intend to be on, and shoulder the thing closed. Soundlessly, I pace to the trampoline, and although it’s dusk, it isn’t so dark that the girls don’t see me coming.
The girls’ talking hushes at my arrival, but when I only lay down and place my muzzle on my paws, for all the world looking like nothing more than a strange dog, they eventually go back to talking.
I tune their words out, listening instead to their voices to absorb the camaraderie. It reminds me of home. Of Pack.
I don’t doze. And when the girls’ words slur with sleepiness, I get to my feet and wurf at them, circling the trampoline like they need to be herded.
They laugh and get down, heading for the house, patting me as they pass me, even Ginny. I follow.
They retire to Charlotte’s room for the night.
And to my desperate relief, Susan’s door stands open. She doesn’t know it, but I’ve spent every night with her since I arrived. (Yes, that would be a grand total of two.) Until this morning, I was able to sneak out before she woke.
I’m hovering near her door because it’s like Finn said—for now, Susan is my alpha. She’s the rock that keeps me anchored; she’s comfort, she’s reassurance, she’s protection—even if, technically, my body is stronger than hers.
It’s the instinct of a submissive to seek the alpha.
I curl up on her hardwood floor, tuck my nose under the tip of my tail, and mean to sleep. But my nose catches the scent of Susan’s sweat.
It’s a nice smell. Tropical, and mildly sweet like kiwi. A little metallic.
Also like fried salty pickles.
Since I’m not yet settled enough to find sleep, quietly, I pad to the source of the scent (the secondary one, since she, on the bed, is the primary producer of her unique smell) and find a blouse wadded up next to a hamper. I take it in my teeth, walk it back to the center of the room, and curl up on it.
It’s the best sleep I’ve had since I came here.
CHAPTER 18
SUSAN
When my alarm goes off, I roll over in time to blearily watch a tail disappear around the doorway. It’s so swift that when I blink, it’s gone and I wonder if I imagined it.
But then I get out of bed and find my dirty shirt spread out on the floor where I know I didn’t leave it.
Blinking, I toss it in the sink and search the cupboard for dish soap. I keep a small container in my bathroom for the purpose of stain removal, and when I locate the bottle, I squirt a generous amount on the grease stains and let it soak.
Then it’s yesterday’s routine on replay—breakfast, visit with Deek and kids, shower, dress, rush out—until I reach work.
“Sue, a word?” calls Finn all of two seconds after I punch in.
I shut my purse in my locker and put my back to it. I find Finn in the doorway of the staff room, hand gripping the frame, weight braced forward, making his impressive chest look broader, more cut. His t-shirt hides no secrets, and he’s a man who stays fit. Very fit. I ignore the handsomeness of his face and meet his lively green eyes, really looking at them today. “What do you need?”
He strolls over to me and leans a shoulder into the locker units, crossing his arms, displaying so much lovely male wrist and forearm real estate. “What’s your weekend look like?”
My gaze freezes on his. Dread rolls slowly over me, like honey: sweet, but I feel like I’m in a jam.
I guess I don’t hide my reaction well. Or at all. Finn’s gaze shutters, and he holds up a hand. “I’m not coming on to ya. I mean for bringing Ginny by the dens.” He raises a shoulder. “I figure she’ll be more comfortable if you come along.”
I cross my arms over my chest too. “Sure,” I reply. “Saturday would probably be best if Deek is planning to do church again on Sunday?”
Finn’s lips curve up in a smile, but his eyes look a little sad. “Oh, he will. And all right then. I’ll see you and the fam on Saturday. Say when, and Deek will tell you where to go.”
I frown as something occurs to me. “If he’s never been out before, how does he know where to go?”
Finn’s eyes study me for a moment. “He may never have been shopping before, but he’s been out plenty. He runs as a