My only objective was to get the possible projectiles away from her. “That’s quite all right.” I grabbed the box from her. “Good luck with everything.” And please don’t ever contact me again!
I doubted this wish would be granted.
Mom and I shoved everything into the back of the truck and took off, heading north to her place in silence. It was so embarrassing to think of the emotional scene my mother had just witnessed. I knew she had to be sitting there wondering how on earth she’d managed to raise a daughter so naive as to wind up living with a woman that was out of control.
After a minute of silence, Mom gave me a reassuring smile. “Well, dear, all I can say is the next time I see the real Keith Terrington, I’m going to kill him.”
The next morning, I woke up disoriented, finally remembering that I was in Mom’s guest room. She’d left a note that she had some early morning lessons and was already at the airport. For his sake, I hoped none of those lessons were with her “former favorite student, Keith Terrington,” as Mom was still furious with him.
I had a delightful breakfast with our three dogs, debating which of the three I should bring with me to introduce to Suzanne as part of her treatment. She’d already met Doppler, with whom she’d exchanged barks. Pavlov, however, was generally too dignified to indulge in verbal exchanges with such a small dog. She so vastly outsized the little toodle—terdle? pooier?—Suzanne would be well-taught not to bark at such dogs.
Keeping Pavlov in my car till I could warn my dog-fearing officemate, I entered my office. To my surprise, Russell was just hanging up my phone. “Good morning,” he said, smiling brightly. He was dressed neatly as usual, his pin-striped shirt hugging his short but nicely proportioned frame, and his dark hair shimmered as though it had just been washed. “You just got a weird phone call.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I, uh, it happened to be ringing while I passed through your office.” That made little sense, as Russell likely arrived at least two hours earlier, but I let it pass. He went on, “I picked up, and a deep voice said, ‘Who’s this?’ And I said, ‘Russell Greene. Who’s this?’ and he hung up.”
“I seem to be getting quite a few hang ups lately.”
Russell glanced at the desktop where I’d already found his card, then gave me a nervous grin and rocked on his heels.
“Thanks for the card. I’d give you a thank you card for it, but then you’d feel obligated to give me a thank you card in return, and we’d find ourselves trapped in a never-ending Hallmark circle.”
“Ah, yes. That could be problematic. I’m glad you liked my card, though.”
“I have both a warning and a confession for you.”
Russell wiggled his eyebrows. “This has potential. Go on.”
“I have my very large German shepherd in the car, and in a few minutes, I need to bring her in to work with my next client.”
Russell’s face fell. “That would be your ‘warning,’ right?”
“Yes. The confession is that I slept on the couch in your office Saturday night. I had some trouble with my roommate. I tried to put everything back the way I found it, but if you find any odd items, they’re probably mine.”
“Haven’t come across anything new. Just some dog hair,” Russell said pleasantly.
“Those would only be mine indirectly. I went over your couch with the handheld vac, but I’ll bring in my Kirby and—”
“No, it’s fine. Please don’t bother. Are you looking for a new place to live?”
“Yes. Know of anything?”
“Not anything you’d agree to.” He glanced nervously over his shoulder, in the direction of my parking space. “About this shepherd of yours. Does he like men? Do I have to be sure not to wear a hat around him or anything?”
“Her. Pavlov’s a female. Yes, to men, no to hat sensitivity.”
To my surprise, Russell’s face had paled and beads of perspiration were rising on his forehead. I hadn’t expected him to react quite this strongly. Even so, he replied, “By all means, bring her in. I want to meet both of your dogs.”
“I’ll understand if you want to wait in your office till after Pavlov’s gone.”
“No, no. I mean it. I want to meet your pets. It’s just that I’d hoped to start with getting to know the cocker spaniel and work my way up. But this way’s faster. We’ll start with the abject terror part and see if we can move toward mild discomfiture later.”
