Fur and Phobia

by Julia Talbot

  Fur and Phobia

  © 2009 by Julia Talbot

  All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address Turtlehat Creatives, 1380 Rio Rancho Blvd. SE, Box 1319, Rio Rancho, NM 87124.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  ISBN: 978-0-9915589-9-5

  Previously published by Torquere Press electronic edition / 2009

  Turtlehat Creatives electronic edition / February 2015

  Fur and Phobia

  Julia Talbot

  Deb searched through her Rolodex, looking for a particular number, her long, painted nails clacking on the plastic as she flipped. The cards were all neat, organized, little labels pasted on the cards. It wasn’t an issue of organization, really. It was an issue of memory.

  Under A for ‘Aaron’?

  W for ‘Weiler’?

  T for ‘Trainer’?

  M for ‘Man’s Best’...

  Bingo!

  She grinned, plucked the car out and dialed, pencil tapping impatiently on her desk as the phone rang. And rang. And rang.

  “Oh, for the love of... Oh! Aaron, darling! It’s Dr. Ballard. How are you, dear?”

  “Hey, Doc.” Deb could hear dogs barking in the background as Aaron answered, the phone clunking against something and Aaron grunting. “How’s it hanging, lady?”

  She chuckled, pushing her curls off her shoulder. “Oh, dearest. Life is delicious, as always. It sounds wonderfully busy for you. The kennel full?” She did adore Aaron, from top to bottom. Such an interesting man, so good with dumb animals.

  “Uh-huh. And the living room, the backyard and the run...” A low chuckle came across the line, masculine and happy. “So what can I do for you, Doc?”

  “I have a client, lovely. A sweet, smart lady with a bit of a problem that I think you’re the perfect cure for.”

  “Yeah? Darn it, Mop, you big hairy freak. Get down. Sorry. What sort of a problem?”

  Deb tugged Abby’s file over, flipped it open. “She’s a horticulturist. Researches plants. Quite clever at it, too. Just finished grad. school. Unfortunately, she has an unreasonable cynophobia that’s preventing her from doing her job.”

  “Well, that’s not good. Lots of dogs out in people’s yards.” He laughed again, and she could hear the crunch of large teeth on a bone. “There, you monstrous beast. I can take the referral, sure. How do you want me to play it? Tough love or slow introduction?”

  “Mmm...” Now there was a fun question. “I can see benefits to either method. She’s not a shrinking violet, but she’s definitely a girl.”

  “Well, Doc, you’re the shrink. I don’t want to damage her psyche forever doing it the wrong way.”

  “Now, now. Are you suggesting you might do it the wrong way?” She chuckled, chewing on the end of her pen. “I’d start easy, darling. Let her relax. You can always be hard after.”

  That got a bark of laughter that had her grinning right along. Really, he had the best disposition. “Okay. Set it up for me to meet her somewhere else to begin with, then. Lunch, or something.”

  “How about Fellini’s? They’ve got a little of everything. How does tomorrow sound? Say noon-ish?”

  “That sounds fine. I’ll leave Lee in charge of the kennel. Thanks for the job, Doc.”

  “Anytime, darling. Stop by sometime for coffee. We’ll chat.”

  Well, she’d ogle. He could chat.

  “You got it, Deb. Oh, by the way, tell your cousin that she can pick up the poodle anytime. He doesn’t chew his fur out anymore.”

  Sweet, sweet boy.

  “Thank you, honey. I’ll let Abby know. Oh! Her name’s Abigail Mann. Blonde, green eyes, sweet little thing - she’ll be looking for you.”

  A low growl came through, but not an unhappy one. “Oh. That sounds nice. I’ll be looking for her too. See you, Doc.”

  “Goodbye, darling. Enjoy her and do keep me informed.”

  She chuckled to herself as she hung up the phone. That was, after all, the very best part.

  Being informed.

  ***

  “Lee! Got a referral from Deb. You’re gonna have to watch the place for a bit!” Aaron unwrapped Woofer from the umbrella stand, trying to get the big sheepdog to work on a leash.

