2 #2
Drew wiped one hand down his face, scarcely believing this was real. What happened to staying as far away from Savannah as possible? “Yeah, uh, turn down my parents’ driveway and then hang a left,” he explained. “You remember where they live?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Great,” he said, then he hung up before she could respond.
He knew it was rude, but he couldn’t help it.
How had he gotten home an hour ago content to never run into Savannah Reynolds again, and now, somehow, he was not only the (hopefully temporary) owner of a dog, but he was also caring for said dog with the help of Savannah Reynolds herself?
Why, after all this time, could he still not tell this girl no?
The next evening, Savannah turned into the familiar driveway that led to Mr. Rob and Mrs. Christy Tanner’s house. She’d spent many summer afternoons on their property back in middle school, but she didn’t remember there ever having been a left turn off the main drive.
“Hang a left . . .” she muttered to herself, repeating Drew’s instructions as she scanned the side of the long gravel lane.
Finally, about halfway to the big house, she saw what looked like a wagon track veering off into the trees.
She paused, glancing first along the main driveway and then cautiously into the woods.
“Well, what do you think, boy?” she asked, addressing the dog in the back seat.
Ryker was standing on the bench with his head hanging out the open window, his tongue lolling out like he was trying to taste the wind.
He barked happily, clearly having the time of his life, and Savannah took that as permission to proceed.
This did seem to be the only turnoff, after all, and Drew had said she should go to the left.
Slowly, she maneuvered her little Honda Civic off the gravel and tried to keep her wheels lined up with two deep grooves that already bore the marks of tire tread.
The path itself was pretty, lined on both sides with old trees that arced their branches overhead in a kind of cathedral ceiling.
Savannah smiled; this would be the most beautiful road in Mason County when the leaves turned red.
Minutes passed as she eased along the path before finally glimpsing the sloped roof of a small building through the trees.
Her car entered a clearing at the end of the track, and a little house came fully into view.
The whole thing was . . . well, it was like something out of a storybook.
She half expected a family of little bears to peek from the windows that pierced the cabin’s stone-covered walls.
A riot of sunny black-eyed Susans tossed their heads in the light breeze while a fat brown squirrel scampered across the roof.
And waiting on the porch, his forearms resting on the railing, was Drew.
His eyes were shielded by the brim of his cap, but even from a distance she could tell he was watching her intently.
The stare made a few rebellious butterflies spring to life behind her breastbone.
She slowed to a stop beside a flatbed truck with a faded Tanner Farms decal on the side panel and then turned off her engine before pushing open her door and climbing to her feet.
Ryker scrambled forward as if he intended to jump straight out the window.
“No, Ryker! Sit!” she commanded from outside the car.
The dog did as he was told, sitting on his haunches with his head still partially out the window, and Savannah exhaled slowly. Well, at least that was a good start.
“Good boy,” she breathed. She reached out and scratched him behind the ear. Ryker cocked his head completely to one side, and one of his back legs started to thump against the upholstery of her car. Savannah laughed; at least he was easy to please.
The creak of wooden floorboards reminded her that they had an audience—one that was far less likely to be happy with a simple head scratch. Drew descended the porch stairs and came to stand just inside her peripheral vision, his arms crossed as he studied her passenger.
“He isn’t brown,” he said astutely.
Savannah only just caught her chuckle before it rolled out between them. “No, he isn’t,” she agreed. “It’s amazing what a bath can do.”
Ryker’s light-gray coat sported white patches on his chest and paws, and he seemed to sit a little straighter inside the car, as if he knew he was on display at that very moment.
“Thank you again for letting him stay here,” Savannah said. “He’s such a good boy, and—”
But Ryker chose that moment to leap suddenly through the still-open window, launching himself at Drew with abandon. His excited barking drowned out Savannah’s shouts of “down, boy!” and his whole back end wiggled wildly, as if he, too, were thanking his new housemate for the reprieve on his life.
Drew staggered back a step and held his hands out to keep the animal at bay.
“I’m so sorry!” Savannah blurted, wrestling the dog back under control. “He’s just really happy to be here.”
Drew hummed a response, clearly displeased. “Dad had an old doghouse,” he said curtly, nodding toward the end of the porch. “I filled it with straw. Should be fine.”
Ryker flopped onto the ground across Drew’s boots and panted as if he’d just run a mile.
Savannah smiled down at him. “Dogs are good judges of character,” she said, “and I think he likes you. Just be warned, though, he’ll weasel his way into your life, and you might decide you don’t want to get rid of him after all.
” When she looked up, she was surprised to find Drew studying her instead of the dog at his feet.
His expression hardened when he realized she was looking.
“Doubtful,” he grunted.
But he also didn’t make any effort to move.
The next evening, Drew finished dinner and retrieved an old guitar from a stand in the corner of his living room.
Then he pushed open his front door and settled easily into a wooden chair he kept on the porch.
The sun was going down, and he could see lightning bugs wink in the darkness beneath the trees.
Leaves rustled as something scurried across the ground, frogs croaked from the creek bed and crickets sang their songs in the grass.
An owl hooted from far away, and Drew strummed his guitar strings in reply.
He closed his eyes and began to play a song his grandfather had taught him as a kid. The music seemed melancholy on its own, but the words gave an uplifting message when he chose to sing them. Not tonight, though—tonight, the chords matched the way he felt on the inside.
He jumped when something cold and wet pressed against his hand.
“Agh!” he exclaimed, his eyes flying open.
His muscles relaxed only slightly when he saw the dog Savannah had brought sitting in front of him.
It must have snuck up the stairs while he wasn’t paying attention.
“Oh, uh, hi,” Drew said awkwardly. “Do you need something?”
The dog huffed out a breath that moved its jowls with its force. Then he rested his big chin on Drew’s knee, his brown eyes wide, as if asking for permission to stay.
“Do you just want some company?” Drew asked. He wasn’t sure why he was talking to this dog, but it felt rude to just ignore him. He considered for a moment before deciding that letting the dog stay on the porch wouldn’t hurt anything. “Alright,” he conceded, “but no farther. You live in the yard.”
The dog raised his head and seemed to smile. Then he sneezed loudly.
“Ugh! Thanks for that,” Drew mumbled in disgust. He wiped his hand on the leg of his pants as the dog settled onto the floor, his head covering Drew’s right boot.
Drew strummed a few more random chords, having lost the thread of what he’d been playing before the interruption. “Do you like music?” he asked aloud. “I don’t usually play for anyone, but I guess you won’t tell people how bad I am, huh?”
The animal didn’t answer, and Drew shifted in his seat.
“Is your name really Ryker?” he asked, half expecting a rebuttal of some kind.
The dog thumped his tail against the floorboards but did not raise his head.
“Really? You like it?” Drew asked, surprised.
“Or do you just like that Savannah gave it to you?”
Ryker whined slightly at the mention of Savannah’s name, and Drew felt the corner of his mouth twitch. Yeah, he understood that sentiment—for better and for worse.
The denim-colored sky grew darker with every passing moment, and Drew strummed lazily, adding his notes to the nighttime symphony until he could barely see the instrument in his hands.
Finally, he leaned the guitar against the porch rail and stretched back in his chair, lacing his fingers across his lap.
He couldn’t pinpoint why, but he actually wished somebody had dropped by to bother him.
The sensation wasn’t new, but it was unexpected.
Ryker shifted near his feet, and Drew absentmindedly dropped a hand down beside his chair.
Moments later, a warm head rose to meet it.
Drew moved his hand across the dog’s scalp again and again, scratching gently behind the ears, and silently reminded himself not to get too comfortable.
Ryker would leave too, one day. Everyone always did.