodded. “But I think it might be self-serve.”
“A self-serve dog wash?” he repeated, arching his eyebrow, amused with the concept.
“Yeah. Places that’ll do it for you usually make you book an appointment.”
“If he’s going to stay even temporarily, he needs a bath.” He sighed, sounding displeased.
“Tell you what—I’ve got to go there for cat food. I’ll head home and change, and you go get the dog. I’ll help you give it a bath.”
“Why would you do that?” he asked, chuckling.
“Like I said, I’m a bleeding heart. Even though I can’t take him, I’ll help you find him a home. Plus, I have experience with this. I did my high school volunteer hours at a dog groomer’s,” I added, winking.
He exhaled deeply, considering me. “All right. Give me an hour, though, I don’t live in town.”
“Okay.” I smiled. “I need to lock up the office and change. I’ll see you then.”
Alaric looked a little surprised by my dismissal, but a ghost of a smile appeared on his lips, and he nodded, walking back through the shop door. I locked it and grabbed my purse, heading for the glass doors, feeling giddy with possibility.
I sped home, changing into a pair of black yoga pants and hesitated before the Batman t-shirt. Nibbling on my bottom lip, I tugged on a Wonder Woman t-shirt instead, twisted my hair up into a messy ponytail and fussed over my reflection in the mirror.
The insecure, naïve girl I used to be in high school poked her head up, muttering knock-me-down comments about how out of my league Alaric was. I shoved the bitch back in her box; I worked too hard to let her take me down again.
Before leaving, I topped off Dahmer’s food bowl, purposefully not acknowledging the almost-full bag in the cupboard. So what if going for cat food had been an excuse? There was no harm in stocking up, and I wanted to help Alaric with the stray dog.
And yeah, maybe I wanted to spend a little more time with him. I’d be mad not to hope for a repeat when the night between us still lingered.
It didn’t help that I constantly revisited that night in my mind, drawing inspiration for my novel from it.
I called him dickspiration because his dick was my inspiration. Or at least, the way his dick had made me feel that night. I wouldn’t mind reliving it. For research purposes, of course.
Grabbing my bank card, wallet, and phone, I walked out to my car. It didn’t take me long to drive to the pet store, and I parked against the curb out front, behind Alaric’s truck.
My heart thumped with nervous anticipation as I pushed open the door and strolled inside the pet store, my eyes moving to the back of the room, where the dog wash was set up. I could see Alaric trying to coax a large black dog into the stall.
The dog must have weighed a hundred pounds, if not more, but Alaric picked it up as if it weighed nothing, lifting it into the stall. He tied the leash up to the hook and paused to stroke the animals’ face. He spoke quietly to him, murmuring words I couldn’t make out.
“Who’d have thunk it; you’re a big old softie underneath that tough exterior,” I remarked, my voice making my presence known. Alaric glanced at me as I leaned against the tile wall. I held my hand out for the dog to sniff, offering him a playful smile. “How’d you find him again?”
“I was working on a project, and he walked right into my garage.” Alaric stroked the dog’s face with his eyes still on me.
“Were you welding?” I teased.
“Maybe,” he replied, the corner of his lip lifting up.
“Really?” I laughed. Shaking my head, I studied the dog thoughtfully. He was docile and friendly, although he appeared to be a little nervous about the bath stall. “We should probably cut the matted fur out before we try and wash him. I think it’ll hurt him if we don’t.”
“Okay.” Alaric gave me a full-blown smile, and I nearly swooned at the intensity of it. I exhaled, glancing around the shop.
“Excuse me,” I said, noticing an employee stocking the aisle nearby. “Do you happen to have scissors we could borrow?”
“Absolutely. I’ll grab them for you,” she said, disappearing behind the cashier counter. She walked over with the scissors, handing them to me. She studied the dog with a frown, taking in his state before her gaze shifted to Alaric, her lips pursing as she assessed him too.
“He showed up at my friend’s house last night. We think he’s a stray. Thought we’d clean him up a bit before posting his picture online,” I explained, and her eyes softened.
“Poor thing!” she remarked. “I hope you find his home! Let me know if I can help you with anything else.”
“Thank you,” I said, and she walked away. Without another word, I set to work cutting out the mats with an expert hand. I wasn’t joking when I’d told him I’d completed my volunteer hours at a dog groomer’s.
Once I finished the fur on my side, I moved around toward Alaric’s, shifting closer to him until I was standing less than an inch away. With that done, I showed Alaric where to put in coins to get the water and shampoo dispenser to work. He stood five inches behind me, looming over me. His scent overwhelming my senses in the best way.
I stepped from his space and grabbed the hose, walking around the dog, speaking gently to him as I sprayed the warm water. Handing the hose to Alaric so he could start the other side, I lathered the pup.
