Arrogant Devil(47)

“Go back home, Alfred!” I shout, assuming my words will hit their mark.

He doesn’t budge. His tail swings back and forth in the grass.

“Go on!” I wave my arms menacingly. “Get!”

I’ve become Frankie Muniz in My Dog Skip. Alfred is supposed to walk off dejectedly and the audience is supposed to cry, but Alfred, who promptly listens to every command Jack utters, seems to turn a deaf ear to me.

I sigh and tell him to stay—adding in a dramatic STOP hand motion—and then I continue my walk. He does stay for a little while, but then he hops right back up.

It’s not like I’m that scared of him anymore. In the last few days, I’ve even gotten used to having him around. He’s always in the farmhouse, sleeping on his bed or under the kitchen table, and I feed him and replenish his water bowl. Earlier, he came to lie down near my feet while I was baking, and I didn’t even notice until I nearly stepped on him.

Still, there’s a difference between tolerance and active friendship. I’d prefer the former; Alfred clearly disagrees.

He gets closer to me and trots along at my side. I glance down at him with pursed lips, and he nudges my palm with his nose, like he’s saying, See? I’m nice. Please love me.

He is pretty cute with his floppy ears and golden coat. Dammit.

I sigh and give in to him. We walk together for a few more minutes in silence before I ask him how he likes the weather. He ignores me. Then, because why the hell not, I start to tell him about my day, and then that somehow morphs into me explaining to him why it hurts my feelings that I don’t have a better relationship with Helen. I divulge the fact that even when we were younger, we didn’t get along that well. He’s the perfect listener, doesn’t interrupt me even once, and before I know it, we crest over the top of a hill and I spot the creek.

Except, it’s not a creek—it’s a river! Or at least it looks like one to me: wide, crystal clear, and rimmed with cypress trees, wildflowers, and ferns. The path I’m on dead-ends in a little clearing on the bank of the creek. It looks like a perfect, pebbly beach entrance.

Alfred and I step closer. Even though the creek flows pretty quick, I figure it’s not going so fast that it’d sweep me away to the Gulf of Mexico.

I can’t gauge how deep it gets in the center, which means it probably goes well over my head. To my left, there’s an overgrown oak tree with a rope swing hanging down. The knot at the top cuts into the tree’s limb, and it’s probably been up there for a while.

Even though it’s early evening, the sun is still blazing overhead. The temperature has to be in the high 90s, and our walk built up a nice layer of sweat on my skin. Swimming sounds heavenly.

I turn to Alfred and dab sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. “What do you think? Should we swim?”

Alfred leaps into the water before I even have time to remove my shoes, splashing and pouncing and lapping it up like he’s having the time of his life.

“Looks like we’ve finally found some common ground,” I say, kicking off my sneakers and stuffing my socks inside. “You go on ahead and make sure to scare off any snakes.”

I chance a quick glance behind us to confirm we’re alone then strip off my t-shirt and shorts—not that it even matters if a ranch hand sees us since my underwear and bra provide more coverage than most of the bikinis I used to own.

“How is it?” I ask after I stow my things on dry land and make my way to the creek’s edge. The water’s so nice and clear, I’ll be able to see my feet on the algae-covered pebbles. “Refreshing?”

My toes hit the water and I let out a wild “AH!”

It’s FREEZING.

Alfred turns and looks at me, head tilted.

“How is it so cold!?” I cry. “Is this runoff from a freaking glacier?”

He ignores me and goes back to leaping around in the water. Right. I take another few steps, hissing and huffing and puffing as I get acclimated to the temperature. I know I’m being a wimp, and I’ll never make it all the way in at this rate. There’s only one way to swim in cold water, and that’s by plunging under in one quick go. So, I inhale, hold my nose, and dive.

Cold water blasts me from all sides like I just dropped myself into an ice bucket. It’s so cold it burns, but then just like that, my body is used to it. I break the surface and whip my hair out of my face.

“Woo!”

Alfred barks and doggy-paddles toward me.

We swim farther from the edge, but I’m still a few yards away from where the current looks the strongest in the center of the creek. Where I am, there’s nothing to worry about.

Alfred swims toward me with a stick then drops it on the water’s surface, nudging it forward with his nose. I take the hint and toss it toward shore, and he darts after it, fetching it back to me in record time. We repeat the cycle for a while. My arm starts to ache, but I push through the pain because he looks so damn happy. Eventually, out of desperation, I toss the stick into the current and say, “No more!” then flop back to float on my back. My arms and legs stretch out around me as I tilt my chin to the sky and close my eyes. He circles me like a shark.

“What do you think of your master?” I ask lazily.

He barks.

“I know, handsome, but that personality—rough around the edges, to say the least.”