On My Way - Eve Langlais Page 0,8
with the obligatory pair of rockers.
What I didn’t expect was the dog.
The moment he shut off the bike, I heard it howling and whining. But that wasn’t the freakiest part of it. While I didn’t mind animals, I was still new to them, having only a cat, and cats don’t body slam the door at their person’s arrival.
Boom. Boom. Scratch. I swear I saw the door shuddering.
“He’ll calm down once I open it.”
Or it would eat us both.
Darryl’s dog, for all it had a big voice, still appeared to be a puppy, a gangly-legged furball that flew out the door and attacked him. At least that’s how it seemed given this massive black beast pounced on Darryl, yipping and bouncing. I didn’t see blood, but there appeared to be a rather long tongue trying to wash him.
The man appeared embarrassed as he tried to pet the dog, muttering, “Calm down, Herbie.”
“Herbie?” I repeated with a giggle.
The mention of its name turned the pup’s attention to me. Its lips peeled back to show some teeth, and it growled.
Oh dear. I took a step back.
“Don’t show fear,” Darryl advised.
Great advice that I might have followed if the rabid beast hadn’t advanced.
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