Chucky was even more hyper than usual, and hustling to keep up with him made me wish all over again for shorts and a tank top.
When were just a couple blocks away, Chucky went nearly berserk, yapping and straining at his leash and dragging me at an unseemly pace toward Lawton, who watched the spectacle with a look of amusement in his dark eyes.
I was half out of breath by the time Chucky dragged me toward him. And that's when I noticed it, a shiny bag in Lawton's hand. The bag looked familiar. Too familiar.
I stopped a few paces away and narrowed my eyes. "Are those doggie treats?"
"This?" He held up the shiny bag. It was already open, and it made a crinkling sound as he shook it. "Yup."
Chucky went nuts, straining at the leash and yapping like crazy. The man was too devious for words. I couldn't help but laugh. "Trying to get me killed?"
"No," he said. "Trying to get you to stop."
By now, Chucky was jumping up on Lawton's jeans. He was yapping more ferociously than before.
"Care if I give him some?" he asked.
"At this point," I said, "I think you'd better – unless you want to get eviscerated." In truth, the only thing Chucky was capable of eviscerating was a pile of bacon, but it seemed undignified to admit it.
Lawton squatted down and gave Chucky a couple of the treats. He ruffled the fur on Chucky's head as the treats disappeared in record time.
When he stood back up, Lawton gave me a heart-stopping grin. "Want some company?"
The offer took me off guard. From everything I'd read and seen, he wasn't the kind of guy who'd be caught dead doing anything so normal as walking a normal, if hyper, dog, around a normal, if upscale, neighborhood. What was going on?
When I didn't answer, he pointed at his feet. "Look," he said. "Shoes."
I laughed. "And a shirt too."
He grinned. "Just for you."
"Really, you shouldn't have."
I said it as a joke, but I wasn't totally sure I was kidding. Sure, he looked great in a shirt, but he looked even better without it. Not that I really wanted him to walk around the neighborhood shirtless. True, I liked looking at him. Who wouldn't? But sometimes there's a fine line between sexy, and well, weird.
Of course, ninja penguins were weird. So was a paper bag full of breakfast snark. If I were lucky, we'd never speak of it again.
Lawton held out a hand for Chucky's leash. "Want me to take him?"
It was a tempting offer, but walking Chucky wasn't the easiest job in the world. I was a semi-professional. Lawton had probably never walked a dog in his life.
Even with little dogs, it wasn't half as easy as it looked. Between tangling the leash around street signs, trees, and anything else we came across, and lunging after squirrels, Chucky always made it a lot trickier than it should've been.
I handed Lawton the leash. "You can try," I said. This should be good for a few laughs.
We started out at the usual uneven pace, with Chucky pausing every so often to water the bushes, and bounding ahead every so often to chase after whatever caught his attention, real or imagined. But after a couple of blocks, we'd fallen into a nice rhythm. I didn't want to admit it, but Lawton handled Chucky easier than I did.
After a while, Lawton said, "About yesterday –"
"Forget it," I said. What happened on the Parkers' front steps was the last thing I wanted to talk about. I'd made a total fool of myself.
"Not gonna happen," he said.
I stopped and gave him a look. "Excuse me?"
He stopped, too, turning around to face me on the sidewalk as Chucky tried unsuccessfully to drag him in the other direction. "You're not getting off that easy," he said.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean," he said, "I can't forget it."
"Why not?" I demanded.
He looked at me for what seemed like a long time. As the time passed, I felt my face grow warm, and probably not just from the sunshine. When he finally spoke, his voice was oddly quiet. "I dunno. I just can't."
"You just don't want to," I said.
"Probably."
For Chucky's sake – the dog was about to go nuts – I started walking again, and Lawton fell in beside me.
"Look," he said, "I know what you were thinking, me showing up so early, but that wasn't it."
"Oh." That was a relief. Sort of.
"I saw the tag when I got into my car, and I knew you wouldn't want Chucky running around without it."
"He's not supposed to run around, period," I said. "Well, not without me, anyway."
