The drive through town is awkward, with me nudging the dog’s head back with my elbow, the dog tickling me by sticking his nose repeatedly in my side, and the moment when he scares the pee out of me by inserting his muzzle to the left of my head. Despite my efforts to distance myself, the dog has decided to adopt me.
At one stoplight, he attempts to insert his thin body through the console area. “Enough,” I say in a gravelly tone that mimics a dog growl.
He sulks back and I immediately feel guilty.
Toby pulls into a neighborhood with older houses. Most of them are shotgun style, running the length of the lot in one long rectangle. The driveway is narrow and he parks under a one-car awning.
I park and get out. “Where are you going to put him?” There’s no fence and no doghouse. I tug the opening of my jacket closed and bite back any more questions.
“Inside. I wouldn’t leave him out here.”
“Good.” I eye the dark windows of Toby’s house. Either he lives alone or the roommate is out.
Toby opens the back door of my car. The dog doesn’t budge.
I hold out my hand. “Come on, doggie. Toby doesn’t have all night.”
The dog squeezes into the corner of my back seat, as far from the open door as possible.
Toby sighs and then blows into his hands. “You’ve made a friend in a short time. Come on bud, it’s too cold for Emerson.”
“You have any food inside?” I glance at his windows.
“Good idea. Be back in a second.”
Toby disappears into the house and the dog eyes me warily. “I need to get home,” I say as I sit at the edge of my back seat. The dog moves toward me and places his chin on my lap.
Toby appears with a piece of sandwich meat. “You want this?” He waves the slice back and forth at the dog.
I get to my feet and move out of the way, fully expecting the dog to charge full force out of the car. No such luck. “What’s the matter?” I run a hand over the dog’s head.
“I don’t think he’s scared of me, so I’m not sure what’s holding him back.” Toby hands the meat to me. “You try.”
“Maybe he doesn’t like bologna.” I tear off a piece and hold it as a gentle offering. The dog immediately moves along the seat toward me. He hesitates and I meet him halfway with the food.
The piece disappears in one gulp.
I back up and hold another one. The dog follows and allows me to feed him a bite. “This all you have?”
He rubs a hand across the back of his neck. “I promise I have food. Really. But that was the last slice of bologna. Just a second. I’ll get a piece of bread or cheese.”
Toby disappears again and I stamp my feet and shiver. “Dog, I am freezing. Follow me.”
I walk to the open door where Toby disappeared seconds ago and the dog walks close to my heels. I lead him inside and shut the door. The dog and I stand in the dark living room. A light shines from the next room, which I assume is the kitchen.
“Hey. He followed me inside,” I yell.
Toby appears in the doorway with a box of crackers in one hand and Velveeta cheese in the other. “I seem to be low on certain grocery supplies. I have pickles. But I thought...well...”
“He’ll probably eat anything, so I’m sure it’s fine. Mind if I turn on this lamp?”
“Sorry. Please do.” Toby opens the box of crackers. “Come here, bud. Emerson’s not staying the night. You’re stuck with me.”
As if in complete understanding of what Toby’s said, the dog trots forward and accepts a cracker. Toby looks up at me. “Thanks for bringing him over. You’ve probably saved his life.”
“Happy to do it.” I back away to the door, staring at the dog as he waits patiently for another cracker.
“I’m going to call you. Maybe you’ll change your mind.”
“Toby, you’re a nice guy, and I don’t want you to waste your time.”
He hands a cracker to the dog. “I’d never call it a waste. Maybe we become friends. Maybe we become more. I’m optimistic about all things that I can influence, because I can make it happen. The only way nothing happens is if I don’t call you.”
I stare at him, my mouth hanging open a little. “You’re seriously not taking no for an answer?”
“I want to be friends. I don’t know beyond that. But I’d like to call you.” He puts up one finger. “Don’t leave yet.” Then, he moves back into the kitchen.
When he returns, he has a small platter of cheese cubes. “But seriously. I’m not going to stalk you or anything, and if you tell me that we can’t even be friends, I won’t call.”
The dog walks over to the door where I stand. I’m puzzled since this is away from the cheese cubes. Then he lies down in front of the door, effectively blocking my exit.
“See?” Toby crouches to hold out a cheese cube. “The dog says you can’t say this is the end of this friendship.”
I grin at that. “Okay. Okay. Call me.”
“Move, bud. She’s going to take our call.”
At this, the dog rises and putters across the room to retrieve his cheese.
“Talk to you later.” I close the door softly behind me and shiver as I walk to my car. My phone rings, and I cradle it between my shoulder and head as I unlock the car door.
“Hello.”
“Emerson. Where are you?” Gabby’s sniffling and her voice trembles.
“At a friend’s. Why?” Here it comes. I place bets with myself on whether her latest boyfriend has dumped her.
“Someone broke in.”
“What do you mean?” I start the engine and quickly back out of Toby’s driveway. “What happened?”
“I got home and everything was messed up and broken and—wait, there’s someone at the door. I called the police. Gotta go.” The phone disconnects.
Gabby’s words push every panic button in my body. My hand trembles on the steering wheel and I tighten my fingers, pressing the hard grooves of the plastic into the palms of my hand. A light from an oncoming vehicle blinds me and I drop my phone onto the floorboard.
My ringtone sounds near my feet, forcing me to pull over to the side of the road. I reach down and retrieve the phone. “Gabby? Are you okay?”
“It’s Dylan,” he says.
I take a second to regroup. “Can I call you back? I’m in my car and need to hurry home.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Gabby’s there and someone broke in tonight. I need to go.”
“I’m coming over.”
“No, don’t. I just...well...I just need to get home.”
Silence. “Dylan? Dylan?” I panic at the thought of him being in my business—there in the middle of whatever the mess is now—Jesus. What’s with people hanging up on me?
Chapter Six
Dangerous
Dylan
My usual MO is to call a woman when I actually want something—dinner, night out, night in. But I’m not a total dick. Unless having an MO puts me in that category.
Possibly, it does.