A New Leash on Love

by Debbie Burns

  She wasn’t at all crazy about the outfit she’d been asked to wear, but she’d consented because Linda, the committee chair, was so excited about it. Megan was still experiencing waves of disbelief that she was out in public dressed in a peach taffeta bridesmaid dress, complete with off-the-shoulder puffy sleeves and a large—very large—satin bow at the waist. She’d scrapped the dyed-to-match peach high-heel pumps for white sandals, or she’d likely have broken an ankle.

  Another reason she’d relented was that she’d been assigned to walk with Sledge, who was dressed as a police dog keeping the other dogs in line. Megan was playing the role of a bridesmaid who’d been arrested and would be “chained” to Sledge just before the parade started. She’d wear fake handcuffs that she could get out of, if needed.

  The funny thing was that when Megan had asked why she was supposed to have been arrested, no one had a solid answer. Hopefully they’d be moving too quickly for any of the parade attendees to ask.

  All in all, Megan determined it was just one of those things that would go down in history as proving she was one hundred percent dedicated to the shelter.

  Thankfully, the weather promised to cooperate, something that didn’t always happen on parade days. Last year, it had been hot and humid, and the last hour wasn’t fun for anyone, dog or person. The year before that, the parade was cut short due to a massive storm. A few years, the weather had been cold and windy. But today was forecast to be partially cloudy with a high in the low seventies and no chance of rain.

  And no one would have to worry about the dogs getting overheated.

  Out of view, the band at the front of the parade started to play. Megan glanced at her watch. Just five minutes till it began. She gave Sledge a pat and urged him toward the open driver’s window of the Beetle.

  “Hey,” she said, leaning forward and tugging up her costume at the same time. “Ready?”

  “Sí. You could have told them you wouldn’t wear that,” Fidel said in a fatherly tone.

  “Want to switch? You can wear this, and I’ll drive the car.”

  He chuckled. “Do you think we would get more dogs adopted?”

  “If you wore it, they’d be knocking the door down in droves, and you know it.”

  * * *

  After spotting Ashley on the other side of the road where they’d arranged to meet, Megan stopped walking to snap a picture with her phone. Fidel had kept her phone for her during the parade. After it was over and everyone was headed back, she’d barely remembered to grab it before leaving the group to meet up with her best friend. She was glad for the photo op because not only was Ashley weighted down with colorful beads and a fuzzy pom-pom headband, but she had Jake slung around one hip and was sipping a grande frozen margarita with her free hand.

  Only on parade day, Megan thought. One of Jake’s cheeks was painted with a football, the other a blue, big-eyed fish.

  “Look at you, lovely,” Ashley called as Megan neared.

  Jake pumped his arms and woofed at Sledge.

  “I see a dog in your future, girl.”

  “I see a margarita in yours.” Ashley drew Megan into a hug, and Jake dove into her arms. “If you’re too tired to go out tonight, I’m warning you now, I’ll cry. Our once-a-month Saturday night outs are about the only ‘me time’ I get anymore.”

  Megan adjusted Jake over her hip after letting him pet Sledge and narrowly stopping him from yanking off the police hat Sledge had worn so well in the parade. “We’re going out. I promise. Though it may require copious amounts of caffeine. Is Mike still picking you up from the shelter?”

  “Yeah, parking was a disaster. He’s getting the car.”

  “Good. Since I’ve lost everyone, I really don’t want to walk the streets alone in this getup.”

  “I don’t know why. You look great. Kudos to whoever picked the outfits this year. Mike didn’t even recognize you when you guys paraded by earlier. Jakey did though. Did you hear him calling your name? Meg-nan, Meg-nan.”

  “I didn’t hear it. The band was too loud, though you know how I love it when he says my name. I could tell how excited he was though.” Megan pressed a kiss into Jake’s soft cheek. “As for Mike, hopefully you didn’t point me out. I’m already worried about never living this down. Sophie and Reese and their mom were out in the crowd. I saw them about halfway through. They were standing next to two guys who wolf-whistled. It was horrible. Sophie’s coming by later, I think, but I really don’t care to see Jillian.”

