Chapter 2
ARLEN
Cat . How fucking ironic.
The only creatures I’ve ever truly loved, ever felt any kinship with, are dogs. People have always said that I was raised by a pack of wild dogs. Growing up an orphan, I liked that story.
I imagined myself in the woods, running naked with big, powerful wolves. We’d howl at the moon like we could bring it down. The wind lashed at my body as I ran, but in my fantasy, I always tore through it like butter.
When I was little, I’d growl at other kids. They’d laugh and say, There goes dog-boy! and I’d growl like I was going to tear their throats out. I guess I never stopped growling, not really.
It suits me. It keeps people away.
Sure, I have connections with a lot of shelters and nonprofits. They know me as the man who will always take another dog on, no questions asked. We have the same mission, but that doesn’t mean I have to like any of the people I work with. They annoy the hell out of me.
I never imagined I’d meet someone who I wanted around. Now that she’s here, I can’t imagine her leaving.
Cat . All that woman stuffed into cargo shorts, a baggy long sleeve, and boots. Covered in mud from her fall, doe-eyed and a bit delirious. Is she truly that impressed by my ranch, or is it something more?
Maybe I scare her. That would be normal.
If only she knew that I’m the one with everything to fear.
She comes back with two young chocolate Labs leashed and pulling. Any other day, and I’d be tripping over myself to welcome those pups. Today, I only have eyes for her.
Her hair is blacker than the blackest cat’s fur, cut short around her shoulders, with curls that sometimes hang over her eyes.
Green eyes, so perfectly suited for the woods and the mountain.
She gets tangled up in the tethers, laughing as she spins around; I get the perfect view of her curvy butt, still caked with mud from when she fell.
I should offer her some clothes, or a shower, or my fucking bed for the night.
No, not the night. Forever.
“Here they are,” she says. “Miles and Dane. Brothers.”
Even with the two new puppies losing their minds, all the dogs sit and wait for my command.
Cat looks them all over and nods. “Wow. They’re all so well-trained.”
I grunt in response, not sure I possess enough words to hold a conversation with her. Usually, I try to keep my interactions with humans as short as possible…
She smiles and brushes the hair from her eyes. “So, should I let them off leash?”
I hold my hand up, palm toward Cat, and instantly cringe. It’s a signal I use with the dogs to hold.
“Sorry,” I say. “Hold them.”
All these years spent alone are really paying off…
One by one, I let the dogs introduce themselves. I say a name, and a dog steps up excitedly to sniff out our newcomers.
There’s Shade, a five-year-old husky who thinks he’s the boss around here. He struts up, sniffs, yowls a bit, then trots around a few times before plopping down next to Miles like he’s taking him under his wing… or paw.
Queen goes next, a Dachshund too smart for her own good. The little dog takes a few polite sniffs before coming back to me for a treat.
One by one, the dogs say hello. There are only a few moments where I have to grunt or growl to get a dog to back off or stop jumping on the puppies.
Once introductions are made, Cat lets Dane and Miles off leash.
They tear out across the field, obviously new to having so much land to run on.
Grass flies up from under their paws. They howl like they’ve never been so happy.
Cat and I laugh watching all the dogs chase them around. Those puppies will probably run hard for twenty minutes before passing out where they fall.
“Never gets old,” I say quietly.
Cat steps up next to me. “What’s that?”
I glance at her. “A dog running free after it’s been penned up. Nothing better.”
That’s a damn lie. Seeing her for the first time tops everything I’ve ever experienced. I saw her lying there in the mud, and I knew I’d never forget that moment.
Cat looks like she’s about to cry.
“Uh… you alright?” I ask, turning and nearly placing a hand on her arm. If I touch her again, there’s no telling what I might do.
I feel like those puppies running all over the property. They’ve been given freedom, so they run.
I’ve been presented with the woman of my dreams, and I need to… I need to run , too.
“Oh. I’m great,” she says, biting her lip. “Thank you for taking them, Arlen. For everything you do here. This place… it’s beautiful.”
I blush. “These dogs deserve better than what they’ve been given.”
“Well, they seem to be doing alright now. Thanks to you. How many do you have here?”
“Twenty-six, including Dane and Miles.”
Cat’s jaw drops.
This is usually where the person I’m talking to says that I’m crazy.
How could anyone want to live like this?
My whole life revolves around these dogs.
I wake up, and my day is about taking care of them.
Feeding them. Picking up after them. Making sure they eat their medicine.
Taking them to the vet. Talking to the goddamn folks at shelters.
Most people smile and nod politely. They sneer behind my back. I’m the crazy dog man on the mountain. I always have been, really, even before I started fostering.
