The Obsession(45)

“Looks like you’re doing it.”

A man in gray coveralls and a gray cap with the garage’s logo wandered out and plugged coins into the soda machine along the wall. “That Chevy’s looking good as new, boss. Better.”

“Will it be ready by four?”

“She’ll be ready.”

“I’ll tell Syl.”

The dog tugged on the leash, and as Naomi had loosened her grip, he slipped free to wag his way to the new guy.

“Hey, boy. Your dog’s got a sweet face, ma’am.”

“He’s not mine. He’s not mine,” she said almost desperately to Xander, who only shrugged.

“Want another dog, Pete?”

“You know I would, but Carol would skin me. Nice dog,” he added, then walked off while the dog wandered around sniffing at everything.

“How’d he sleep?”

“What? The dog? Fine. I woke up at five because he was standing by the bed staring at me—and scared the crap out of me.”

“So he’s housebroken.”

“I guess. So far anyway, but—”

“You live a ways from town,” Xander continued. “A dog’s good security.”

“I’m having an alarm system installed.”

“A dog’s good company,” he shot back.

“I like solitude.”

“You’re a hard sell, Naomi.”

The dog walked back, tail wagging, with a rag hanging out of his mouth and happy eyes as he brought it to Naomi.

“He loves you.”

“Because he brought me a filthy rag he found on the floor.”

“Yeah. You’ll get used to it. Meantime, I’ll get you half that bill, and I’ll keep asking around if anyone’s missing him or interested in taking him.”

She dug into her purse again and came out with the flyer she’d printed. “Put this up.”

Xander studied it. “Nice shot of him.”

“I have to go get some work done. I haven’t done anything but dog all morning.”

“You could ask me to dinner.”

“Why would I?”

“Then you’d have done something else, and I’ll give him his evening meds. You said you can cook.”

She gave him a long, cool look. “You’re not after a meal.”

“Man’s gotta eat.”

“I don’t have dishes, or chairs, or a table. I’m not going to sleep with you, and I am not keeping this dog.” Annoyed with him, with herself, she snatched the leash and began to pull the dog out of the bay.

“You like to gamble, Naomi?”

She looked over her shoulder, still dragging the dog. “No.”

“Too bad, because I’d bet you every bit you just said’s going to change.”

The hell it would, she told herself.

She didn’t realize until she got home that the dog still had the disgusting rag. When she tried to get it from him, he decided she wanted to play tug. In the end, she gave up and sat on the top step of her front porch, the dog with the disgusting rag beside her. And the noise of saws and hammers behind.

“What have I done? Why didn’t I just pitch a tent in the woods? Why do I have a big house full of all these people? Why do I have a dog I have to medicate?”

Adoringly, he dropped the wet, greasy rag in her lap.

“Perfect. Just perfect.”

—

He went with her when she climbed down the steep, jumbled path to the shoreline. She’d been certain the dog would stay, hang out with the crew, but he’d insisted on going out when she did. Next time, she’d sneak out.

Still, she found he didn’t get in the way as she found her shots. Even the one of the dark purple starfish shining in a tidal pool. In fact, after a brief exploration, the dog seemed content to doze in the sun as long as she stayed in sight.

Just as he seemed content to curl up nearby when she sat at her desk working, or worked in her mat room.

If she went downstairs, the dog followed. If she went up, he climbed right up after.

When the house was quiet again, she wondered if dogs could have abandonment issues.

He didn’t like the ear drops, and that was a battle—but she won. She knew from Kong the best way to get meds into a dog, and disguised the pills in rolled slices of cheese.

When she sat out on the deck eating her dinner of a grilled cheese sandwich, he ate his—and didn’t bolt it down as if starved this time.

And when she got into bed with her laptop to spend the last hour of her day looking for faucets and showerheads, the dog curled into his bed as if he’d done so all his life.

At five in the morning she woke with a start, the dog’s eyes gleaming at her, his doggy breath in her face.

Xander sent his half of the vet bill with Kevin, along with the message that he’d split the follow-up, too.

Two days later, he showed up himself with another bag of dog food, another rawhide bone, and the biggest box of Milk-Bones she’d ever seen.

She wondered if he’d timed it to arrive minutes after the crew left, or if it was just coincidence. But it made the dog happy, and he spent some time roughhousing with him.

“He’s getting some energy back.” Xander winged a tennis ball so the dog could chase it like it was gold.