  Ashley took a sip of her margarita. “Speaking of guys we’re sleeping with and telling no one but our absolute best friends about, has he called yet?” She wagged her eyebrows.

  “Funny, but no, not yet. Give me a sip of that, will you?” She handed Sledge off to Ashley and switched Jake to her other arm, since the one that had been holding him was starting to cramp. She pressed her tongue against the rim of the cup, savoring the salt mixed with the sweet frozen concoction. It was so good that she downed some more, even though she knew it would make her thirstier than she already was. The blare of the band still resounded in her ears, and the parade had been over for fifteen minutes.

  Her phone chirped as she took another swig.

  “You’re downing the whole thing,” Ashley said.

  Megan handed it over, then lifted her phone to check the number. She blinked at the extra digits.

  Craig. It had to be. No one else would call her from out of the country. Her mouth flashed dry, and her throat constricted. “It’s him.”

  “Oh my God. Answer it.”

  Feeling her shoulders tense up immediately, Megan passed Jake back to Ashley and accepted the call. She headed over to a landscaped island out of earshot.

  “Hey there, beautiful,” Craig said when she picked up right before losing the call to voice mail. “Can you hear me? I don’t think the reception’s very good.”

  She tugged at her earlobe like a schoolgirl getting a call from her first crush. “Yeah, I can hear you fine. How is everything? Are you having a good time?”

  “Yeah, everything’s great. We’re keeping busy. It’s remarkable here. I’ll tell you all about it later.”

  “That’s great.”

  “I was sorry to miss the parade. I wish I could have seen you handcuffed to Sledge. Did they ever tell you what crime you’d committed?”

  She laughed, feeling relieved and almost a little giddy. She’d focused so much on not worrying about this trip, but here he was calling, telling her she was beautiful, and apologizing for missing the shelter’s big parade moment. It didn’t sound like he was putting her out of his mind at all. “No, but I’m thinking it was a misdemeanor. Toward the end, I was released for good behavior. I’m excited to show you the pictures of the dogs when you get back. I think it was our best parade yet. I’m heading back to the shelter now. I don’t know if you heard, but Sophie’s coming by in a bit since she wasn’t old enough to walk a dog in the parade. She might even be there already.”

  “She called and told me all about it, and texted half a dozen photos too. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought those pugs were stuffed animals, they were sitting so well. I wish I’d been there to see it all in person. I’ll make it up to you for being away on your big weekend. As a matter of fact, I keep thinking how much I’m going to enjoy making it up to you.”

  A dry shiver ran down her spine and circled around her hips. He was a thousand miles away, but his lips still tickled her earlobe when he spoke.

  Focus, Megs. Like her, he was calling from outside. She could hear the wind blowing over the receiver. And something else. She strained to make it out and realized it was waves, large rolling waves.

  “There’s nothing you need to make up to me. I’d love a seashell though. And not one from a store, please. One you find on the beach.”

  “I would have guessed that. It’s genuine or nothing with
you.”

  She laughed and pictured his perfect blue eyes against the waves she could hear crashing into the shore.

  “Hey,” he said, his voice dropping, “about that care package you sent with me and asked me not to open until I arrived?”

  Her cheeks flamed matchstick hot. She knew what was coming. What kind of relationship did they have, never having discussed something as important as this in person? “Yeah, what about it?”

  “It was thoughtful, to say the least. But one thing threw me.”

  She forced playfulness into her voice that she didn’t feel. “The sunscreen?”

  “No, not the sunscreen.”

  Sucking in a breath, she went for it. “Look, I know it’s weird, but it’s something we’ve never talked about, and I didn’t know how to bring it up.”

  “So you put a couple condoms in my care package?”

