Any Time, Any Place
Page 29
“Balin. Gandalf. Stay. Or I swear I’ll put you back in military doggy school and this time I won’t rescue you.”
His firm tone only increased their shaking. She sensed the battle was already lost.
“I mean it! I am not joking around—stay right there—oh, shit!”
They leapt.
Dalton tried to protect her by stepping in front, but the dogs moved like a flash, flying through the air with abandon and knocking into them so hard they both staggered back. Laughter ripped from her throat as they licked her furiously, bumping hard against her legs and acting as if they were Chihuahuas rather than canine giants. Dalton tugged at their collars to drag them off, but she finally caught her breath and managed to stand straight. Oh, they were adorable, but playtime was over. Time to teach them to obey.
She whipped out the command. “Gandalf, Balin, down!”
Without hesitation, they slammed their asses to the ground. They managed to be still enough that she nodded and smiled. “Good doggies. Good boys,” she crooned. “You just need some discipline, don’t you?” One began to rise again, and she firmed her voice. “I said down.”
He plunked back down.
Dalton’s mouth fell open. He blinked in astonishment. “Wait a minute. How did you do that?”
She patted their heads. They wriggled with pleasure but managed to keep their butts on the ground. “Huh? Oh, they just need to know who the alpha is. They’re still young, right? How old?”
“Two.”
“Oh, they should be listening better by now. Are they yours?”
“Cal’s, but we’ve all claimed them now. What do you mean alpha? Cal has always been firm with them. They flunked out of obedience school twice. We got blacklisted. They never listen.”
“Which one is this?” She pointed to the dog on the right. He had mud in his ears and a slightly bigger snout than the other one.
“That’s Balin.”
“Balin, down.” She lifted her hand and made the gesture to drop. “Lay down.”
Balin slid to the ground. Gandalf remained sitting.
“Good dog. Good Balin. Stay.” She turned her attention to Gandalf and made the same gesture and command. The second dog slid down to the ground, panting with happiness. “Good Gandalf. Stay.”
Raven smiled and turned to Dalton. His mouth was still hanging open like a guppy’s. “They want to listen, but it’s hard for them. Cal probably spoiled them as puppies and they never learned,” she said.
“Yeah, he found them chained to a tree in the woods. They almost didn’t survive.”
“Poor little guys. Makes sense.”
“Raven? How the hell did you do that?”
She shrugged. “My father used to call me the dog whisperer. Not sure. Something in my voice, maybe? I’ve just always been able to get them to listen.”
“I am so turned on right now.”
She couldn’t help the laugh that broke out. He was such an intriguing mix of sexy, brainy, and funny as hell. “Then Cesar Millan must be orgasmic to you.”
“He would if I swung that way.”
They stared at each other, smiling. Why did she feel so comfortable with this man? He had the amazing ability to calm her usual tightly wound energy and sharpness. As if he softened her some way.
She cleared her throat and broke the spell. “Do you want them to come with us?”
The dogs gave slight matching whimpers, as if they understood the conversation. “Sure. It’s getting dark and the woods are scary at night.”
“I’m not scared of the bogeyman, Dalton.”
“I’m talking about me.”
She shook her head, released the dogs, and watched them bound happily around her and Dalton. The sun was sinking over the horizon, scattering bursts of orange fire, shadowing the woods. The rich scents of earth and wood rose up to cloak them. Their feet were soundless over the pine-needled ground, other than the occasional crack of a twig or the dogs’ panting.
His fingers brushed hers. Lingered. Their pinkies intertwined. A simmer of heat hummed between them, reminding her that touching him was dangerous and not part of the plan. If he would’ve grasped her hand or made a sudden move, it would’ve been easy to pull away. But this seemed so natural, his touch just a whisper, giving her the option to break contact if she wished as they walked together through the woods.
Raven didn’t pull away.
A large shed came into view. A simple structure, with no fancy windows or trim. Suspicion formed as he tugged open the lock on the red double doors and began slowly opening them.
“Holy crap.”
The large space was filled with stuff. Tables, chairs, mirrors, clocks, cushions, artwork, rugs, and headboards. It was garage sale and antique heaven. She let out a breath as she stood in the doorway, taking in the glorious clutter that would happily fill hours of adventurous exploring.
When she’d lived with her father, they’d go up to the attic together and rummage through her mother’s things. She still remembered the musty scent of her dresses and scarves, the thrill of trying on the shoes and piling herself with jewelry. They’d flip through photo albums and she’d read while her father painted, the creaky floorboards and dusty windows an enchanted palace to her younger self. She’d felt sorry for girls who dreamed about being trapped in towers and rescued by princes, because her father was already her prince, and her tower was an old attic full of wonderful memories and magic where she wanted to live forever.
Raven swallowed back the raw emotion. Their fingers drifted apart.
“What is all this stuff?”
He cocked out a hip and studied the space. “Everything. When we do a project, there’s always a mishmash that doesn’t get used, so we put it in here. We just call it the shed. Morgan snagged a lot of pieces from here when she was designing the Rosenthals’ home, and Tristan loves to pillage it when he’s flipping houses. I like to grab pieces of wood or restore an antique I know will fit a certain person.”
“It’s amazing. This place is like a treasure trove.”
“I found something specifically for My Place. After you talked about instituting a poker night, I remembered we had something I know you’ll want.”