I was caught between wanting to chuckle at his overreaction and being annoyed at his thinking he had anything to fear from my extremely well-trained, highly intelligent shepherd. “On that note, I’ll go get her.” As an afterthought, I grabbed the long leash attached to the training collar. “Listen, Russell. I’ll put this on Pavlov just so you can be assured I’m in complete control of her actions. The best way to approach a dog is to walk steadily and confidently, then turn so that you’re side by side.”
He nodded. “Sideways. Got it.” He gave me a small salute. “No problem.”
I smiled at him, then left for the car. The poor guy. He was acting as though he’d had some sort of traumatic past event involving a dog. If so, he’d never shared it with me. Before I signed the lease, we discussed at great length the fact that my occupation meant I’d have dogs in my office very often. He’d told me he was “not a dog person,” but that this wouldn’t pose a problem.
Pavlov was patiently waiting for me. For Russell’s sake, I slipped the chain onto her neck and told her to heel. We came down the steps and I pulled opened the door. Russell smiled at me, but I noticed he was gripping the counter behind him with white knuckles.
“This is Pavlov,” I said, unable to keep the pride from my voice. Pavlov was a beautiful shepherd—medium-sized by the usual standards, in the classic Rin Tin Tin brown, black and gray markings—though Rin Tin Tin’s brown tones were lost on those black-and-white televised reruns.
Russell was actually shaking. For some reason, he seemed to find his meeting my calm German shepherd much more frightful than even the slightly larger collie who’d been barking viciously at him. To my equal surprise, Pavlov had tensed and was taking an aggressive stance.
Before I could warn him otherwise, Russell reached a quaking hand out toward Pavlov, as if he intended to pat her on the head—or poke her in the eye. She let out a loud woof.
In one fluid motion, Russell jerked his hand back, spun around, and leapt onto the counter. Then, plastered against the wall, Russell turned to look down at us. Pavlov and I stared back up at him in surprise, Pavlov cocking her head.
“I thought you said she liked men!”
“She does! You’re acting so fearful, though, you made her nervous. Dogs pick up on that kind of thing!”
“So, you’re saying I look like a cornered, edible bunny rabbit to her right now.”
“No, I’m saying you need to establish your position as her superior. You’re not going to be able to do that from up there. How about I take Pavlov back outside, and in the meantime, you—”
I stopped as the door hinge creaked behind me. Joel Meyer was entering with Suzanne in his arms. The little dog started yipping at the top of her lungs at Pavlov, who simply looked at her.
Meanwhile, Russell hopped down and said, “Hey, Joel. We met Saturday.” He wiped away the sweat from his brow, then turned to me and said, “I was right. I can reach the ceiling from up there. We won’t have any trouble changing the overhead light bulb.” Ah, yes. Humiliation in front of another male. The one thing that’s far more terrorizing to a man than even his worst phobia.
“Your bulb’s burned out? I’ll get it,” Joel offered, ignoring the grating noise of his dog’s shrill bark. “I’m tall enough.”
“It’s fine,” Russell answered sharply. “I was just testing for future reference.”
“Suzanne, hush!” Joel said. She had no inclination to obey.
I grabbed a box of miniature dog treats and gave a handful to Joel. “Here. Put a few of these in your pocket. T
ake Suzanne back outside. Set her down. The instant she stops barking, tell her, ‘Good dog,’ and give her one. Then lead her back inside, but don’t pick her up. If she starts barking while she’s still outside, let the door close—carefully, of course—on the leash with her still on the other side of the door.”
Joel said, “Can do,” and winked at me. He was looking especially handsome with his neat dark beard contrasting with his white dress shirt.
The moment Joel and his noisy dog were on the other side of the door, Russell grumbled, “Like he’s so tough. I’ve got gym socks that are bigger than that mutt of his.” He cast one quick glance at Pavlov, whose back was turned to watch for Joel and his dog’s return. “I’ve got a lot of work to do. See you later.” He went into his office and shut the door. His face was still red, but he managed to put a bit of a swagger into his step.
A minute or two later, Joel returned, and as I could have predicted, Suzanne started barking fiercely at Pavlov. He followed my instructions and stepped inside anyway, leaving the leashed Suzanne outside barking away.
