4. Dreadcipation
Chapter four
Dreadcipation
Sawyer
I spent the weekend alternating between anticipation at seeing Neil again and dread over going back into the building with the dogs. To keep my mind off things, I worked ahead on my various contracts and projects so I could take the full day off on Monday if I needed to.
I wasn’t sure if I’d be in any state to work if I came across any dogs during training.
Or after seeing Neil.
The thought that got me through the jitters and into my car Monday morning was that there would be an entire group of other volunteer trainees. Because dealing one-on-one with Neil again was guaranteed to fry all my remaining brain cells.
I pulled up into the parking lot and turned off the car. As I was getting out, I spotted Neil coming around the corner, walking a big fluffy dog. I froze, eyes on the dog, but Neil’s form drew me like a magnet, the pull stronger than even my desire to keep watching the beast.
Like yesterday, he was dressed in business casual. He pulled off a very adorable nerd-chic with his messy, dark hair paired with his pale skin. Heck, the dog even added to the look. It was the kind with long, curly fur that fell into its eyes. A sheepdog, I think they were called.
Neil looked up and met my gaze across the parking lot. His eyes lit up, transforming his entire face from cute to devastatingly handsome.
“Sawyer! You’re a little early,” Neil called, lifting his free hand in greeting.
I gave a half-hearted wave and smiled. “Morning,” I yelled back.
I fought back a cringe as the monster with him began barking at me. Neil tugged at the leash and snapped, “Heel.” The dog let out one last woof and retreated to stand next to Neil’s leg. Neil patted him. “Let me just take these two back inside. I’ll meet you in the lobby!”
Two? Only when he turned around did I see the smaller dog hidden behind. The smaller dog’s white fur blended into the bigger dog’s, although the smaller one’s fur was more fluffy and less wiry than the sheepdog’s. Neil disappeared around the corner, I assumed to a staff-only entrance.
I lingered by the front doors, only slightly less bothered by the barking than I had been the day before.
“Back to see the cats?” The front desk person, Shane, gave me a curious look but didn’t move from his seat.
I was surprised he remembered me from all the people who must come through everyday. Maybe because I’d slighted him by not returning to let him show me the cats.
“Not exactly. I’m volunteering.”
Shane gave me a salute and went back to reading the tattered paperback book.
I didn’t wait too long before Neil came bustling in from the back room. White dog hair clung to his khaki pant legs and the front of his button-up shirt.
“Sorry,” he said, brushing at the fur with one hand and offering me his other hand for a handshake. “You’re early,” he repeated. “I thought I had time to walk some of the dogs before you got here.”
“Traffic was lighter than expected, you know,” I said with a shrug. But in reality, I’d been too jittery to sit around the house a moment longer.
Now that I was closer, I made out deep circles under Neil’s eyes that he’d skillfully covered up with makeup.
“Come on in,” Neil said. Instead of going through the door back toward the dogs, he veered behind Shane to go through the staff-only door behind him.
“Feel free to make some coffee while you wait.” He pointed to a coffee machine on the counter in the little kitchen area we emerged into.
“Sure,” I agreed but paused, unable to resist watching Neil walk away. Once he’d disappeared, I set up and started a full pot of coffee. I didn’t need more caffeine, but Neil certainly did, and whoever else showed up today probably would as well.
The kitchen was nice, with marble countertops and high-end tile. The dogs were louder in here, the barks echoing off the high ceilings. So, while the coffee brewed, I left the employee area and walked outside.
It was only mid-morning, but heat already radiated off the blacktop. I stood in the shade of the building and checked my email on my phone, shooting off quick responses to a few business inquiries.
Neil was pouring himself a cup of coffee when I returned. No one else was around, and no one had entered the shelter in the ten minutes I had been outside.
“The other volunteers seem to be running late,” I told Neil.
“No, it’s just you and me this morning.”
I went cold.
“What, you don’t want me all to yourself?” Neil gave me a wry smile as he took a sip of his coffee. His eyes danced over the rim of the coffee cup, teasing. I must not have been as subtle in checking him out as I thought.
Now I flushed. Knowing that Neil might be interested back would test my sense of propriety. But I was determined to keep this professional. I stammered, “It’s just—wouldn’t it be more efficient to train multiple people at a time?”
“Undoubtedly.” He gave a deep sigh. “Here’s the deal. The reason I didn’t invite any of the rest of my potential volunteers is because I haven’t yet written the training program.” He ran a hand through his hair, mussing his artful swoops, and bit his lip. “Basically, I need a guinea pig, and I was hoping you would be it. Though, I realize now that it is a bit unfair of me to spring it on you like this. Argh, I’m sorry. I’m messing everything up again!”
His breathing had grown more rapid as he talked, and his eyes had gone round enough to show whites at the edges. Having had more than my share of panic attacks in the last year, I recognized the signs of an impending one or at least an anxiety attack.
“Stop, sit down,” I ordered.
I took his mug from him since his hands had started shaking and set it on the counter while Neil sank into one of the breakroom chairs. I knelt next to him so I wouldn’t be looming over him.
“Now focus on breathing. In… out…” I demonstrated by exaggerating my inhale and exhale, holding my breath for several seconds between them. I continued doing this along with Neil until he’d calmed down.
“Oh, my god.” Neil covered his face, elbows on his knees. “I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about,” I assured him. “I don’t mind being your training guinea pig.” A lie, but I wasn’t going to make him feel worse than he did already. “I’m probably the perfect candidate since I know nothing about caring for animals.”
“Which prompts the question of why you were looking to adopt one.” He sat up and let out a shaky laugh. I didn’t correct his assumption but shrugged.
“A guy gets lonely,” I teased, standing and offering him my hand.
He blushed but took it and let me help him up.