The dogs seemed to know the shed well enough that they didn’t need another foray. They bounded off on their own adventure, the sound of their paws fading away.
His firm tone only increased their shaking. She sensed the battle was already lost.
“I mean it! I am not joking around—stay right there—oh, shit!”
They leapt.
Dalton tried to protect her by stepping in front, but the dogs moved like a flash, flying through the air with abandon and knocking into them so hard they both staggered back. Laughter ripped from her throat as they licked her furiously, bumping hard against her legs and acting as if they were Chihuahuas rather than canine giants. Dalton tugged at their collars to drag them off, but she finally caught her breath and managed to stand straight. Oh, they were adorable, but playtime was over. Time to teach them to obey.
She whipped out the command. “Gandalf, Balin, down!”
Without hesitation, they slammed their asses to the ground. They managed to be still enough that she nodded and smiled. “Good doggies. Good boys,” she crooned. “You just need some discipline, don’t you?” One began to rise again, and she firmed her voice. “I said down.”
He plunked back down.
Dalton’s mouth fell open. He blinked in astonishment. “Wait a minute. How did you do that?”
She patted their heads. They wriggled with pleasure but managed to keep their butts on the ground. “Huh? Oh, they just need to know who the alpha is. They’re still young, right? How old?”
“Two.”
“Oh, they should be listening better by now. Are they yours?”
“Cal’s, but we’ve all claimed them now. What do you mean alpha? Cal has always been firm with them. They flunked out of obedience school twice. We got blacklisted. They never listen.”
“Which one is this?” She pointed to the dog on the right. He had mud in his ears and a slightly bigger snout than the other one.
“That’s Balin.”
“Balin, down.” She lifted her hand and made the gesture to drop. “Lay down.”
Balin slid to the ground. Gandalf remained sitting.
“Good dog. Good Balin. Stay.” She turned her attention to Gandalf and made the same gesture and command. The second dog slid down to the ground, panting with happiness. “Good Gandalf. Stay.”
Raven smiled and turned to Dalton. His mouth was still hanging open like a guppy’s. “They want to listen, but it’s hard for them. Cal probably spoiled them as puppies and they never learned,” she said.
“Yeah, he found them chained to a tree in the woods. They almost didn’t survive.”
“Poor little guys. Makes sense.”
“Raven? How the hell did you do that?”
She shrugged. “My father used to call me the dog whisperer. Not sure. Something in my voice, maybe? I’ve just always been able to get them to listen.”
“I am so turned on right now.”
She couldn’t help the laugh that broke out. He was such an intriguing mix of sexy, brainy, and funny as hell. “Then Cesar Millan must be orgasmic to you.”
“He would if I swung that way.”
They stared at each other, smiling. Why did she feel so comfortable with this man? He had the amazing ability to calm her usual tightly wound energy and sharpness. As if he softened her some way.
She cleared her throat and broke the spell. “Do you want them to come with us?”
The dogs gave slight matching whimpers, as if they understood the conversation. “Sure. It’s getting dark and the woods are scary at night.”
“I’m not scared of the bogeyman, Dalton.”
“I’m talking about me.”
She shook her head, released the dogs, and watched them bound happily around her and Dalton. The sun was sinking over the horizon, scattering bursts of orange fire, shadowing the woods. The rich scents of earth and wood rose up to cloak them. Their feet were soundless over the pine-needled ground, other than the occasional crack of a twig or the dogs’ panting.
His fingers brushed hers. Lingered. Their pinkies intertwined. A simmer of heat hummed between them, reminding her that touching him was dangerous and not part of the plan. If he would’ve grasped her hand or made a sudden move, it would’ve been easy to pull away. But this seemed so natural, his touch just a whisper, giving her the option to break contact if she wished as they walked together through the woods.
Raven didn’t pull away.
A large shed came into view. A simple structure, with no fancy windows or trim. Suspicion formed as he tugged open the lock on the red double doors and began slowly opening them.
“Holy crap.”
The large space was filled with stuff. Tables, chairs, mirrors, clocks, cushions, artwork, rugs, and headboards. It was garage sale and antique heaven. She let out a breath as she stood in the doorway, taking in the glorious clutter that would happily fill hours of adventurous exploring.
When she’d lived with her father, they’d go up to the attic together and rummage through her mother’s things. She still remembered the musty scent of her dresses and scarves, the thrill of trying on the shoes and piling herself with jewelry. They’d flip through photo albums and she’d read while her father painted, the creaky floorboards and dusty windows an enchanted palace to her younger self. She’d felt sorry for girls who dreamed about being trapped in towers and rescued by princes, because her father was already her prince, and her tower was an old attic full of wonderful memories and magic where she wanted to live forever.
Raven swallowed back the raw emotion. Their fingers drifted apart.
“What is all this stuff?”
He cocked out a hip and studied the space. “Everything. When we do a project, there’s always a mishmash that doesn’t get used, so we put it in here. We just call it the shed. Morgan snagged a lot of pieces from here when she was designing the Rosenthals’ home, and Tristan loves to pillage it when he’s flipping houses. I like to grab pieces of wood or restore an antique I know will fit a certain person.”
“It’s amazing. This place is like a treasure trove.”
“I found something specifically for My Place. After you talked about instituting a poker night, I remembered we had something I know you’ll want.”
The dogs seemed to know the shed well enough that they didn’t need another foray. They bounded off on their own adventure, the sound of their paws fading away.
