Chapter 6
“He has no microchip or registration,” the vet told me the next morning. She was about my age, and her name tag said Kat Barker, which had to be the coolest name for a vet I’d ever seen. “And he’s underweight. I’d say he’s been on his own for a while. But other than that, he seems in good health.”
The dog moved his gaze from her to me as though he was following our conversation. He was sitting on her examination table, his tail gently wagging back and forth across the metal surface. He looked like he was grinning.
“I posted on the lost-and-found page, but nobody’s claimed him yet.”
“Hmm.” The vet took another look at his teeth. “I know most of the local dogs. He could have been dumped by someone passing through. It happens sometimes.”
“Who’d do that? Man, some people suck!”
She nodded with feeling, and we shared a silent moment of disgust for dog-abandoners.
“What type of dog is he?” I asked.
Doctor Barker scratched him behind the ears and made his tail wag faster. “A mixed breed, but they often have the best temperament. He seems like a sweetie.” She pushed back the dog’s shaggy bangs to get a better look at his friendly black eyes. Under all that matted hair, the dog was cute. And it seemed like I was leaving him in great hands. The vet would take good care of him.
“Okay,” I said, checking the time on my phone. Thankfully, I was on a later shift today, starting at eight and finishing at four. But the dog’s examination had taken longer than I expected, and I was barely going to make it. “Well, if he isn’t sick or anything, that’s good, right? So thanks a lot, Doctor. And goodbye, Dog. It was nice knowing you.” I started toward the door.
“Wait!” she called. “Where are you going? You can’t leave your dog here.”
I stopped reluctantly, my heart sinking. “But he’s not my dog. His owner’s likely to come here to find him, but if not, you must know lots of people looking for a dog just like him.” I gave her a hopeful smile.
She shook her head. “I’ll ask around. But in the meantime, you’ll need to take him with you.”
“I’m only in town for a few weeks. Then I’m going back to New York to look for a new apartment. And I don’t know the first thing about taking care of a dog. The only animals I’ve ever owned are my kitten heels.”
Lifting a foot, I showed her my shoes. I’d hesitated about wearing them to work, but convinced myself the heels were low enough to be practical, seeing as they went so well with my red pants and made my legs look longer.
“You could take him to the animal shelter,” she suggested. “The closest one is in Knoxville.”
“Could I leave him here for the day while I go to work? I’m supposed to start in ten minutes.”
She looked apologetic, and I already knew what she was going to say before she started in on a long explanation as to why they didn’t have the room to keep him, even for the day.
Fifteen minutes later, I pulled Noah’s flame-painted truck into the parking lot outside the Donner Bakery. The dog was sitting next to me, staring happily out of the window as though he hadn’t made me late for work.
“What am I going to do with you, Dog?” I asked as I cut off the engine. “Will you be okay waiting in the truck? I can’t take you into the bakery with me, can I?”
The dog grinned at me, sitting up in the passenger seat like an inconvenient doofus.
I hesitated with my hand on the door handle. “Today’s shift is eight hours long,” I told him. “I’ll have a few breaks when I can let you out, but will that be enough?”
Would it be cruel to leave him in the pickup that long? Would it get too hot? He’d need water, wouldn’t he?
Wait. Were there any laws against this?
The last thing I needed was for a cop to come into the bakery looking for the inhumane monster who’d left a dog in their truck.
“Shit.” I puffed out a sigh. “Okay. I’ll take you back to Carla’s house so you can stay there for the day. But you’ll have to wait here while I go in and explain how I’m going to be an hour late for work—on my second day—because I have to drive all the way home to drop you off.”
I emphasized the “second day” part, even though it was clear the dog didn’t care. We’d already established he didn’t have much of a social conscience. He would have eaten Freud’s breakfast as well as his own this morning if I’d let him.
“Wait here,” I repeated, and slid out of the truck.
Apparently, the dog hadn’t been to obedience school, because he ignored my order. He catapulted out of the door before I could close it, then bounced around me excitedly, not paying any attention to my commands to get back into the truck.
Then I heard a familiar rattle and grinding of gears. Turning, I recognized the old pickup truck that was pulling into a parking spot near the bakery’s front door. With a final wheeze, the clanking engine shut off, then the driver’s door opened.
Hagrid slid out, wearing what looked like the same hideous flannel shirt as yesterday. Only now it had to be a day dirtier.
I could not shudder hard enough.
But come to think of it, could Hagrid be an answer to my problem? There was no dog in his pickup truck, and didn’t dogs and country bumpkins go together like Jack Daniel’s and Coke? Even criminals could be kind to animals, right? And the fact he didn’t already have a dog with him had to be a misdemeanor in the state of Tennessee.