Lawton said nothing, and I snuck a sideways glance at him. Even in long sleeves, I saw hints and shadows of the muscular form underneath. There were things I'd like to ask him, things about the reality show and his fights, but somehow, I didn't want to be just another stalker-chick digging into his business.
Thanks to my computer, I'd done that enough already.
When he changed the subject to movies, it was a huge relief.
Walking with him was totally surreal. He acted just like a normal guy, sometimes funny, sometimes serious. We talked about nothing in particular as we made our way along the sidewalk. The thing that wasn't completely normal was how quickly time flew.
We were in front of the Parkers' before I knew it.
"Thanks for the walk," I said, reaching for Chucky's leash.
Lawton grinned, holding it just out of my easy reach. "You sure you can handle him?"
"Oh please," I said, rolling my eyes.
"Please what?" he said, his voice full of hidden meanings that I didn't dare decipher.
I reached up and snatched the leash away from him. I never did answer. Instead, I gave him a quick goodbye and headed straight down the Parkers' long driveway. When I reached the front door, I glanced over my shoulder and saw him standing on the sidewalk, waiting for me to get inside.
It was a funny habit, but I found myself smiling at the thought of it. I gave him a quick wave, unlocked the door, and went inside along with Chucky.
Chapter 13
Later that afternoon, I was sitting at Grandma's kitchen table, sipping hot chocolate and telling her and Josh all about my job offer. Josh had just gotten out of school, so the timing was perfect. "It's an accounting job," I was telling them. "The company sells car parts, stuff like mufflers and alternators."
Her house was rented, and it was tiny – one bedroom, one bathroom, a cozy kitchen, and small living area with windows overlooking the gardens of the much larger house that the cottage belonged to.
Technically, Grandma's place was a guest house, but it served her purposes – and mine – almost perfectly.
There was only one problem. Her landlady was a psycho. And her name was Loretta, my Dad's wife. But I wouldn't think about that now. Today, I'd only think about happy things, and that definitely didn't include Loretta.
"And I start in five weeks," I said. "Mid-November."
"Why so long?" Grandma asked.
"I'm replacing someone who's retiring," I explained. "They're leaving at Thanksgiving. This gives us like a week overlap for training." I smiled. "But then, the job's all mine. Can you believe it?"
"Hell yeah, I believe it," Grandma said, reaching out to give my hand a playful swat. "I just knew you'd get that job."
"Yeah, but you've been saying that about every job," I said. "And none of those panned out."
"Hah!" Grandma said. "Those other jobs sucked."
I raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
She nodded. "Yeah. Total shitholes, every one of 'em."
Laughing, I turned to Josh. "Now, remember – "
He held up a hand. "I know, I know. Just because Grandma says 'shithole,' it doesn't mean I can say 'shithole.'"
I squinted at him. "You just did. Twice."
"That?" He grinned. "Nah. That was purely for illustrative purposes."
I laughed. "Well, if nothing else, I'm glad to see your vocabulary extends beyond four-letter words." It wasn't all that surprising.
Josh had always been smart. He was in the gifted program at school and already planning for college. I might worry about his home life, but I never worried about his grades.
But I did have to worry about his school in more general terms. He was in a good one. And he needed to stay in a good one, which meant he couldn't move. He needed to stay right where he was, with my Dad and Loretta. This meant Grandma had to stay right where she was too, next door to my Dad.
It was a complicated, but convenient arrangement. With Grandma nearby, Josh always had a place he felt welcome, no matter what happened. In my view, that made all the difference in the world.
"Shithole has eight letters," Grandma told me. "Count 'em, Smarty Pants."
Smiling, I shook my head. "Enough. Both of you. I've given up swearing, remember? You're not helping here."
"Yeah, right," Josh said. "You're worse than all of us."
"Not anymore," I insisted. "So, about the job, what do you think? Car supplies, pretty cool, huh?"
"Totally," Josh said. "Mom's gonna be so excited. She loves car stuff."
I felt my smile freeze. Mom wouldn't give a crap one way or another, at least not in the normal sense. "Yeah," I said, keeping my tone light, "I'll have to give her a call."
