“Yes. Can you shut the door and lock it?”
“Sure.” I had to step around him and found myself struggling to breathe as I got close to him, feeling all of the warmth he was emanating. I cleared my throat and slid the door back into place, finding the lock in the handle and flipping it up. I backed up quickly. “There you go. All clear.”
Noah’s biceps flexed as he gently set his dog down, and Magnus came over to inspect me. I crouched down to his level and held out my hands for him. “You are one dirty boy,” I told him.
“I am,” Noah agreed as he brushed some soil off his pants.
My cheeks flushed and I said, “I was talking to your dog.”
“I know.” Then he winked at me and all the blood drained from my brain.
Magnus wagged his tail at me, bringing me back to reality, and I petted him. “He’s beautiful. Is he part rottweiler?” He had the telltale black-and-tan color markings.
“He is. And part Newfoundland. And there’s probably some other breeds mixed in. The adoption shelter wasn’t sure.”
The Newfie DNA explained why his fur was shaggy—he really was in need of a good brushing and bath. Which meant that Noah had been up front about why he’d called me and there was no ulterior motive, like Shelby had hoped for.
Why did that make me feel a little disappointed? This was so unlike me.
Noah crouched down next to me and Magnus went over to him, licking his face. I, surprisingly, found myself completely understanding the impulse. Noah told me, “I’m pretty sure he thinks he’s part wolf and that’s why he wants to escape into the wild. The problem is he’s a good, sweet boy who doesn’t have a mean bone in his body and thinks everybody is his friend. Which is why we don’t want him to get into a fight with a pack of coyotes, do we, Magnus?”
He sounded like he was scolding him, but it was couched in so much gentleness and love that I was pretty sure Magnus had no idea he was being told to stop escaping.
I thought it was completely adorable how much Noah loved and worried about his dog. And a little ovary-melting, too.
Straightening up, I gestured around me. “This is quite a collection of books. I’m assuming you like to read.”
“I do.” He nodded and stood up, too. “When I got my medical discharge from the army, books are what helped me cope.”
I knew that he’d joined the military when he was eighteen years old and had been discharged about three years later, after he was injured overseas. He didn’t talk much in interviews about what had happened, but he’d often discussed his respect for the organization and for his buddies who had gone on to serve without him.
“What about you?” he asked. “Are you much of a reader?”
I picked up the book next to me, a collection of plays by Sophocles. I let out a little laugh. “Yes, but probably nothing you’d find interesting.” For example, I adored the Duel of the Fae books that the movies were based on, and there was no way I could admit that to him.
Given that I’d told him I had no idea who he was.
“I doubt that,” he said as he stood up and took a step closer to me. “You seem interesting to me.”
My eyes widened, and I leaned against the bookshelf for support. What the holy frack did that mean?
So I decided to make a joke of it. “I’m not. I mean, while you’re reading Sophocles, Proust, and Mamet, I’m usually rotting my brain watching television.” I swallowed nervously, not liking the way he was looking at me. Or maybe the problem was that I liked it too much. “And you’ve definitely gone with some interesting decor choices here.”
“I’ve been living in New York the last few years because I’ve liked the anonymity it affords me. But so much of my work is in Los Angeles that we moved here about six months ago. I wanted space for Magnus to run around in, so I planned on building a fence, but the homeowners’ association is giving me grief. Anyway, this house used to be owned by a ninety-four-year-old woman. Her husband built it for her as a wedding present back in the 1950s. So I want to honor that history and restore it to its former glory, but I haven’t found the right person to fix it up yet.”
Maybe Shelby really was an all-seeing witch. “Actually, I happen to know the right person. It’s my friend Shelby. Because if I tell her the way that this adorable bungalow is the victim of decorating abuse, I’m going to have to drive her to the hospital after she has a coronary. She takes her interior design very seriously.”
I took out the small stack of cards she’d given me and sorted through them until I found one of hers. I handed it to him, being very careful to make sure that our fingers didn’t accidentally brush, because I wasn’t sure I’d be able to handle the sensation.
“Thanks for the recommendation.” He slid the card into his own pocket.
That weird, awkward energy was back, and he was looking at me like . . . like he wanted to kiss me.
Panicky adrenaline flooded through me, and I cleared my throat loudly. “We should probably get started. Let me tell you a little about the services I provide.”
I ran through what I’d do with Magnus, the brushing and bathing, the organic products I used that were environmentally friendly and didn’t have any harsh chemicals, how I preferred towel drying and then stress-free toenail clipping. “I can also brush his teeth and clean out his ears, if you want.”
“He probably needs the works. Let me get his leash in case he makes a dash for it once we go outside.”
I nodded as he went into the kitchen. Talking about how I did my job had calmed me back down and made it so that I could appreciate Noah’s broad shoulders as he went through the door. I thought again about how strong he was and how easily he’d hefted his dog. Magnus looked up at me expectantly, and I said, “You’re the world’s luckiest dog, did you know that?”
“Did you say something?” Noah asked when he reentered the library and attached the leash to Magnus’s collar.
Other than a small part of me wishing I could switch places with Magnus? “No. I’m parked out front.”
He led the way, which allowed me to walk behind him and enjoy the fact that his jeans were very well fitted and he filled them out nicely.
I tried not to sigh. I did not have nearly as much willpower as I thought I did. I was crumbling like a sandcastle at high tide.
To distract myself I asked, “So, you said they’re doing a feature on you and Magnus?”
He glanced over his shoulder with a wry expression. “I know, it sounds pretentious. But yes.”
It didn’t sound the least bit pretentious to me. Because I was totally going to read that article and would probably even cut it out and put it in my old scrapbook. I’d started it back when he was starring on the teen show Late for Class as Felix Morrison. He played the mischievous ladies’ man who was always getting in and out of schemes, to his principal’s great frustration. The show was originally intended to be a showcase for the actress who played his homeroom teacher, but they quickly discovered that the teen girls were much more interested in Felix and he became the breakout star.
When I was younger, I used to clip magazine articles about Noah and the show, along with printing out stories and pictures of him from the internet, and put them all in my scrapbook. I wondered where it was. I hadn’t seen that thing in years. My mom would probably know.