Hagrid started walking to the bakery door. With his back to me, all I could see was his too-long tangle of black hair and his oversized shirt. What was his real name again? Dammit, I was usually good with names, but all I could think of was the Harry Potter character.
“Hey, Hagrid!” I strode toward him, the dog bouncing around near my feet.
He turned to face me, and his gaze landed on mine. The air whooshed out of my lungs. Those eyes! How could a backwater bumpkin like him have eyes like that? And now I was looking, had I ever seen a man with such sharp cheekbones? Under all that unruly hair, he must have an angular, masculine face.
“What did you call me this time?” Hagrid asked in his low, rumbly voice, an annoyed frown weighing heavily over his eyes. “My name is Cy. It’s only two letters. C. Y. That’s not too complicated for you, is it? It could hardly get any easier.”
The dog ran over to him, sniffing his ankles with interest, and Cy bent to pet him. Judging by the easy way he stroked down his side, the bumpkin must like dogs. That was an excellent sign.
“Okay,” I said, trying to arrange my features into a pleasant expression. “You’ve got yourself a deal. I’ll call you by your name if you take the dog with you. What do you say?”
He straightened. “Take the dog? What does that mean?”
“I’m late for work and if I have to drop the dog off at my place, I’ll be even later. I mean, I never wanted a dog in the first place, and you seem like a dog person. So you can take him, right?” I dug deep to force out one more word. “Please?”
“You’d hand your dog over to a stranger?” His tone was disapproving. Another good sign. He was definitely an animal lover.
“He’s not my dog. He just showed up, and then I couldn’t get rid of him.”
“Get rid of him?” Cy recoiled.
I blinked at his shocked tone. Maybe I’d used the wrong phrase. Did he think I’d tried to kill the dog?
Before I could clarify that I’d only intended to leave the dog with the vet until his owner showed up, Cy crouched by the dog’s side. There was something so protective in the way his big hands stroked the dog’s head that the explanation dried in my throat. His icy gaze bored into me, his eyes narrow. And for some reason, I was suddenly flustered.
“Um.” I cleared my throat. “So will you take him?”
“What do you mean the dog just showed up? He’s a stray?”
I nodded. “His real owner will probably be looking for him, and the vet has my phone number. By tonight, he’s likely to be claimed.”
Cy frowned at me as he stood. Then he ran his hand over the rat’s nest of his beard, not managing to smooth it, but somehow messing it up even more. He was clearly thinking my request over, but I could imagine how his thoughts must run as slowly as syrup. I didn’t have time to let him ruminate.
“My shift started five minutes ago.” I waved a desperate hand at the dog. “Look how cute he is. And he’s smart. Probably a great guard dog. He could guard your crop, or whatever.”
Cy’s eyebrows jerked up. They were surprisingly tidy considering the rest of his hair was a scruffy nightmare.
“My crop?” He growled the words as though I’d pissed him off.
Whoops.
“I just meant the dog can help you with whatever it is you do all day.” Trying to backpedal, I took a wild stab at other options. “Maybe he could chase raccoons out of your cornfield. Or, I don’t know...keep intruders away from your moonshine distillery.”
“Stop talking.” He folded his arms across his wide chest. “You haven’t uttered a single thing that isn’t offensive. I’d rather listen to a field of roosters at four in the morning than hear another word from you.”
Ugh. I was making a mess of this.
“How about I promise to stop talking if you take the dog?” I asked.
“Tempting.”
I pressed my lips together and lifted a hand to mime turning a key over them. Then I threw the key away over my shoulder.
He studied me silently for what felt like forever. Meanwhile, I shifted from one foot to the other, widening my eyes to look imploring. Though I was very conscious of time ticking by as I got even later for work, I managed to resist the urge to break the silence.
“Some people can’t be trusted with animals,” he finally grumbled under his breath.
“Right?” I exclaimed. “I was going to shut him in my truck all day.”
His brow drew down. “You can’t do that.”
“Exactly. The poor dog deserves better than me.”
He grunted. “No argument. What’s his name?”
Yes!I gave him a relieved grin and a farewell wave. “It’s whatever you want it to be. I need to run.” Then I dashed toward the bakery’s staff entrance as fast as my kitten heels would carry me.
“Wait!”
I turned reluctantly, walking backward to show how much of a hurry I was in. “Yeah?”
“You don’t have a collar for him, or a leash, or?—?”
“Nope. None of that.”
“What’s your name?” He projected his voice across the widening gap between us.
I stared at him a moment. Karen Smith’s warning to stay away from him was ringing in my ears. Making a quick decision, I shook my head. “You don’t need to know my name,” I called back.
His brow drew down in a puzzled frown, and his eyes narrowed as though he was trying to understand why I didn’t want to tell him. Then I guess he figured it out because his expression hardened.
Whistling for the dog to follow, he turned and strode stiffly away.