  Lee walked out of the kennel area, wiping his hands on a big rag, smile lines crinkling around his green eyes. “You look happy about it, lover. Is she pretty?”

  His long-time partner knew him too damned well. “Deb says she’s all girl. She’s got fuzzy-phobia.”

  “Well, that could be inconvenient at a certain time of the month, baby.”

  ***

  If she could, Abby would just beat herself.

  Honestly.

  Four years as an undergrad. Three years in grad school. The perfect internship. The job offer of a lifetime and the first client she goes to see? The first yard she goes into to take samples?

  She ended up in the back of an ambulance, hyperventilating, shaking so bad she couldn’t stand.

  It was stupid. Everybody loved dogs.

  Everybody.

  People bought calendars of the awful things, even.

  She rolled her eyes, tightened her ponytail and pushed the restaurant doors open. Well, Dr. Ballard said this man was the finest dog trainer in the state, that he’d helped tons of people overcome their phobias.

  That he could help her keep her job.

  Damn it.

  The place smelled like garlic and fresh baked bread, and had that sort of careless ambiance a restaurant only got when they stopped trying. The hostess smiled at her and grabbed a menu. “I bet you’re meeting Aaron,” the perky brunette said, pausing dramatically.

  “You do? I mean, I am, but how did you know?” What? Did she have ‘Scared of Dogs. Need Help” tattooed on her forehead?

  That cute little nose wrinkled right up and the girl whapped her arm with the menu. “Well, he said he was meeting a pretty little blonde. Come on, he’s back here.”

  Oh, great. Surely that’s not how Dr. Ballard described her. She didn’t want to come off as a dingbat. She wasn’t one. She just had issues. An issue. A very specific dog-related issue.

  She made sure there wasn’t any potting medium on her hands, that her nails weren’t filthy as they headed toward the back, where the scent of garlic and butter was even stronger.

  The hostess led her to a table for two, occupied by a guy with curly brown hair, tanned skin, and a smile that just beamed when he stood to meet her.

  “Hi. Abby? I’m Aaron Weiler.”

  “Hello Mr. Weiler. It’s nice to meet you.” She held one hand out to shake, managing a real smile in response. Oh, he wasn’t hard on the eyes. At all. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

  “No problem at all. I’m always willing to lend a hand to one of Deb’s.” He actually came around to pull out her chair, his shoulder brushing hers. His aftershave smelled nice. Kind of outdoorsy.

  She got settled in, brushed a leaf off her jeans. “Dr. Ballard’s a huge help. She. I. I mean, I assume she told you...”

  “Yeah. She really only sends me phobias.” He sat too, nudged her menu over. “What do you say we just chat a little first?”

  “Okay. Sure.” God. She was a ‘phobia’. Weird. She opened her menu, looking over the different meals, none of them really making an impact. “Do you know what’s good here?”

  “The special today is a seafood manicotti. It’s intense. O
r they have a great capellini pomodoro.” His hands were large and square, scarred, with clipped, clean nails. She noticed them as her eyes wandered.

  “Intense as in spicy?” The scars were fascinating, really. Nothing like she’d ever seen before.

  “More like flavorful. It’s got plenty of spice, but man, it’s just like an explosion. Pancetta. Shrimp. This garlic parmesan marinara...” He grinned, teeth flashing again. Wow. He had bright brown eyes...

  “It sounds good.” The way he was describing it, it sounded like sex. Like really good sex.

  “It is.” He looked at her as he laid his menu down. “So Deb says you’re a landscaper?

  “Not really. My specialty is insect hardy plants. Keeping plants healthy without a bunch of chemicals to ruin the water table.” She shrugged, smiled. “It’s less boring than it sounds.”

  “Hey, that doesn’t sound boring at all. So you’re actually more like a botanist? I’m all for clean water. Iced tea, please,” Aaron told the waitress, smiling at the girl and getting a wiggle and a giggle. He was good looking enough, sure, but not stunning. There just seemed to be something about him.

