by Rozsa Gaston
"Sure. I'll meet you back here at the car."
"See you in ten." She took six flyers and the tape dispenser they'd left in the car the day before then hurried off in the direction of the train station. She would post the flyers after taking care of one other piece of business.
As soon as she turned the corner of the nearest building, out of sight of the car, she stopped. With her back to the wall, she peeked around the side of the building to see what Jack was doing.
Flyers under arm, he walked toward the supermarket. After a few seconds, he reached into the left pocket of his jeans.
Hint held her breath as he pulled out the envelope, opened it, and read its contents.
She was too far away to see the expression on his face, but she was gratified to see what he did next. Crumpling both card and envelope, he tossed them in a trash bin on his way into the store. With his shoulders up and his pace quickened, he looked angry.
At the train station, she posted three more flyers then checked to see if anyone had taken any of the telephone numbered tear-off tabs off the ones they'd already posted. A few were missing. She looked at her cell phone then remembered the number posted was Jack's. He hadn't wanted her to give out her own.
"How'd you do in the supermarket?" she asked, back at the car.
"I put up two flyers. Some other lost dog and cat notices were there. One's been missing since March."
"That's three months." She winced. "It's been less than three days since Percy's been gone, and it feels like a year."
Jack glanced at her, an unreadable expression on his face. "Is that good or bad?"
"It's both." She looked at him carefully. "How about you? How's your past year been?"
"My real past year or since the dog's been gone?"
"Both."
"The former not so great, the latter good." He looked at her mouth."Capisce?"
She nodded, unable to take her eyes off his mouth, his well-shaped lips slightly open. It was like yawning — totally infectious — except that looking at him made her feel the opposite of tired. Just standing next to him made the blood race in her veins.
They walked in silence toward the garbage bins. The night was alive with early summer noises. A bullfrog's croak repeated nearby.
"Is there a pond near here?" she asked. She picked her way around a half open box of discarded potatoes. If she were a lost dog, she'd choose to spend time around here.
"The Bronx River is right over there behind those trees." Jack pointed to the dark patch of woods behind the parking lot in the direction of the Bronx River Parkway that led from Scarsdale to Bronxville.
As she glanced toward the woods, something rustled.
"Percy? Is that you? Come out, boy. Come out and get something to eat," she coaxed.
Jack stood back as she moved toward the next bin. He cocked his head, as if listening to something.
"Hey. I think there's something there. Hang on a minute." In two strides he caught up to her, catching her arm.
She was startled by his touch. Then she saw what he apparently had heard.
"Ohhhh!" She screamed as a rat with a long, naked tail scurried out from the bottom of the closest garbage bin and immediately disappeared under the recycling bin next to it.
"Comes with the territory," Jack chortled, not unkindly. He propelled her backward, away from the bins, as she caught her breath. Still holding her arm with his left hand, his right hand came up to brush back the strand of hair that had swung into her face.
"Sorry. You're right," she gasped out. "I just wasn't expecting that."
"Wasn't expecting what?" he asked after a pause, an odd expression on his face. His hand slipped from her hair down the curve of her ear to her neck.
She inhaled slowly. His question was apt. Many surprises were happening — some at the speed of light.
"A lot of things," she answered. A feeling like warm lava coursed through her body from the place where his hand touched her skin. It was as if everything around them had fallen away and time had stopped.
"How are you at handling the unexpected?" he asked, his voice suddenly low.
"Pretty good, as long as terms are well defined." She breathed out, unable to trace how or why she'd arrived at such an answer.
"I don't think that comes with the territory," he cautioned, his right hand now on her left shoulder, his thumb moving up and down the side of her neck.
"Then I can't go there. No visa." She put her own hand atop his and slowly drew it off her shoulder. En route, she guided it down the length of her bare arm then bade it goodbye. Lingeringly.
The length of Jack's body stiffened as he let out a long sigh.
"But you do have a visa," he encouraged.
"Says who?" she asked.
"I do." His right hand sought her left one.
"I think your territory's occupied," she warned.
"Definitely not."
"Are you sure?"
"No one lives within my borders." His dark blue eyes bored into hers as she allowed her hand to be grasped.
"So you say," she replied, not wanting to ruin the moment with mention of the tall blonde.
"So I do." His gaze intensified as his hand slid warmly into hers. His thumb glided over the joints and knuckles of her fingers.
She returned the caress, her fingers sliding smoothly over his.
"No ring?" she asked, slitting her eyes. His gaze was so direct she almost couldn't look at him.
"No ring," he breathed back, catching her wrist and encircling it with his thumb and forefinger.
"No ring around your heart?" she probed.
"No ring around my heart," he reassured her. "And you?" He released her wrist and found her hand, interlacing his fingers with hers. They were warm and insistent.
"This conversation is about you." She pushed him back, extricating her hand.
"I want to know about you," he persisted.
"I'll tell you." With both hands, she pressed his chest, pushing him back. "Another time."
"When?" He dropped his eyes.
"Another time," she repeated. Slowly and deliberately, she cupped her mouth and leaned up to whisper in his ear, "Let's find the dog."
