4. Dario
CHAPTER 4
Dario
I’m still finding my way around town. I’d really hoped that the doggy training class that the shelter suggested I sign up for was going to be, you know, at the shelter. Or maybe at the local high school. Anywhere really with an address that I could put into my phone to guide me.
Instead, I was told to find ‘the big tree by the water fountain in Memorial Park.’ That did not fill me with much confidence.
But it turns out this place really is that small. There’s just one memorial park, the biggest tree is pretty obvious even from a distance, and as Queenie and I approach, there’s the water fountain. I breathe a sigh of relief that I’m probably where I’m supposed to be. The problem now, though, is that I’m ridiculously early.
“That’s okay,” I say to Queenie. She looks up at me, panting with her pink tongue lolling out of her mouth. “We can just chill in the shade until other people and their doggies get here, right?”
If they come. What if I got the day wrong or the time or there’s some other park with a large tree, after all. What if?—
Queenie woofs and wags her tail at me. She’s so happy to be out in the sunshine, on the grass, and smelling the ocean breeze, nothing else matters. I need to be more like her, don’t I?
“If I got it wrong, then we’ll still have had a nice walk, and we can try again next week, okay?” I tell my dog. She’s still a miniature tank made of wrinkles, but her whole demeanor is so much happier since I brought her home from the shelter. With a better diet, her eyes are brighter and less watery, her breath less like garbage, and she’s even slobbering less.
It breaks my heart to think about all the time she sat all alone in that cage, waiting to be picked. But I’m doing my best not to dwell on the past—for both of us. We’re here now, living our best lives, and I need to make sure we’re both making the most of it.
First, I get Queenie’s collapsable bowl out of my messenger bag and fill it up from my bottle of water, then I settle us in the shade where we can both have a drink. I have carrot sticks for us both, as she surprisingly loves them. I also have a Frisbie to play fetch together. It’s already getting pretty chewed up, so I don’t know how much longer it’s going to fly, but that’s okay. She’ll only want to chase it for a while before she’d rather wrestle me for it and then eventually just lay down and munch around the edges before having a nap.
I love that it’s only been a week, but I know her so well already. I was nervous about adopting a rescue dog because they might be, well, nervous. Who knows what kind of life they’ve lived beforehand? But Queenie’s attitude is kind of like her body: sturdy AF. So far, she doesn’t seem fazed by anything. Cars, children, horses, the mail carrier. Nothing freaks her out.
But I think she is still sad sometimes. She likes to bulldoze her way onto my bed at night via the mini staircase I bought for her, so it’s really my fault. But could tell she wanted to snuggle, and I love it as well, so no regrets. I think we’ve both been lonely for too long to stand on ceremony.
I’m lost in thought as Queenie lifts her head and lets out a big, low ‘WOOF.’ That’s all the warning I get before a black and white bullet hurtles across my lap and launches itself at my dog, yapping excitably as the end of its wayward leash smacks me on the face.
“Oh, shit! Dude, I’m so freaking sorry! Are you okay?”
I blink and look toward the voice. Then I blink again and wonder how hard I just got whipped.
Am I hallucinating?
The guy jogging up to me under the shade of the mighty oak tree has got to be at least six-five, and with the shorts and tight tank he’s wearing, it’s very easy to see how muscular he is. Like a real-life superhero with tree-trunk thighs and bulging biceps. His red hair is thick and cut short around the back and sides. There are pretty freckles all over his nose, cheeks and shoulders. Even as he grapples for the leash attached to the black and white blur, his smile is goofy, and his carefree laugh files up all the cracks in my heart.
“Rocky, no! Play nice, little man!”
I realize the blur is actually a Dalmatian puppy that’s currently hopping all over and around Queenie. But Queenie seems to be watching with interest as the pup dances about, occasionally woofing her feelings regarding the youngster.
“It’s okay,” I say when I finally unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth. This guy might be gorgeous, but he’s also only human, and he doesn’t even seem that scary. Aside from him being impossibly attractive, of course. “They’re just playing. She’ll tell him if she’s had enough.”
The guy puffs his cheeks out and rubs the back of his neck with one of his hands…which only serves to show off his insane biceps even more. “Sorry, man. I still have no clue what I’m doing with any of this. We’re actually here to go to a class so this little monster can learn some manners.”