  Hearing him say it, it sounded crazy. “It’s just… We aren’t exactly defined, and you freaked me out with that boys’ weekend talk. I’m not saying I’m fine with it, but…I don’t know… Diseases are rampant. Especially in tourist spots.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “And I know we both promised we’re disease-free, but now that you aren’t married, it doesn’t mean you’ll stay that way if you start…” She pressed her thumb and forefinger into her temples. “Ugh, this isn’t easy.”

  “No, it isn’t. But as long as I protect myself, you don’t care if I sleep with other people. Is that what you’re saying?”

  Sweat blossomed on her palms and under her sandaled feet. “You aren’t funny.”

  The speaker rang out with the din of someone else’s laughter, temporarily drowning out his voice. An image of him standing barefoot at the corner of a tiki-hut bar packed with beautiful women—tan and lean and gorgeous in their skimpy swimsuits—filled her mind. I don’t care what I said. Please don’t sleep with anyone.

  “I’m sorry,” he said into the silence. “I’m the king of bad jokes sometimes. You don’t need to worry. Condom or no condom, I never intended to sleep with anyone. Between you and me, I’m the bacon.”

  Her ears started to burn. The reality of how much his not sleeping with someone else meant to her crashed in with a force that nearly brought her to her knees and, inexplicably, sent a wave of nausea rolling across her stomach. The third one she’d had that day. She managed to spit something out, though she was sure it was entirely off topic to whatever he’d been trying to say at the end. “I don’t eat bacon.”

  He laughed. “Do me a favor, will you?”

  She mumbled a yes.

  “Enjoy your parade celebration. Enjoy the hell out of it. When it’s over, make a list of all the things you want to talk about. I promise we’ll talk about them. And afterward, maybe I’ll get you an outfit that goes better with those handcuffs and you can model it for me.”

  She joked that maybe she would in a million years, then matched the huskiness in his good-bye with a heartfelt one of her own. She hung up reluctantly and headed back to Ashley. Jake was standing beside Sledge, digging his chubby fingers into Sledge’s fur.

  “What does it mean when someone tells you they’re the bacon?”

  The skeptical face Ashley made showed that her friend didn’t know either. “I think it has something to do with money growing on trees.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  Ashley passed Sledge’s leash to Megan, then pulled out her phone and started typing. She scrolled through options, then raised one eyebrow. “It doesn’t have anything to do with money growing on trees. It says here it’s an expression of total commitment. It’s the difference between the chicken and the pig in making breakfast. With an egg, the chicken was just involved. The pig, however, was committed.”

  Ashley tucked her phone into her pocket and jumped, her pom-pom headband jiggling wildly. “Oh my God! He said that to you?”

  Megan’s jaw went slack. Commitment. No-turning-back commitment. That’s pretty close to love, isn’t it?

  Ashley bolted forward and draped Megan in a near choke hold, knocking over her nearly empty margarita and sending drips of half-frozen slush down her calf. “Holy crap. That means he’s the pig, sweetie. And my best friend in the world is officially completely in over her head.”

  * * *

  The front half of the shelter basked in early morning quiet as a fading stillness hung over the kennels. Soon the dogs would wake and stretch, and a chorus of claws pacing on concrete would blend with yips, howls, and whines, serenading everyone in earshot. But not yet. For a bit longer, Megan savored the temporary quiet. Coupled with the gray drizzle escaping from dark, heavy clouds, she was hardly able to keep her eyes open. Coffee. She needed coffee.

  Abandoning her confining office, she made for the front room where a fresh pot waited. A car pulling into the lot caught her attention as she headed past the large front windows. A sleek, dark-gray BMW. Her knees threatened to buckle as she met Craig’s gaze through the windshield. He winked as he opened his car door.

  Forgetting the coffee that was no longer needed as adrenaline dumped into her system, she headed for the doors and flipped the lock.