Chapter Six
"Why don't we take a walk behind the restaurants on the next block?" Jack asked. "If he's got good taste in food, he'll be over there." His heart panged as sense trumped sensibility.
He couldn't stop thinking about waking up with Hint in his arms that morning. When her eyes had opened, meeting his, she hadn't looked away. From that moment on, a new story had begun between them.
"What do you think he's doing now?" she asked.
Who? Better to remain silent until he figured out what she meant. He wanted to be a hero for her. He knew he wasn't, but at least he could try as hard as possible until he blew it.
Then he remembered the dog.
"He's sniffing around for a filet mignon and wondering what happened to the full moon tonight," he said, smiling. A different set of muscles than usual contracted at the corners of his mouth. He had a large store of socially appropriate smiles, lust-fueled private smiles, sarcastic and forced smiles he had refined in the final months of his last relationship, but this was a new one. He felt something authentic when he was with Hint. That hadn't happened for a long time.
"So what happened to it?" Hint craned her neck to look up at the sky, which was blanketed with dark, warm, moisture-laden clouds. Her slender neck gleamed like marble in the faint light from the street lamps.
"Perchance 'twill rain before dawn," he remarked.
"I guess we'd better not sleep outdoors tonight," she whispered, as if musing to herself.
"'Twas a fine thing, my lady," he said, hiding behind his best old English imitation as he led the way to the back of the restaurant he had in mind, where he guessed plenty of meat scraps would be thrown out
She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes at him, her mouth twisting into an inscrutable curve. "Will our boy catch cold, o
ut in a night rain?"
"He'll find shelter, my lady."
"You're right. I don't know if it's because he's a schnoodle or because he's Percy, but he's a total wimp when it comes to rain," she said. "He'll play in the snow for hours, but rain makes him run for cover." She tossed her hair behind her, the lush fullness of it making him want to bury his face in it. Discreetly, he inhaled, catching its flowery scent.
They were outside the back entrance to one of Scarsdale's most well-known steakhouses. Jack breathed in the tantalizing smells of garlic, mixed with fine cuts of broiled meat.
Hint called for the dog as the night cloaked them in moistness. His instincts told him rain would arrive soon. He could feel the barometric pressure drop with each passing minute.
"Do you think he'll be able to find a shed or a garage to sleep in?" she asked anxiously.
"I do. And if not, it's amazing how much cover a leafy tree can provide," he said. "Especially if there's a dead, hollow log underneath," he added, feeling the opposite of dead or hollow as he tried to focus on the lost dog and not the woman next to him.
"Or a rock ledge with a cave below," she added.
They continued calling, walking to the next set of garbage bins outside a Chinese restaurant a few doors down from the steakhouse. The first drops of rain began to fall. Quickly, they ran back to the car.
Inside, Hint turned to him. "What about Tom's motorcycle over at the house?"
"What about it?"
"Do you think Percy might take cover under the tarp?"
"If he's anywhere in the neighborhood, he might."
"Let's drive by and take a look."
Within five minutes, they pulled into the driveway of their friends' home. The rain was coming down faster, a fine sheet of cooling drops to counter the warm day.
"Wait a minute. I've got an umbrella in back," he told her. He jumped out, fished in the trunk for his old golf umbrella, then ran around to the passenger side.
As she stepped out, he took her arm and led her to the lumpy object parked in front of his car. She squatted then pulled up the tarp to reveal the dim outline of the black and silver bike.
"No Percy," she murmured, as if to herself.
He groaned inwardly. It was clear that until they found the dog, the woman next to him wouldn't allow him to step across her borders. Then he saw her sad eyes, and his mind shut off, instinct taking over. He reached for her and wrapped her into his arms.
In response, her hands closed over his biceps. He flexed them, hoping she'd cling to them as if they were rocks.
"We'll find him." He couldn't think of what else to say, so he pulled her closer, careful to keep the umbrella over their heads.
"He's getting wet somewhere. He could catch cold and die."
As her hands pressed into his upper arms, the last five years of twenty-minute lunch workouts at the gym suddenly made sense. He was glad she couldn't see his expression above her head. Her face was buried in the left side of his chest, directly above his heart.
"I don't think animals die that easily. It would take more than a cold to kill him off," he observed.
"Like maybe a wild animal attacking him?" Her shoulders shook as she leaned into him.
"There's little chance of that happening around here," he reassured her, not wishing to bring up coyotes. There couldn't be too many coyotes around with such a dense human population, could there? Or could crowding drive them to more overt, aggressive behavior? He'd look it up on the Internet at the office the next day.
The rain held them hostage several minutes longer under the large golf umbrella. With Hint's small, fine body molded into his, he felt needed. Perhaps only to help her find the dog. Perhaps just to protect her from the rain and the night. Whatever the reasons, he liked the feeling.
Once again he was surprised by the nurturing instincts that seasoned his feelings of lust when he thought about her. He wasn't used to feeling protective toward an adult woman. He'd spent the final year of his last relationship protecting his own autonomy from being trampled on by his ex, with her iron will. But Hint awoke new sensations within him. Instead of feeling the need to defend himself against her, he wanted to defend her against the world. And especially against feelings of sadness or loss. Where was the stupid dog when he needed him?