  “Water with lemon, please.” Her best friend, Annie, would call it animal attraction. Of course, Annie’s specialty was primate communication and the woman saw animals and attraction in everything.

  “Are you folks ready to order?” The waitress stood poised, pen hovering over her pad, smiling at Aaron.

  Aaron looked at her. “I want the special, but if you need a few more minutes?”

  “No. No, the manicotti sounds good. I’ll have that.” If nothing else, she could eat half and take half home for dinner.

  “Great.” He waited for the waitress to leave before plopping his elbows on the table and leaning forward. “So I guess you get a lot of curious mutts wanting to say hi.”

  Curious. Right. Hungry, maybe. Toothy, definitely. “Yeah. I. People don’t keep them in as well as they ought sometimes.”

  “Oh, sometimes they just get out, too. Dogs can be pretty clever and boisterous. So. Did you have a bad experience as a kid?” He looked so earnest.

  “Not that I can remember, really. I know that I can’t. I mean, I never have been able to do the ‘aw, cute, puppy’ thing. Maybe when I was little bitty?” She didn’t know, it didn’t make any sense.

  “Okay. Oh, garlic bread.” The basket hardly hit the table before Aaron scooped up a piece, dipping it in the marinara that came with it. “Oh...”

  He closed his eyes and sorta...hummed.

  Man, if he did everything like he ate, somebody was a really, really lucky girl.

  “It’s good?” She stole a bite, nibbling. Mmm. Garlic. Butter.

  It had that little bit of crunch, but was soft on the inside. Yum.

  “Yeah,” Aaron said. “It’s good. It’s the little things in life, yeah?”

  “Yes. Yes, I think so.” She nodded, nibbling another bite. “So do you breed dogs?”

  Maybe that was where the scars came from.

  “I do. I also have a kennel for pay, and another for training. I do a lot of obedience work. Behavior modification, you know?” His eyes twinkled as he smiled at her. Yeah, behavior modification.

  “Do... Do you get bitten a lot?” At least she wouldn’t hurt him back. The worst she did was pass out.

  “No, not really. Oh, the puppies have sharp teeth, but they don’t mean anything. The one thing you need to remember about dogs? They’re generally desperate to please you. Really.”

  “Have you seen Cujo?” Not that she had, but the DVD cover had given her nightmares for a week.

  “Oh, come on, only Stephen King can make a Saint Bernard a horror villain. They’re bred to save lives.” Their salads came and Aaron waved his fork as he talked. Thankfully it was still empty.

  Of course, the image of bib lettuce and romaine flinging across the table made her smile, made the hard little ache in her belly ease. Maybe she could do this. Maybe.

  “That’s much better. You have a great smile.” Well, that look was as warm as the one the garlic bread had gotten. “So tell me what you hope to accomplish.”

  “I just don’t want to lose my job.” She met those pretty eyes, dead serious. “I can’t pass out every time a dog comes into a yard, you know? Ambulances are expensive and the sirens embarrass the college administration.”

  “Okay. I like that you’re pretty level headed about it. Some folks expect me to magically make all of their fears go away. Some do end up loving and owning dogs. Some, though, are lucky to learn to be able to look from a distance.”

  The pasta came, and damn. It smelled great.

  “I just want to stay conscious and functional.” Abby unwrapped her fork, put her napkin in her lap. “Not necessarily in that order.”

  “I bet we can do that. I assume you’d rather not just jump right in and come to the kennel.”

  Her hand started to shake and he reached out to hold her wrist. “I’m sorry. That was classless.”

  “I’m sorry. I know it’s stupid. I know.” God, why couldn’t Dr. Ballard have found someone old, ugly? Someone that it didn’t matter if she came off as the world’s biggest idiot?

  “No. It’s not stupid. I totally get it. I’m scared to death to fly. And unless you have a fear like that it’s hard to understand. We’ll go slow. How do you feel about me bringing a dog with me the next time we meet? She can stay on one side of a yard, we can stay on the other. It’ll be a good first step.”

  Those big brown eyes were so full of understanding.

