CHAPTER 12 #2
Ian’s head jerked to the left, only to be licked in the face by a hot, slobbery tongue. He got a whiff of dog breath, fur grazed his cheek, and Ian turned his head again just before being nailed right on the nose.
“Puppy!” Claire rolled off Ian and sat up, and immediately, she was replaced by a jumping, wiggling, tail-wagging fur ball with needlelike teeth that raked Ian’s forearm.
“Ow!”
The fuzzy yellow Lab lunged at Ian’s burger, chomping and swallowing it whole before Ian could blink.
“Little thief.” He scooped up the squirming blond canine and lifted it to look into soulful dark brown eyes. The animal panted with burger breath and a goofy doggy grin. A leash dangled from the blue Tampa Bay Lightning collar around his neck. Ian turned it, revealing a riveted brass plate.
“Bolt.” He chuckled. The name was fitting. “Who did you escape from?”
Claire reached to stroke the pup under the chin and narrowly avoided getting chomped. “Mouthy little thing, aren’t you?”
Bolt wagged so hard that even his rear wiggled.
“You are so darned cute.” She looked around. “Where is your human?” Bolt gave a happy bark and licked her hand.
Ian smiled. Dogs were good judges of character, his brother Adam always said.
Grabbing the leash, he pulled one corner of the blanket and dragged it a little, enticing the dog into a lively game of tug. Bolt sank his teeth into the wool, tugging with such enthusiasm that the whites of his eyes became visible.
Claire grinned. “He looks like he has googly eyes.”
Ian chuckled. “Goofball.” He pulled on the blanket, careful not to yank too hard in case the little guy had begun teething.
Bolt growled and tugged, shaking his head and making his floppy ears flap hilariously.
Claire laughed. The sound was music to Ian’s ears, and he glanced at her to catch her smiling in a way that warmed his insides.
“Bolt!” a worried female voice called. The next moment, a woman rounded a tree.
“He’s here! We’ve got him!” Claire waved.
The woman stopped short, her shoulders sagging with relief.
She hurried toward them, wiping sweat off her forehead.
“Oh, thank God.” Slowing as she neared, she eyed the energetic puppy and shook her head.
“Thank you so much for grabbing him. I swear, he’s trying to live up to his name.
This is the third time he’s done this. I should have called him something else. ”
Claire nodded. “Yeah, like, maybe, Panther.”
Ian grinned. Damn. A Florida Panthers fan. Apparently, Claire liked hockey. As if she didn’t already tick enough boxes.
The woman brightened. “Right? I like the Panthers too. My husband is a Lightning fan, though, and it’s his dog, so, Bolt.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, my God, did he bite you? I’m so sorry.”
Ian glanced where the woman looked. A couple of scratches on his arm.
He shrugged. “No worries. My sister likes German Shepherds. They call them land sharks. Every other breed seems easy once you’ve been around one of those pups.
This little dude is great, aren’t you, tough guy?
” He passed the woman the leash. “OK, game time over. Let go.” He slipped his thumb between the puppy’s teeth and pushed down on his tongue, causing him to immediately unhinge his jaw and release the corner of the blanket. “Good boy.”
The woman stared, her mouth agape. “How did you do that? He never lets go! Ever!”
Smiling, Ian showed her the trick his sister had taught him and spent the next few minutes answering questions about dog training. He was no expert, but he shared what he could.
“Thank you so much,” the woman said, holding the leash the way Ian had shown her, thumb through the loop handle, some slack in her closed fist. “Any advice on how to stop him from, uh, bolting?”
Ian thought for a moment. “It might help to play a game of fetch to tire him a bit before you walk him so he won’t be primed to run.”
He bent to give Bolt a last ear scratch and watched the woman lead him away, the dog bounding beside her with that typical sloppy puppy gait. He felt eyes on him and turned to find Claire looking at him in a way he’d never seen before. Instant stirrings began again.
“I need to go.” She smoothed her skirt, which, he noted with satisfaction, was wrinkled. “The neighbor’s with my mom, and I want to bring her something to eat.”
Was that regret he sensed? He hoped it was about having to leave. “OK.”
Her gaze dipped to the obvious bulge below his belt, and a little smile curved her lips. He knew what she was thinking. Ian shook his head. Yeah. Cockblocked by a yellow Lab, for fuck’s sake.
She began gathering wrappers, napkins, and leftovers, popping a fry into her mouth. He picked up the shake cups and headed for a nearby trash can, wondering how she would have finished what she’d started had Bolt not interrupted.
He swung around to see her bent over, starting to roll the blanket, and Ian had to squeeze his eyes shut.
It didn’t work.
Christ. He was so damned uncomfortable and knew he would be for the next half hour.
“I guess I owe you one,” she said over her shoulder.
He smirked. “You think?”
“I’ll make it up to you.”
“When?”
“I’ll call you.”
He picked up the cooler and felt his heart begin to pound. “Does that mean we have an arrangement?”
She nodded. “I’ll take you up on your … offer. But that’s all.”
“That’s all I want.”
She paused for a beat, then rose to her feet and handed him the rolled-up blanket, her eyes unreadable. He tucked it under his arm.
“I’ll go throw these away.”
“Meet you at the car.”
Ian watched the gentle sway of her hips as she walked toward the trash can. He’d gotten what he wanted. Why, then, did it feel like he hadn’t?