“What now?” he said, smiling.
“This could get a bit tedious, frankly.”
“I doubt that very much,” he said, giving me a visual once-over that made me bristle. This was my job, not a chance to flirt.
I instructed Pavlov to lie down, then I told Joel, “Stay put till Suzanne stops barking. The moment she stops, go back outside with her, give her a treat and praise her, then try to lead her inside again. Repeat those steps till you can get her in here without any barking. Just remember: Don’t pick her up, don’t reassure her while she’s barking, do praise her and give her a treat when she isn’t barking.”
It took Joel many tries and half a box of treats, but by the end of the session, Joel was able to lead his dog in and out of the room, with her complete indifference to Pavlov’s presence.
“You’re a genius,” Joel told me. “She’s completely cured in one session.”
“Not that I’m trying to drum up repeat business here, but this is only a good start. I can virtually guarantee you that if I were to bring out another dog from a back room, Suzanne would start barking just as nonstop as ever, all over again.”
“Good,” Joel said. “That gives me all the more opportunity to see you. Would you consider an evening session tonight? Say at my place, during the dinner hour?”
“Not tonight.”
“What’s the next step?”
His coy, flirtatious demeanor was so annoying to me that I answered, “Assuming you’re referring to your dog, that’s up to you. I would imagine you want to at least get her trained not to confront other dogs when you’re walking her, right?”
“So, the next step is a walk in the park, right?”
“Right.”
“Cool. Sounds like a date to me. I’ll bring the glasses and the wine.” I started to object, but he held up a palm and said, “Just kidding.” He talked me into a follow-up session the next morning. He winked, then said, “See you next time.”
Just as he was leaving, John O’Farrell entered. If I’d expected this much unannounced drop-in business, I’d have installed a revolving door. Mugsy wasn’t with him, nor was his wife or children. “Hi, Allida. I was just canvassing the neighborhood.”
“Canvassing?”
“Putting fliers on windshields, actually. I own a health food store, and I’m sure you know how tough it is competing for customers in Boulder. Thought I’d drop by and tell you again how much I appreciate your helping with my wife and Mugsy.”
He stared at Pavlov, who rose and stepped between us. I was slightly surprised at her taking such a protective stance. She generally had an infallible sense of when I felt nervous in someone’s company. Yet I was completely at ease now and felt not threatened in the least.
“Is this your dog?”
“Yes, her name’s Pavlov.” I bent over and patted her sleek fur.
“Does she get along with Sage okay?”
I tensed, as did Pavlov. “Sage?”
“Yeah. I’m assuming you’re watching him, too, now, right?”
“I’m a little puzzled by your curiosity with regard to Sage. Tell me again how you came to meet him.”
“I used to eat at Hannah’s restaurant a lot and got to know her there. Then we ran into each other when we were at the park one day walking our dogs. That’s all there is to it. Not a very interesting story, I’m afraid.”
“How’s Mugsy been doing since I left?”
“Just fine. Like I said, I just dropped by to say thanks.” He was already backing out the door in a hurry to leave. I couldn’t begin to fathom why he’d wasted the time on a trip here. To ask one more time about Sage? He had to realize I was beginning to get suspicious of his interest. Why, then?
At the moment, I had enough to think about. I wanted to get Pavlov home, but first wanted to check on my officemate’s state of mind.
I instructed Pavlov to lie down in the corner, then tapped on Russell’s door. He called for me to come in, and I leaned through the doorway. “I’m taking Pavlov home to my mom’s. I don’t have another client for a couple of hours, so I’ll be a while.”
“You’re not just taking her for my sake, are you?”
“No. Not at all,” I lied. “She’s happier out in my mom’s big backyard where she’s got room to roam around. That’s one of the reasons I had to settle for this arrangement in the first place.”
“I need to explain something to you.” He searched my eyes. “Got a minute?”
“Sure.” I shut the door on Pavlov, who seemed fine.