  Hopefully it would be a little dog. A little trained dog. “Okay. Okay. I’ll try.”

  She could do this. She could.

  “Good. Now, take a drink of water and try the manicotti. You’ll love it. I promise.”

  He did put her at ease. He really did.

  Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  Though it really couldn’t be better than the pasta. Because damn. It was really, really good.

  ***

  “So, she couldn’t do it, huh?” Lee asked, sautéing garlic and shallots in a pan.

  “Nope. I’ve met with her four times since she called to cancel that one meet, and she just hasn’t even been able to deal with the dog hair on my pants. Bless her heart, she has a bad case.”

  “Is she pretty?” Marinated steaks slid into the pan, the sizzle telling him the pan would be just hot enough to put a crust on them, to make them rare.

  “Glorious. Blonde hair, green eyes. Curvy.”

  “Awoo. She sounds nice.”

  “She is. Damn it.”

  They’d had supper. They’d flirted, had some warm touches; a hand at the waist, fingers trailing over the skin above an elbow. He’d just never managed to get her to meet a dog. Or to let him come to her house.

  “She’ll fall to your charms, lover. Then I get to meet her, right?” One dark eyebrow went up, Lee giving him a bright grin.

  “You do. I share, you know that. I love you best.”

  Lee pulled the pan off the heat, covering the steaks with foil to let them rest before coming to put an arm around Aaron’s waist.

  “I know you do, lover. Feel free to show me.”

  Aaron took a kiss, his cock starting to take an interest in the proceedings. “Anytime, baby. Anytime.”

  ***

  “I just don’t know if I can do it, Deb,” Abby murmured, barely audible over the clack of her assistant’s keyboard out front.

  “Is it just that you don’t trust him, darling?” Deb twirled her pen, staring at the way the faux tortoise shell caught the light.

  “No! Oh, no, I think he’s wonderful. He’s really helped me out when we meet dogs out on the street. Really. I just don’t think I can deliberately put myself in the situation.”

  “Have you tried?”

&nbs
p; “I told him I would, but then I backed out.”

  Deb could hear the tears in Abby’s voice. The self-defeat.

  “Well, you’ll have to try again. Call him. Tell him you want to meet him again, this time with a dog. A small one. What is it I always say?”

  “That it’s better to face your fears in a controlled environment than to be blindsided by them.”

  “Exactly. Call him, darling. You won’t regret it.”

  “Oh, you never know. I have untapped depths of stupidity where he’s concerned.”

  “Hmm?” What on earth did that mean?

  “Nothing. Okay. I’ll call him.”

  “Good girl. See you on Tuesday, lovey.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Deb hung up, staring at the phone for a moment before shaking her head. Such an intelligent girl. So messed up about dogs, which would keep Abby and Aaron from striking up a real relationship.

  Such a shame.

  ***

  He brought Muffin. The tiny Bichon was so friendly, so happy, and had that round headed sweet look that almost anyone could love. Aaron also brought Lee, who stood across the little green area of the park and held Muffin’s leash.

  Aaron met Abby on the other side of the park. Bless her heart, he was afraid she’d keel over otherwise, the way her hands had shaken when he’d mentioned Saint Bernards or wolfhounds. God knew what she’d do when faced by a mastiff.

  There. She stood with her hands in her back pockets, looking around a little nervously. Grinning, Aaron made his way over. He’d bet she had no idea that doing that made her breasts push out at that angle.

  “Hi, there,” he said, smiling.

  “Hey. Hey. How’re you?” Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail and the scent of soil and growth all around her.

  “Good.” He was, too. The sun shone bright. The grass had that fresh cut smell. Man, he had the worst urge to play Frisbee. “How’re you?”

  “Nervous. Still full from the barbeque we had for dinner a few nights back..”

  “That brisket stays with you, huh? God, I love that.” Bouncing a little, Aaron took her elbow, really lightly, so she didn’t feel like he was forcing her. “Okay. Over there,” he pointed, “is a very small dog. We’re going to move closer, stopping when you start to feel uncomfortable, so I can gauge your reaction, okay?”