Even if I did, she probably wouldn't answer. But Josh didn't need to know that. He still thought she left by necessity, not by choice.
Josh had just turned thirteen. When I was thirteen, I'd felt ancient. But Josh, he had a sunnier disposition. Plus, I'd worked hard to spare him the worst of our parents' flaws. He might be a teenager now, but it still seemed far too early to shatter his illusions. "I'm sure she'll be excited," I said.
Yeah, she'd be excited alright. She'd probably ask me for a loan. I glanced at my phone. My waitressing shift started in a couple hours, and I still needed to give Chucky his afternoon walk. "I've gotta run," I said.
"On your way out, can you drop off some work at the mail shop?" Grandma said.
"Sure," I said, heading toward the side table where she kept the blue bin of mailing materials. The envelopes were there, all lined up and stuffed with flyers.
Grandma's job was stuffing envelopes from home. It didn't pay a lot, but it was easy work, something she could do while chatting with Josh or watching her favorite programs. It covered her rent on the cottage, and had gotten her out of the crappy, low-rent apartment she'd been living in after she'd lost her house, thanks to my deadbeat mother.
I picked up the bin, said my goodbyes, and headed out to my Ford Fiesta. It was a total beater, but had an eclectic look that might pass for fashion with my upscale clients. It ran okay, most of the time, but it wasn't exactly roomy. I set the bin on the passenger's seat and headed out of the long driveway.
On the way, I passed the house where my Dad lived with Loretta. It was an impressive place, brick, two stories, a lot like the Parkers', except for the fact it had a guest house. The garage was shut, and the shades were drawn. They both worked days, so I was spared the obligation of stopping by.
Dad and Loretta were funny like that. If I stopped by, they made me feel unwelcome. But if I didn't stop by, there'd be hell to pay later on. I could take it, but Josh couldn't, which was why I made a point to stop by Grandma's on weekdays.
Halfway to the Parkers', I swung by the recycling center and dumped the envelopes into the paper-and-cardboard bin, watching as they scattered over old cereal boxes and newspapers.
After that, I hit the office supply store to buy more envelopes and paper. Maybe this time, I'd do a flyer for cat supplies. My Grandma adored cats. She'd probably like that.
Chapter 14
When I walked Chucky the next day, Lawton wasn't exactly waiting for me. But he did happen to walk out his front door when I walked by his house. It might've been planned, or it might've been a spur-of-the-moment thing. I didn't ask, and he didn't say either way.
He did, however, have another bag of treats in his hand for Chucky, who had apparently decided that Lawton was the best thing since grilled steak, or maybe a designer purse. Looking at Lawton, I had to agree, but for entirely different reasons.
If Lawton were a treat, he'd be the kind that smart girls avoided. His body was too sinful, his reputation too dangerous, his face too hypnotic. It would easy to fall for him, and even easier to believe I could somehow mean more to him than some passing fling.
But he wasn't treating me like a fling. He was treating me like a friend. This was a good thing, or at least that's what I told myself. Flings came and went. Friends were harder to come by, especially for someone like me, who lived in one world and worked in another.
When he offered to take Chucky's leash, I didn't argue.
We'd gone only a couple of blocks when he said, "I always wanted a dog."
I turned my head to look at him. "Really? Then why don't you have one?"
He shrugged. "Too hard to take care of."
"Oh c'mon," I said, "they're not that hard. Besides, you're great with dogs."
"Yeah, but I'm gone a lot."
Not from what I'd seen. For someone with so many business projects – assuming everything I'd read was true – he seemed to spend an awful lot of time just hanging around the neighborhood.
"You're not gone that much," I said. "I see you around here all the time. Like almost every day."
His gave me a crooked grin. "Yeah? You been watching for me?"
"No. Of course not." I felt color rise to my cheeks. "It's just, well, I – "
He laughed. "Just kidding. Truth is, I have been around a lot more lately. But it's not always like this."
"So why is it now?" I asked. "Are you on vacation or something?"
"Something like that."
"You're not gonna tell me?"
He stopped walking. Slowly, he turned to face me. "You can't guess?"