The tinkle of a Bach melody interrupted his thoughts. A cell phone was ringing, not his. Hint hunted in her jacket pocket then turned away as she answered. The connection appeared to be bad, as her voice rose and she repeated herself.
"Where are you?" she asked several times. "Playa Luca? …He what? …You did?"
Apparently, a call from Punta Cana.
Trying not to eavesdrop, he walked her back to the car, so she could have some privacy while he stood outside in the rain. He didn't want her to experience the same embarrassment he'd felt the day before when Annabel had called out of the blue in Hint's backyard. And then the scene earlier that evening… His anger rose as he thought of the brazenness of his former girlfriend's note. He had no intention of showing up at the Stanhope Hotel the following day.
But what if he didn't? Would she continue to stalk him? Restless, he spotted a tennis ball under a nearby bush and went over to pick it up. Now that she'd seen Hint, the stakes were raised. He knew his ex-girlfriend too well to think she'd drop her interest because someone else might be in the picture. That would only increase the challenge for her. Annabel loved winning. She just got bored with her prizes, once she had won them.
Sighing, he walked back to the car and leaned against the drivers' side, tossing the tennis ball up and down with one hand. Who could be on the phone with Hint? Her cousin? Her girlfriends now in the Caribbean waiting for her? Whoever the special person was she'd alluded to the day before? What kind of business did anyone do at a Caribbean resort? Suddenly, he hated words and the way they confused everything. Better to be an animal and act on instinct. He wanted to get in the car, pull the cell phone out of her hand, fling it out the window, then kiss her into oblivion. Hard and fast, he lobbed the tennis ball into the dark, wet night.
****
"Jack. You can get in. I'm done." Hint tapped on the driver's side windowpane to let him know she was off the phone.
The door opened and Jack's tall frame folded into the seat. He looked at her questioningly.
"I ought to get home," she told him.
"Yeah? Business calls?" He was fishing.
He could fish all he wanted. She needed time and space to digest the events and new characters of the past two days. Especially the tall, blonde one. Who was he, to question her about her personal life?
"No. Sleep calls." She thought of the moment she'd awakened that morning. She'd been in a bed created by Jack's thick, strong arms. Closing her eyes, she tried to chase away the heady memory, but it wasn't budging.
"I'm beat too," Jack said, his face not matching his words. He shot her another questioning glance as he backed the car out of Tom and Nicole's driveway.
"What's our game plan tomorrow?" he asked, steering the car onto the main road.
What's your game plan, is what I'd like to know. She still hadn't decided what she was going to do about the note, but it wouldn't be nothing. By half past five the following day, she would have a plan in place.
"I've got some work to finish by tomorrow afternoon, but I'll make some calls in the morning, go down to the dog run, and then — what do you suggest?" She couldn't help putting him on the spot. Would he say he was busy the following evening?
"I've got to put in a full day at the office tomorrow, but I can come over to pick you up as soon as I've gotten back from the city. Will that work?"
"Yes. I guess so." He wouldn't suggest coming to her place directly after an assignation with his ex-girlfriend would he?
Come to think of it, had he ever said the tall, blonde woman was his ex? She searched her mind. He'd seemed to be on the verge of explaining something about the stranger walking toward them in the driveway of Marguerite's house.
Hadn't he said he hadn't invited her and didn't want to see her? But then they'd been interrupted. And he hadn't corrected Marguerite when she'd referred to Hint as his girlfriend. She smiled at the thought.
"That's great. Let's both think of new places to look tomorrow evening. We should have about two good hours before it gets dark," he told her.
She did some math. If it got dark by nine, that meant he'd be at her place around seven. He couldn't possibly meet Annabel at half past five on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, get down to Grand Central Station to catch a train to Pleasantville, then drive down to Bronxville to meet her all in the space of an hour and a half. Maybe he had no intention of accepting Annabel's invitation to meet at the Stanhope.
"I'll call the veterinarian hospitals in the area tomorrow morning," she said. She'd also call Kim in Punta Cana to be debriefed on how the meeting with Derek Simpson had gone. Her cousin's voice had been muffled by loud background noise. Hint guessed she had been bar-side with their friend Nina, in a less than serious mood. All Hint could make out was that Kim had said Derek Simpson was a bit of all right and their meeting had gone great. Raucous laughter had ensued on Kim's end, then the line had gone dead.
She wasn't worried, because she knew her cousin well. Kim worked hard then played hard. She rarely walked away from a meeting without getting what she wanted, or at least some of it. Hint could hardly wait to hear what she had extracted out of Derek Simpson and how.
Jack's car pulled up outside her apartment building. The rain now came down in sheets. He jumped out and ran around to her side of the car, umbrella unfolded. She got out, and together they dashed into the building.
In the foyer, she paused. "Thank you for bringing me to meet Marguerite tonight," she said.
"Thank you for coming."
"See you tomorrow." She turned to fit her key into the outer door.
"Don't you need me to walk you to your door?" he asked.
She looked at him, amused. "I think I can manage."
"But don't you want me to?" he pressed.