“You’re doing Big Bark Bootcamp?” I ask before my brain can catch up with my mouth. The embarrassing squeak to my voice probably betrays how excited I am by the idea, but almost immediately, reality catches up with me. A guy like this would never be interested in being anything other than polite with a scrawny nerd like me.
Except…his face lights up. “We sure are! Is that why you guys are here? You doing it, too?”
“Um, yes,” I say shyly. “I just adopted my dog, and I wanted some help making sure she’s adjusting properly.”
I expect him to make his excuses and wait somewhere else so he doesn’t have to talk to me anymore. But instead, he plops on the ground beside me and raises his eyebrows.
“No way! I pulled Rocky here out of a burning building. I’m a firefighter,” he adds for clarification. He’s not doing much to refute my theory that he’s a superhero. Then he shoves his huge hand my way. “Lochlan Bell.”
In something of a daze, I lift my hand and shake his. His grip is firm but not tight in that asshole ‘I’m in charge’ sort of way. “Dario Garcia-Perez,” I say, then immediately regret it.
It’s not just that I feel like a fraud telling him I’m Dario. That’s what everyone at my new job calls me, after all. But Shane always warned me to drop the ‘Perez’ part because he reckoned it was too much of a mouthful. Also, that people didn’t always like it being pointed out that I’m Hispanic—like the Garcia alone wouldn’t make that obvious. He used to tell me I could pass for white like it was some great compliment, and said having just one surname would make that easier.
I hate that people might have a bad reaction to realizing my heritage when I’m nothing but proud of it. But I’m also just so tired of second-guessing everything and unnecessary drama.
And… shit! I need to be more careful about telling random people my surname, for crying out loud! This guy doesn’t look dangerous, but then neither did Shane. I’d actually considered using a completely different name in public just for a little extra security. But that idea obviously completely flew out of my head when faced with Lochlan’s gorgeous smile and cheery disposition.
Despite my misgivings—both about racism and security—Lochlan doesn’t bat an eyelid or pause or anything. He just finishes the shake and juts his chin toward our scrapping dogs. “She’s a rescue? She’s got a lotta balls already! Uh, I mean…”
My laugh startles me. Not only does it melt my previous worries away, but I realize I’m actually laughing with someone I just met. It’s so normal, but that in itself makes it so not normal.
I feel lighter all of a sudden.
“It’s okay, I know what you mean.” I regain my composure and look fondly at my girl. “She’s a fighter.”
Lochlan punches my arm. “That’s why Rocky got his name! He’s a fighter, too!”
I’m sure Lochlan only uses a fraction of the strength he possesses, but it’s more just the touch itself that catches me by surprise. I’m pretty positive he’s straight and doesn’t mean anything by it. But having a hot guy put his hand on me—no matter how briefly or innocently—isn’t something I was sure I wanted again.
However, it’s like warmth blossoms from that small spot where our skin connected. My heart has felt shriveled and cold for so long. Yet in that moment, it flutters, like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon and unfurling its wings.
I cast around for something to say, trying to remember how to behave like a regular human being. “Queenie already had her name when I picked her up,” I explain. “But I think it suits her.”
Lochlan gives her an appraising look as she bats her paw at Rocky’s head, trying to calm the pup down, or so it seems to me. “Oh, yeah. She’s definitely got something regal about her. She gets shit done.”
I chuckle again. There’s still a part of me that’s nervous to have this Adonis giving me attention. But there’s also something so relaxing about his company that’s helping me forget to be anxious. No one’s making him talk to me, after all. Certainly not me. If he wants to sit here until the class starts, that’s his choice.
The fact that he’s not making an excuse to get away from me gives me the kind of confidence boost I haven’t felt in forever.
“So, you’re a firefighter?” I find myself asking. Talking about jobs seems like a safe enough topic for many reasons.
He nods, splitting his attention between me and making sure his puppy isn’t beating up my dog. “With the One-Thirteen. This guy was hiding out in an old warehouse.” He swallows, and something serious flickers over his face. “Shit, I keep imagining, like, what if we didn’t get the call? What if I didn’t find him in time? What if I never heard him and I left him behind? I don’t?—”
His anxiety is palpable, and before I can stop myself, I realize I’m reaching out and placing my hand on his forearm. His skin is warm against mine, and he instantly calms. His eyes flick to meet mine, and I nod reassuringly, suddenly feeling like the expert in the room—or the park, I guess. But that’s because I am the expert at this particular thing.
