I squeaked, “Good doggie.”
That just brought even more rumbling with a hint of drool. I was close to wetting myself, and not in a good way.
“Herbie, heel,” Darryl barked.
The dog stopped its grumbling long enough to crane a look at its master.
“I mean it. You leave Naomi alone.” Darryl wagged a finger, and the beast whined before it lay down on its paws, glaring at me.
“I don’t think your dog likes me.”
“Don’t take it personally. My dog doesn’t like strangers. So let’s show him that we’re friends.”
“In other words, return when I’ve got a fresh juicy steak.”
He chuckled. “Make that a pair and we’ll barbecue.”
Implying I could come back and we’d have dinner? “It’s getting too cold to cook outside,” I blurted out. Which, too late, I realized sounded like rejection. “We’d be better off doing a roast,” was my lame recovery.
“I love a good roast. I’ll provide the wine.” He was definitely flirting.
“I make a mean apple pie, too.” For people not on diets, at least.
“Can’t wait to taste it.” He grabbed my hand, startling me. The dog sensed it and growled.
“Shut it, Herbie. Naomi is my friend,” he stated, rubbing his thumb over the back of my hand.
I felt tingles. Lovely, lovely tingles. I didn’t resist when Darryl pulled me closer.
“See, Herbie. Friends.”
Did he tuck all his friends against him?
He held me close, his arms loosely laced around me, his chin tucked against my head. I shyly put my arms around him.
The dog stopped grumbling, and Darryl whispered against my ear, “Ready?”
“For what?” I said rather breathlessly.
“Hold out your hand.”
Not what I’d expected him to say. “Why would I do that?”
“So Herbie can get your scent.”
“What if he decides to eat me instead?”
“Herbie won’t eat you. Let him smell you, and don’t show fear,” Darryl advised.
“Don’t show fear, he says. Your dog could take my hand off with one bite.” The very thought terrified me, and at the same time, I could see how foolish I was being. Darryl wouldn’t tell me to do something that would harm me.
If he said the dog wouldn’t devour me a la Cujo, then I should believe him. It helped that Darryl wrapped his arm around my middle.
Doing my best not to cringe, I held out my hand.
The dog sniffed it with more snuffling than was surely necessary before licking the palm. Tenderizing me? Marking the spot he wanted to start with?
The massive puppy head followed, butting my hand.
“What’s he doing?” I asked in a choked whisper.
“Asking for a scratch.”
“Oh.” I dug my fingers into fur and soon had the dog rolling onto his back. I had to crouch to rub his belly. His—because he definitely wasn’t built like a female—four legs projected into the air, and his tongue lolled.
To think I’d been terrified just a moment before.
I eyed Herbie, not recognizing the breed, but then again, I only really knew the basics. “What kind of dog is he?” Because he looked part wolf.
“I’m not sure. The breeder I bought him from likened him to a hell hound.”
“Herbie doesn’t have red eyes.” Only big brown ones that begged me for more scratches.
“Nor does he breathe fire. Guess we’re safe. Ready to come inside?” He swept me around to face the open door.
No one knew I’d come here with Darryl. I should have told someone where I was going. Left a note or texted Winnie.
Those were crazy thoughts. Darryl wasn’t a bad guy. I hoped.
I stepped inside a tidy front hall. Tidier than I would have expected for a single man. There was a flat, plastic tray with a pair of construction boots and assorted men’s shoes. Large ones, I might add. A closed bifold door that was probably a closet. The area was enclosed but partially open at the same time. There were wooden pickets starting mid-wall, going right up to the ceiling. Through them I got a glimpse into a living room decorated with lots of plaid fabric and wood.
In order to close the front door, Darryl had to step close to me, his body brushing mine, making me all too aware of him. The dog rushed past, bounding into the hall as gangly as a colt, knocking me into Darryl. I braced my hands on his torso.
When he turned, he smiled softly down at me. “Sorry. He’s still kind of clumsy.”
“How old is Herbie?” I asked, stepping away.
“About six months old.”
“How big is he going to get?”
“Big enough he’ll cost me a fortune to feed,” Darryl joked.
I didn’t even want to imagine the size of its poop. I’d seen what my little kitty could do in a litter box. How something so cute could smell so bad...
“Kick off your shoes. Give me your coat.” Darryl held out his hand.
I slid off my loafers and shucked my sensible canvas jacket. I’d left the helmet outside on the bike and didn’t want to know just how bad my hair looked. Darryl didn’t seem to mind. He smiled every time I glanced at him.
I smiled back.
Stepping out of the front entrance, I noticed the hallway lined with pictures hung atop old wallpaper, the kind with lines rather than flowers. Some of the images appeared old, the paper yellow with age, everyone looking so serious. My house had a gallery, too, but the weird thing was many of its images were recent, and yet, no one took credit for taking and framing them. Probably because they’d done so via stalkerish methods because it certainly wasn’t me or Winnie. Which didn’t leave many other options, unless I believed my house was magical. Ridiculous, right?
“You live here by yourself?” I asked as I glanced into the living room and noted the basket with knitting supplies.
“Yeah. Used to be my parents’ place, but they’re both gone.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Guess we got being orphans in common.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I guess we do. I never really thought about it because of my kids.”
“Has your son come to visit yet?” he asked.
Darryl had met Winnie on more than a few occasions. But Geoff… He and I had yet to achieve the kind of relationship I wanted. Heck, I was lucky if he talked to me for more than two minutes during my weekly calls. Weekly because I’d decided it wasn’t up to him to make the effort. And while it was awkward, I hoped that over time it would become easier and he and I could slip into something similar to what I now had with Winnie.
“He’s busy working. And then there’s his fiancée.” I’d finally gotten a picture. Pretty girl, Asian features, her hair cut in a bob, petite beside Geoff.
“Family’s tough,” Darryl commented.
“You don’t have any brothers or sisters?”
“Not anymore.” Rather than explain, he clapped his hands. “Ready for the tour?”
I eyed the stairs leading to the second floor, probably his bedroom. With a bed.
“I don’t know if I have time for a full tour today. I really should get back to the store. I’m supposed to take a shift at the diner around four.”