  “Hey.” Gnawing on her lip to keep her smile from spreading to her ears, she pushed open the door and breathed in his scent as his fingers closed over her elbow. There was the familiar wet cedar and leather of his cologne, but he smelled of something else too. The beach, she realized. And sun. “Welcome back. I didn’t think I’d see you till tonight.”

  His grin was just a bit sheepish. “Well, that was the plan.” Still in the open doorway, he stepped closer, holding her against the frame.

  Chance heard Craig’s voice and came trotting over to greet him like he did all the regulars. Craig knelt down to give him a proper scratch before he stood up and turned his attention Megan’s way.

  She cleared her throat as he eyed her lips. “Fidel and Patrick are in the kennels.” She could see the hunger in his gaze, the tension in his shoulders, the want in his slightly parted lips.

  He blinked once, then backed off and followed her inside. “This is for you.” He handed her a brown paper bag that sagged in the middle. “Can we talk privately a moment? About the upcoming meeting?”

  Feeling herself salivate as his eyes stayed locked on her lips, she managed a nod. “There’s my office.”

  She followed him into the cramped room, wiping her palms on the back of her jeans. They’d kissed so many times now. How could the thought of it still make her feel like a schoolgirl?

  His mouth closed over hers before the door was halfway shut. All sense of responsibility jumped ship as his hands tugged up her shirt and slid to the small of her back, drawing her against him. Being with him was like melting, or standing at the edge of a cavernous abyss. There was the taste of his skin and his mouth, clean and fresh like mint, only not the manufactured mint that reminded her of the dentist office. Swigs of the fresh mint of summer she liked to drop in her tea.

  Then there was the feel of him, lean muscle under smooth skin. Touching him reminded her of Christmas and life before Dad died, of seeing all the beautifully wrapped gifts under the tree. She’d pull one of hers on her lap at night while sitting under the sparkly lights and know that it didn’t matter if what was inside was something she’d asked for or not; it was hers, and it was perfect.

  The spray of the hose clicking off in the kennels sent blood rushing back to her brain. She stepped back, creating a shred of space between them. “They’ll know something’s up.” She rested her forehead against his chest, struggling to come to her senses and catch her breath. “I never close this door.”

  “Does it really matter?” Craig asked, tilting her chin up and running his thumb along her jawline.

  “You know it does. Sophie…”

  He blinked and slipped his hands out from under her shirt. Mouthing his daught
er’s name, he opened the door.

  Megan was still holding the weighty bag in one hand. She lifted it between them in the space that suddenly felt like a canyon and shook it softly. “Did you want me to open this?”

  “Go for it.”

  Sinking against her desk, she rested it on her thigh and unfolded it. Her jaw dropped as she pulled out a gigantic conch shell. It was the biggest she’d ever seen, bright pink and white with perfect spikes all around. “You aren’t seriously going to tell me you found this on the beach?”

  His mouth turned up in a half smile as he brushed back a lock of her hair. “As a matter of fact, I didn’t find it on the beach.”

  “No fair. You said you wouldn’t buy one.”

  After a glance toward the kennels, he let his thumb trail over her lower lip. “I didn’t buy it. I found it on the ocean floor while I was scuba diving.”

  Laughing, she shook her head. “Wow! You’re crazy, you know that?”

  “Crazy enough.” Pressing her into the corner where they couldn’t be seen from the doorway, his lips found hers again, and his fingers tugged at the button of her jeans.

  Listening to the muffled voices behind the kennel doors, she closed her eyes and savored the moment. He could have anyone, and he wanted her. They’d been together so many times now, and he wanted her as much as he had the first time. Aloud, she kept it playful. “You should become a case study, you know. So men all over the world considering a vasectomy won’t worry about it harming their libidos.”

  Craig, who was running his lips over her sternum, released her shirt collar and pulled back to look at her, his brow wrinkling. “That’d only make sense if I’d had a vasectomy.”

  As his words sank in, her stomach flipped. Not a tiny flip or a somersault. An overturned-shipping-vessel-on-rough-waters sort of flip.