“They’re called intrusive thoughts,” I say gently, repeating what my therapist has drilled into me. “Sometimes our brain likes to cope with trauma by playing out worse-case scenarios so it can try and feel prepared in case those situations actually happen.” Embarrassment flies through me and I withdraw my hand quickly. “But you probably know all about that, being a first responder.”
Lochlan is frowning in thought, however. He sniffs and reaches over to squeeze my knee, like he’s reciprocating my brief touch. “No, thank you. I mean, yeah, we talk about that kind of stuff a lot. But no one’s actually called it…what did you say?”
“Intrusive thoughts,” I offer him.
He nods. “Yeah. It’s like they’re bullying their way through my regular, sane thoughts. That’s good if I know it’s like a stress response kinda deal. We have a shrink that looks out for us, so I can talk to her more about that now I know it has a name.”
He bumps shoulders with me then lets go of my knee. I miss his touch immediately, but I’m so wowed that he’s listening to the advice silly little me has to offer, I don’t really mind.
“No big deal,” I say, trying not to get flustered.
“Naw, man. I appreciate it.”
He flashes me that smile again, and I’m glad I’m sitting down. Otherwise, I think my jelly legs would have betrayed me. But then he keeps talking and it somehow gets worse…or better, I suppose, depending on how you’re looking at it.
“I’m happy we’re going to be doing this class together,” he says. “We can be buddies!” However, he then lifts his eyebrows and looks awkward. “Oh, unless you’d rather be left alone. I’m sorry, dude. I don’t always know when to back off. My friend Lili says I’m the puppy, not Rocky. If I’m stepping on your peace and quiet, just tell me and I’ll skedaddle. I?—”
“No!” I blurt out, my face instantly flushing. “I mean, um, you’re not bothering me at all. I’m new in town, actually. The whole reason I adopted was because I didn’t want to be alone. So it’s nice to talk to someone. Especially about this stuff.” I gesture to Rocky and Queenie. Queenie has managed to somehow subdue the puppy and is now aggressively cleaning behind his ears. “Being a dog dad is quickly becoming my only personality trait.”
Lochlan laughs and looks relieved, but then he squints at me. “Wait, you don’t know anyone at all in Redwood Bay?”
I shake my head. “I moved here for work. My family’s in San Diago, so they’re not a million miles away. But it’s not the same as seeing them every day and talking face to face. My colleagues are okay, but they’re also IT nerds like me, so their social skills aren’t amazing. And…” I wince. “Unlike me, who just monologued at you for five whole minutes.”
Lochlan looks like he takes a second to realize what I said before he shakes himself. “Huh? No! You’re fine, dude. Great, actually! I was worried people were going to judge the shit out of me in this class for being hopeless. I’m so glad we met first. And now you can say you know at least one person in town. Hey!” His eyes light up. “Let’s swap numbers! We can walk these little monsters together. I—oh—haha.”
He tilts his head, and I turn to also watch as Queenie throws herself against Rocky, wrapping him in her arms and cuddling him close…apparently whether he likes it or not. He wriggles a bit but then seems to give up and snuggle as well.
“I think they like each other,” Lochlan says, sounding awed.
I swallow and try not to think of the litters Queenie supposedly had. Did she get a chance to even be a mom to them? Is that what she’s doing to this wayward, orphaned pup now?
I was prepared to tell Lochlan that he didn’t need to take pity on me and offer to hang out. I bet he has a million cooler friends than me. But if it’s more about our dogs spending time together than us…then I guess it would be selfish to say no. Right?
“I think Queenie would love to go for a walk with Rocky,” I say softly.
“Hell, yeah,” Lochlan agrees cheerfully, pulling his phone out of his shorts. “Digit me up, bro! Then we can organize a puppy playdate.”
It looks like more people are approaching from across the park for the class. So before I can change my mind or get distracted, I rattle off my number for Lochlan to input. He fires me a text and…that’s it.
I’ve made my first friend in Redwood Bay.
The fact that he’s insanely hot is probably going to come back to haunt me soon enough. But for now, I just enjoy the feeling of acceptance, wrapping myself up in it like a blanket.
I’ve made a friend.
And I really like him.