Hanging On (Jessica Brodie Diaries #2)(33)

“Oh, well dogs are bred for certain things. Labs are bread to retrieve ducks. Blue Healers to herd cattle. Doberman Pinchers are for protection, mostly. They were thought to’ve been bred originally by a tax collector in Germany for protection and companionship. So you always have to be careful with a dog that is bread to protect. That is why I let the dogs sniff you earlier. You being with me means your scent is a friend. To them, you are family. They will protect you like their pack.

“They’re majestic, though.” William started to get that faraway look he got when he was talking about the intellectual side of his pursuits. “If you get past the image they have in movies, they are extremely graceful dogs with an incredible overall agility. They love to wrestle, they fetch, they swim, they like to chew toys and carry stuffed animals around; they can be as peaceful and playful as a lab to their family, but when you are threatened they have more bite than bark.”

“But...isn’t that dangerous?” I asked, loving to be the devil’s advocate when he got going on his projects. I was pleased to talk about something that didn’t matter. Focus on something trivial. William was, too.

“It is definitely dangerous to robbers or criminals, and people that don’t treat them and train them properly. But if you teach the dog to be more social and less aggressive when they are young, then they remain only dangerous to those breaking into your house, or attacking you.

“My dogs have been trained to guard the ranch. We have a lot of expensive animals and equipment on this property; a Doberman can cover a lot of ground. Six Doberman, which is how many I have, can cover everything on the ranch of importance, and make it their priority. They will attack, but they will not kill unless one of my family’s lives are in danger. I was taught by a specialized trainer, working with the dogs, on how to control them, commands to initiate or stop—basically how to properly control them and make sure I was responsible enough for that kind of training for a protective dog. It was intensive. It wasn’t undergone lightly.”

“They can kill people?”

“All dogs can kill people. Mine are trained like a military dog. Which these dogs were used for in World War Two. You’ll see, though. They will be your best buddy in the world. They just want to hang out with their master and do whatever we do. They are really elegant dogs.”

We sat in silence for a while. Then, because I worried, in a small voice I asked, “William?”

“Yeah?”

“Will Dusty get out again? Do I have to worry about him or his friends coming after me again?” Tears filled my eyes at the thought.

William reflexively tightened his grip on me. “Scotty will see to it that he or his friends don’t get bail. I am not sure about anyone else, though. They’ll probably question Dusty about that probability, but I don’t know, Jess.” He sounded so sad and forlorn. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Okay? I won’t let it.”

I nodded mutely, the tears overflowing my eyes. I just leant my head on his shoulder and let the tears come. We sat that way long enough for our hands and toes to prune, our drinks largely untouched. We listened to the sounds of the night on a farm, which was amazingly peaceful; horses off in the distance whinny, cows moo, and an overall quiet settle on the night. It calmed my mind and let my thoughts get drowsy.

When I started to fall asleep I felt William put our drinks away, stand, and take me in his arms. I let him lift me out, climb out himself, and lift me again to carry me to the bedroom. It would have been sweet and romantic any other time, but now it seemed like I was folded in my blanket once again. I breathed deeply and closed my eyes, letting him take me where he may.

We were both na**d as we went through the house, dripping on the floor. I could hear a dog padding after us, but paid no attention as we stopped in the center of the room. William set me down gently and dried me off, no concern for himself. Next he got a bottle of lotion off the dresser.

“Did you steal that from my house?” I asked in a daze, seeing the familiar label.

“I wanted your things stocked here so you wouldn’t run,” he said, trying for light and playful, and unable. The same held true for the smile I conjured.

My eyes started to overflow with his tenderness. Also with the fact that he was thoughtful enough to get all my hair and body products, and bring them here so I would be more comfortable. He wanted me around often enough to make it seem more like home.

My chest constricting, I reached up to kiss him, needing his comfort. His body. But he backed off quickly. He wasn’t ready. He was trying to stay strong for me, to be the man society said he should be, but he needed his own safety blanket. He needed a way to assure himself that he could take care of me when there were so many ways to make that impossible. So many things that could go wrong. So many unknowns. I was not sure how these little gestures of brushing my hair, carrying me through the house, putting on lotion would help, but somehow they were, so I let him do whatever he needed.

He put lotion on my body, not going over my woman parts in any way differently than my arms. When he was satisfied I was smooth, he kissed the top of my head and asked that I wait there for him, he wasn’t going far. The dog, the largest in the pack, moved to follow its master, and was commanded to stay with me. Without one second of indecision, the dog padded back over, next to my legs, and sat down.

William came back carrying a large dog blanket. He still had not a stitch on him and I could see the play of his muscles under his tanned skin, his powerful body bending and twisting as he put the dog bed on the floor on my side of the room.