Cat makes a sound that’s half laugh, half gasp. She throws her hands over her mouth, tears in her eyes. “Can… can I give you a hug?”
I go rigid. “Uh…”
She throws herself at me, arms around my shoulders. This girl ain’t anywhere near my height, so she practically comes up off her feet.
Slowly, I let myself place my hands on her back, fingers digging deeply. She’s soft and warm, head resting against my chest. Mud gets all over my clothes, but I don’t care.
I inhale the citrus scent in her curly hair and feel my blood rushing where it shouldn’t.
“You’re a good man,” she sniffs, tears soaking my flannel. “Sometimes, I lose faith in people. Who could leave two puppies in a box on the street?”
I hold her tighter, hoping she never lets go. “Fuck people.”
“Yeah,” she laughs. “They suck, sometimes.”
More like all the time.
Cat sighs, shaking her head against me. “I can’t believe the woman at the shelter said you were an asshole.”
“She what—“
“But I get you,” she says. “You’d do anything for these dogs. I see that. I understand that. My roommate thought I was crazy for driving six hours to bring the dogs up here. But why wouldn’t I? They needed help, and I could help. It’s that simple.”
Her words are wrapping around my heart. She speaks, and I feel it being squeezed, claimed by her nurturing voice.
That’s not the only thing pulsing and beating.
My eyes go wide, and I gently press Cat off of me. Luckily, she looks up with tear-streaked cheeks. I don’t think she notices the bulge in my pants.
Still, I drop my hands casually, pretending to hold my belt buckle.
“Six-hour drive…” I stare at the sky. “Rain coming…”
Cat misinterprets what I’m saying. She tucks her lips into her mouth, nods, and wipes her cheeks clean. “Yeah. Right. I should really be on my way. Here I am, balling like an idiot. You’re probably ready to be rid of me. Thank you again, Arlen. I… I hope to see you again someday.”
As she turns, I catch her by the arm.
Cat gasps.
She’s so delicate, so small in my grasp. I could sweep her into my arms, storm into the house, and throw her down in front of the fire. To hell with getting her cleaned up. I’d rather rip her clothes off and take her, mud and all, right fucking now.
The animal in me growls and licks its chops.
But I release her, go through sheer force of will.
“Stay.” The word comes off like a command. To be fair, I only ever talk to dogs.
Cat tilts her head, eyes narrowed.
“I mean…” I close my eyes and growl at myself, forcing out more than one word. “Six hours is a long drive. The roads will be dangerous in the rain. You should stay.”
“Stay here ?” She glances toward the house. “Like, stay the night?”
I shrug. “You could shower and change out of those muddy clothes. I know it’s weird. I’m weird for offering. People think I’m weird… but you shouldn’t drive—“
“You’re right.”
My mouth opens and shuts a few times. “I am?”
“Of course. It’s getting late, and those clouds look scary,” Cat sighs and looks down at herself. “I’m filthy, tired, and if I’m being honest, my ankle hurts a bit.”
I instantly kneel, fussing over her legs. “Which one? Are you alright? Do you need me to take you to a hospital?”
“Arlen, I’m fine,” she laughs.
For some reason, she pats me on the head.
If I had a tail, I’d wag it.
“I have a hot pad inside, and I’ll get some more logs on the fire,” I say, staring at her boots, afraid to even look up at this goddess. “Some ibuprofen, a shower, fresh clothes, dinner…”
I could go on forever listing all the things I’d like to do for this woman. All things I want to do. Strip you down. Massage you from head to toe. Taste every inch of your pale, perfect skin…
What the hell is happening to me?
This girl must be in her twenties… I’m an old man in her eyes. If she knew what I was thinking, she’d laugh in my face. She’d tell everyone at the shelter what an old pervert I am, and then they’d never call me for fostering dogs again. It’s bad enough that they think I’m an asshole.
Well, I am kind of an asshole.
“You’re not so bad, Arlen,” she says as I stand up. “Not the grumpy old man that I heard about.”
Old man .
I turn my back on her, watching the puppies run in and out of the barn.
“I’ve got things to take care of out here,” I say. “You can go inside. Shower is upstairs. Clean towels are in the closet before you go in… I’ll bring you some clothes.”
“Thank you,” she says. “You’re really—“
“Don’t mention it.”
I start walking.
The dogs rush over to me, showing me all the love I’ve ever needed.
That is, until this damn girl walked onto my property.
Now, I’m not sure how I’ll make it through the night.
I’ve invited her to stay. An agonizing night of fighting against this primal urge that’s risen inside of me. It scrapes at the bars around my soul, clawing and growling.
If I’m not careful, it’ll break free.
She’ll see the real me, and she’ll know that I’m so, so much worse than the things she heard.