As I met his gaze, I almost forget to breathe. The autumn breeze played with the loose ends of his tousled hair, while the rest of him was a study in stillness. His eyes met mine, and I felt my lips part. He leaned his face toward mine, and time all but stopped.
Unfortunately, Chucky didn't.
With a series of frantic yips, he tugged against his leash, breaking the spell as Lawton and I glanced in his direction. A squirrel was darting up a tall oak tree. Chucky was straining against the leash, barking as if his very life depended on it. The squirrel stopped on a high branch, chattering as it looked down on us.
I gave a nervous laugh. "I think it's taunting us."
Lawton looked up. "Probably," he said, not sounding too happy about it.
I started walking again, and Lawton followed suit. Our casual pace was a stark contrast to the tumult of my emotions. Behind us, the squirrel was still chattering, but Chucky had moved on, his attention caught by a slow-moving mail delivery truck a couple blocks ahead of us.
Probably, I should've been annoyed. The squirrel, Chucky, even my own reservations, they were wreaking havoc on the realization of what I'd almost done. I'd almost kissed him. And I was pretty sure he'd almost kissed me back.
I was glad that didn't happen.
Sort of.
Yeah, it would've been heavenly. But I wasn't about to have an impromptu make-out session with some guy I barely knew, on the sidewalk, in a neighborhood where I was house-sitting. It was insanity, at least by my standards. If any of the neighbors put two and two together, I'd probably get fired.
"So," I said, trying to pretend it hadn't happened, "why don't you get a dog of your own?"
When he didn't answer, I gave him a sideways glance. His eyes were straight ahead, and he looked a million miles away. I returned my gaze to the sidewalk and picked up the pace.
We'd gone a full block before he finally spoke. "Because then," he said, "I couldn’t borrow yours."
"Oh c'mon," I said. "Be serious. Why don't you?"
"Maybe it's not fair to leave 'em alone," he said.
"You could always get a dog-walker. Or a house-sitter," I said, feeling incredibly awkward even as
I said it. Somehow, it felt like a lie by omission. I should've stated the obvious. I was such a person.
Lawton snorted. "Yeah, like I'm gonna trust some stranger with my dog. You hear stories." He stopped to let Chucky water the bushes. "And if anyone harmed my dog, well –" He clamped his lips together and looked away. "I wouldn’t like it."
Unspoken, but completely apparent, was what he didn't say. It wasn't only that he wouldn't like it. He wouldn't put up with it. I glanced at the powerful hand that held Chucky's leash. The fist was tight, with white knuckles that had flexed convulsively as he spoke.
"You don't even have a dog," I said.
"Yeah," he admitted. "See what I mean?"
"No," I said, laughing. "You're all worked up about some stranger mistreating your dog, and you don't even have one."
"I'm not worked up," he said.
I glanced at his hands. "Really?"
He looked down, following my gaze. Slowly, he loosened the muscles in his hands and gave me a crooked grin that sent my world spinning.
"So, uh, did you have a dog growing up?" I asked.
His smile faded. "No."
I waited for him to elaborate. He didn't. From what I'd read, his home-life hadn't been spectacular, but the details had been vague, with veiled references to social services and time on his own. No wonder he didn't want to talk about it.
When he changed the subject to current headlines, I didn't fight it. It was pretty obvious he was finished with talking about himself, and I was in no position to judge. In truth, I wasn't eager to talk about myself either.
Even if I were looking to tell my life-story, where would I start? With the fact that I was merely the house-sitter? That particular topic was definitely off-limits. The Parkers had a strict confidentiality clause. Most of my clients did, for obvious reasons. There was no quicker way to get robbed than to advertise that a homeowner was out of town.
Before I knew it, we had circled back to the Parkers'. Turning toward me, Lawton asked, "Got any plans for tonight?"
My heart skipped a couple of beats. Was he actually going to ask me out? No, I reminded myself. Guys like Lawton Rastor didn't ask girls out. He'd let the girl come to him, ready, willing and able. And maybe, if the two blondes were any indicator, one girl by herself might not be enough.
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