Home > Prancing of a Papillon

Prancing of a Papillon
Author: Tara Lain

Chapter One

 

 

“Woof.”

“Yip.”

Jericho Jones slid a big hand down the back of each of the two dogs that occupied his lap. Technically, according to some silly restaurant law, they were supposed to be on the ground, but Café Z was lenient on the patio. Hell, half the people in Corona del Mar had meals with their dogs, so Z would have lost most of their customers if they weren’t flexible.

Jericho whispered, “It’s okay, boys and girls. I’m nervous too.”

“Yip. Yip!” Killer, Jericho’s twelve-pound cairn terrier, leaped up and licked Jericho’s face.

Jericho giggled and wiped the slobber, but from Jericho’s other leg, Killer got a look of total disdain from Batshit, the eight-pound Papillon with ears the size of Nevada and an attitude far larger. Her withering expression said, Barbarian.

Jericho had borrowed Batshit from his friends, Finn and Em, for his blind date because she had impeccable taste. Jericho figured if the guy he was meeting for lunch passed the inspection of Batshit, he must be okay. Killer didn’t like much of anybody, so he wasn’t a good judge of character. Mostly, though, Jericho had just wanted the two dogs for moral support. He was crap at blind dates. Hell, he was crap at all dates, and if this one didn’t work, he’d pretty much decided to call it on social life.

“Woof.”

Jericho looked down at Bat who was staring toward the entrance to the restaurant patio. Deliberately, he raised his head. Standing inside the gate from the sidewalk stood a medium-tall, slim, fair-haired man who looked like Draco Malfoy grown up. He wore skin-tight gray jeans and a form-fitting white sweater that might be silk—or maybe nylon. Could he possibly be for me? The photo his blind date had posted online was from a distance, which was usually bad news, and all Jericho had really seen was pale hair. But this guy was tres cute.

Jericho put the dogs on the slate of the patio—amazingly, they let him—and rose. If the man turned out to be somebody else’s date, and that was likely, Jericho could pretend he’d been looking down the street. The guy glanced toward him and Jericho felt his hand raise on its own. A slow smile spread over’s the man’s face and he started toward Jericho. Be still my foolish heart.

He stopped on the other side of the table and said, “Jericho?”

“Yes, Malcolm?”

“That’s me.” He flashed white teeth and pressed a hand to his chest. “Man, how did I get so lucky?”

Right off, that worried Jericho, but he said, “I, uh, was just thinking the same thing.” He couldn’t quite stifle his giggle. He only giggled when he was nervous. “Please sit down.” He waved a hand toward the chair next to him.

The slight crease that popped between Malcolm’s nearly invisible eyebrows then vanished almost elicited a sigh from Jericho. Right, why couldn’t he learn to move his hands like a regular person—no, make that regular man—instead of some flaming ballet dancer? Don’t give up yet. Jericho sat and, of course, Batshit leaped immediately onto his lap. Killer had found a twig and was determinedly chewing on it, so he left the date interview to Bat.

Malcolm startled back in his chair, “Oh! What in the hell is that?”

Jericho smiled and resisted the urge to respond with Duh. “A dog. Actually, a Papillon, the princess of all dogs.”

“Oh.” Malcolm looked at her suspiciously and Batshit stared right back. He flipped his gaze up to Jericho. “So tell me, how tall are you?” He put a hand under his chin.

Oh dear. “I’m six foot five.”

Jericho wanted to move his lips with Malcolm’s next question he’d heard it so many times. “I’ll bet you played football in college.”

Jericho squeezed the words out between his teeth. “No. I studied education. What about you?”

Malcolm ran a hand over his slicked-back hair. “I’m an administrative assistant.”

“Oh, how interesting.” Jericho swallowed and rushed on. “I mean, it must be interesting if you have an interesting, uh, person you assist.”

“She’s a pain in the ass.” Uneasily, he glanced at Batshit. “So, you like dogs, huh?”

“Truthfully, she belongs to friends. I’m just taking care of her.”

He smiled bigger. “That’s nice of you.”

“Yes. My dog’s under the table.”

Malcolm glanced and said, “Oh dear God.”

“I gather you don’t like dogs?”

“I don’t have a lot of experience. I mean, I travel a lot, and I hear they need somebody to take care of them all the time and shit.”

“Yes, dogs are a lot of work.”

“Woof.” Batshit looked up at Jericho with implied criticism.

Malcolm frowned as he glanced around. “Jesus, who do I have to kill to get a cup of coffee?”

“Sorry.” Jericho waved a hand and the waiter, Timmy, hurried over.

“Hi, Jericho. How’s your mom?”

“Pretty good. How about your auntie?”

“Oh dear, her arthritis get’s worse and worse.”

Jericho nodded. “I understand. It can be so debilitating.”

Malcolm made a huffing sound. “Could I get some coffee, please?”

“Oh sure.” Timmy rushed off, came back with a pot, and filled the empty cup in front of Malcolm. “Are you ready to order?”

“Just coffee and keep it coming. Gotta keep the boyish figure.” He leaned over toward Jericho. “I’ll bet it’s steak and eggs for you, right?”

“Uh, no. I’ll have the feta and spinach scramble and a lemon scone, please, Timmy.”

“Aka, your usual?” Timmy grinned. “I’ve already got it ordered.”

Jericho giggled. “And, of course—”

Timmy and Jericho spoke simultaneously. “A side of turkey bacon.”

“Woof!” Batshit gave a little hop on Jericho’s knee and Malcolm again pulled back. Behind him, Timmy made a face, then walked away.

Malcolm said, “I would’ve thought at a restaurant in such a ritzy town they’d have better service.”

Jericho stroked Batshit to calm his nerves. “Timmy’s actually a great waiter. He just knows me really well, so he’s a little familiar. Sorry.”

“Oh sure, no problem. So you must be some big-time educator to get to live in Corona del Mar.”

“I teach first grade.”

“First grade?” He laughed. “Kindergarten Cop. Jesus. Aren’t people afraid to leave their kids with you?”

Jericho tried hard not to scowl. Scowling made him look scary, but he’d heard that tired Kindergarten Cop joke so many times. He cringed, waiting for Malcolm to say, “Boys have a penis. Girls have a vagina.”

He was saved by Timmy who bustled to the table with a tray, set it on a stand, served Jericho’s eggs and scone, and then poured more coffee for both of them.

“Woof!”

“I didn’t forget you, cutie.” Timmy made kissy sounds at Batshit. With a flourish, he picked up a plate loaded with turkey bacon and put it on the table. “There’s your favorite.”

Bat’s expressive ears stuck straight up at that moment. While she was super finicky about food, turkey bacon got her attention. Jericho took the saucer from under his coffee cup, broke up some bacon on it, and pushed the saucer toward Bat. Then he grabbed a saucer from under an extra cup, ripped two pieces of bacon in half, and set the plate on the ground. Killer was on it like a rat on a pile of rocks, the job cairn terriers had been bred for.

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