It was difficult not to glance up at Alaric every three seconds just to catch a glimpse of his god-like beauty. He’d pulled his blond hair back in a bun, and he was wearing a black t-shirt that did little to hide his muscular build. The muscles in his tattooed forearms worked as he lathered shampoo into the dog’s head.
And it was really hard to not think about the last time I was with Alaric in a somewhat similar setting. Sans dog, of course.
Somehow, I managed to keep it together throughout the two baths the poor dog needed. He wasn’t a fan of the hairdryer, but once the employee brought beef liver treats over, he stopped fighting it and let it happen, growing to like the warm air, so long as it wasn’t blowing directly on his face.
It took almost two hours, and my shirt was soaked and clinging to my body, but by the end of it, the dog looked completely different. His fur was silky to the touch and a shiny black, and his tongue lolled from the side of his mouth. Alaric reached to unhook the leash, and the dog lapped at his face happily.
I grinned. “He probably feels a thousand times better now,” I said, sighing inwardly at the beautiful sight of a handsome man loving on a dog. “I know I do when I work out the tangles in my hair.”
Alaric chuckled. “Me too,” he admitted, glimpsing me, still rubbing the big dog’s ears. His eyes heated when they lingered on my skin-tight, wet shirt, but I pretended not to notice.
“He suits you,” I commented. He glanced back down at the dog and shrugged a little. Tall Norse god of a man and massive beast of a dog. They went together like peanut butter and jelly. “You should keep him.”
“We’ll see. I still want to try and find his owners.”
“He might be microchipped,” I supplied. “If you take him to a vet, they’ll be able to check.”
Alaric nodded, watching me deliberately. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “Thanks for your help tonight, Gwen.”
“You’re welcome,” I said. Less is better, less is better, I repeated inwardly, trying to calm my libido and think rationally. I drew in a breath, smiling again while Alaric led the dog out of the bath stall. “Do you want me to take a picture for the rescue groups before I get going?”
“Sure.” He looked at the dog. “Sit,” he instructed. The dog sat at Alaric’s heels in front of the aisle. He pulled his phone from his pocket and passed it to me. I snapped a few pictures, getting different angles, and handed it back, resisting the urge to take a few using my own phone.
I scratched behind the dog’s ears. Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I looked up at Alaric, feeling the heat behind his gaze. “If you do keep him, you should name him Tig. Since he interrupted your welding project,” I added.
“Tig, huh?” he repeated, looking down at the dog.
“Or not,” I shrugged, moving toward the door. “See you later.”
“You forgot the cat food,” he called out.
“Right.” I turned, heading for the cat food aisle. I grabbed a bag from the shelf, my cheeks on fire. Alaric nodded at me when I passed, and I went to pay while he wandered to the dog food aisle.
I tried not to look back as I left, and it took all the strength I had, but I made it to the car without peeking over my shoulder.
I drove home and parked outside of my building. I’d nearly reached the door when it opened, and Greg the slumlord stepped out, shaking his head darkly.
Noticing me, his thin lips curved in a leering smile. “Gwen. Just the girl I was looking for. Do you have my rent cheque?”
&nbs
p; “Yes,” I said, thinking of the envelope on my table. It contained six months’ worth of post-dated cheques. So far, Greg had never crossed a line, but his creepy watching made me uncomfortable enough to remove the requirement of dealing with him. “I’ll bring it out.”
Instead of waiting outside, Greg followed a little too closely behind me. The hair on the nape of my neck stood up in warning, and I could have sworn I heard and felt him sniffing me.
Mrs. Hewitt chose that moment to open her door. I took advantage of her sudden appearance and put as much distance as I could between myself and Greg.
“Oh good, it’s about time you showed up! I’ve been calling you for weeks now about the leaky faucet in my bathroom!” she barked.
“I told you, Mrs. Hewitt, I’ve got a call into a plumber. He should be coming by tomorrow evening, between five and eight.”
“You’re a man, aren’t you?” she snapped. “Men are supposed to know these things. Go in and look at it yourself.”
I’d never been more thankful for my neighbour than I was in that moment. With Greg distracted, I was able to quickly grab the envelope off my table and thrust it at him.
“Six months of post-dated cheques,” I said, sending Mrs. Hewitt a grateful smile before closing my door and locking it—the deadbolt, the chain, and the knob.
Still, I felt revolted. I shivered and walked away from the door. In instances like this, I missed having Erik around—or at least someone else, to deal with the pervy landlord so I wouldn’t have to. At least I’d bought myself another six months.
Dahmer let out a pressing mewl, demanding my attention. He jumped from the sofa into my arms, and I caught him, cuddling him close to me. As he purred, I relaxed, pushing the icky feelings away, choosing to focus on the good things instead—like the fun I’d had with Alaric and the stray dog.
As if sensing my thoughts—or finally figuring out the strange scent on me was a dreaded dog—Dahmer let out an angry yowl and kicked off my chest, his claws digging in as he pushed off me.
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