Russell took a seat on his couch, and I sat down at the far end. He sat with his elbows on his knees, staring at his fists instead of meeting my gaze. At length, he said, “When I was three and my brother was five, we were playing out in the backyard. The neighbor’s German shepherd attacked him—bit his face. That’s my earliest memory.”
“Oh, my God! Russell, why didn’t you tell me this when I first told you what my type of business was?”
He shrugged, but looked at me with a longing in his eyes that spoke volumes. “I didn’t realize then that it’d be this difficult for me. I’ve just always kind of avoided dogs. It hasn’t been much of a problem as an adult.”
“Was your brother all right?”
“Yeah. He had to have a batch of stitches, but he’s fine now. Lives in Michigan. Works for IBM. You can barely even see the scars.”
“Still, though—”
“Do you believe in love at first sight?”
I stiffened. “No, Russell, I don’t.”
He scooted toward me. “Don’t you believe it’s at least possible that there was a reason you walked in my door, needing an office just as I was needing a new officemate?”
“Sure. It’s called classified ads.” My fight-or-flight warning flags were going berserk. An insidious realization popped of its own volition into my head—that if Russell had been a dog lover, I’d be every bit as much attracted to him as he was to me.
“You know that’s not what I mean,” he said quietly, searching my eyes.
“Well, if you mean, do you think our meeting each other was fated, I’d have to say no. Dogs are my life. You’re afraid of dogs. I personally don’t believe The Fates have that perverse a sense of humor.”
He leaned over and kissed me.
Chapter 15
I cut the kiss short, then shot to my feet, my heart beating rapidly for more reason than simple surprise. This was the last thing I needed in my life—finding myself more and more attracted to a man who was pathologically afraid of my beloved German shepherd.
Deliberately keeping my back turned so my resolve wouldn’t weaken, I said, “Russell, there is no sense in starting something between us that can’t possibly work out.”
“You don’t know that. If I can get over my lifelong fear of dogs, we might be perfect for each other.”
That was a very large “if.” My emotions seemed to be in an utter state
of confusion, and I honestly wasn’t sure what I felt anymore. I’d been wildly attracted to Keith, until he turned out to be Alex. I had Joel Meyer hanging on my every word, and I’d yet to decide if I even liked him. There was something compelling and decent about Russell. He was so “cute”—though I hated that word—and his obvious affection for me was flattering. The truth was, I didn’t want to have feelings for Russell Greene just now. I was too busy trying to sort through the shambles my day-to-day existence had become.
“Russell, the thing is, even if I weren’t under as much stress as I am right now, I own a German shepherd. That isn’t going to change.”
“I’ll get therapy for my phobia.”
“That’s sweet. Nobody’s ever offered to get therapy on my behalf before.” Pavlov let out a warning woof to signal that someone had entered my office. I headed to the door and said, “Let’s just...forget this ever happened, okay?”
I left before he could reply, but caught a glimpse of his disheartened features as I closed the door behind me.
A man I’d never met before stood in the center of the room, holding a green vase full of red roses. He and Pavlov were regarding each other with interest. His large, crooked nose reminded me of a human version of Sage’s. He wore a bomber’s jacket and gray slacks with brown wingtips peeking out from below his cuffs. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties.
He gave me a half smile. “I’m Keith Terrington. The real one.”
As opposed to the handsome actor who played the part during our date, I thought. “Hello, Keith. Nice to meet you, finally.” I was unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice. For the sake of his friendship with my mother, though, I felt obliged to be at least somewhat civil. “I can’t believe you stood me up for a Nuggets’ game. They’re terrible this year.”
“I know. The game was just an excuse.” He sighed. “After what I did, nothing short of a face-to-face apology seemed appropriate. Truth is, Marilyn showed me a picture of you she kept in her wallet. Ever since my wife left me, I haven’t had much luck with dates—certainly not with ones who haven’t met me yet. I...can’t stand to see the expression of disappointment on blind dates’ faces when they first see me.”
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