Dixie recognized the sound of an excited dog. The joyous woof was deep and filled with the delirious excitement of now.
It’s not Dagger’s voice, thank God. He’d escaped from everything to the point of earning the nickname Houdini. Not Champagne, not Dervish. Hmm. Who, then?
Curious, she forfeited speed to look over her shoulder. She’d go back and pen up today’s escape artist if she had to but she really wanted one uninterrupted run. Time being what it was, it was hard to find the time to run on the beach, never mind when it was quiet and empty.
The beast approaching at around forty miles an hour—seemingly without any intention of stopping—was huge. He galloped along, tongue lolling out the side of his smiling mouth. Then another bark. The tenor convinced her he was too happy to be vicious. She stopped and turned. Happy or not, he was barreling toward her like a freight train.
“Hey, there, big guy.” Dixie stood, feet planted shoulder width apart, with her hands in front of her.
The dog kept coming. And barking.
“Slow down, now. Slow down.” She knew it was hopeless from the laughter lurking in the giant animal’s eyes. “Take it easy.” He was close enough now for her to see he was an Irish Wolfhound. A big, floppy, young one with enough energy to power a small city.
When he was about five strides from her, she stepped forward. It threw him off. He cut right, circled and came at her again. But slower this time. He approached and bunched to jump when she stepped into him forcing him to stay down and step back. He tipped his head as if to say, “huh?”
“What a good boy!” She reached out and let him smell her. At his acceptance she stroked his head then gave his ears a good rub. “Good boy. You’re a big one, aren’t you?” But still a puppy even at, she guessed, one hundred pounds.
He flopped onto his side and rolled to expose his belly. She laughed and knelt down to oblige the request for a belly-rub.
“What the hell did you do to my dog?”
The voice, almost as deep as the dog’s, came from behind her.
“What was he doing running loose?” she asked without looking up. She couldn’t have dogs running loose on the beach, climbing dunes or prancing along the winding, beachside road.
“Obviously, he got away from me.”
Still not looking at the annoyed man, she rolled her eyes. “Obviously.”
With a powerful belly-woof, the giant dog leaped to his feet and practically bowled her over to get to the man. “Oof,” she said. She ended on her butt looking up at the object of the dog’s affection.
The man—and my, my, what a man—had plenty to say as the dog danced around him then leaped up to put his huge paws on his shoulders.
“Get down. Down!” he yelled as he pushed the dog’s feet to one side.
Incensed, she got to her feet. “Careful! You could hurt him by pushing his legs like that.”
“Nothing could hurt this dog. I’m not convinced he is a dog. He’s a circus clown. He has the appetite of a billy goat, no brains and the-the heart of…” The huge dog lay down across the man’s feet and splayed his legs in the air. “The heart of man’s best friend.”
She bit her tongue and turned the laugh into a throat clearing. Not a mean person, just a frustrated one. She recognized the symptoms. “Maybe an obedience class would help.”
“He was thrown out his first day.”
This time she let the laugh out. “Maybe you need a better trainer.”
“I don’t need anything. He needs…something.”
Grinning now, she shook her head. “What’s his name?”
“Galli. Gallipoli, actually, but I can’t get my mouth around it when I’m mad at him.”
“Why’d you name him that then?”
“I didn’t.”
Since he didn’t seem to want to explain that, she snapped her fingers. The dog clambered to his feet. “Come, Galli.” The dog bunched to launch. Dixie stepped in again. Galli dropped his butt to the sand and lifted his paw to shake.
Dixie laughed and shook his paw. “He’s definitely trainable. How did you teach him to shake?”
“I didn’t.”
She gave him a moment to continue. He didn’t. “Is this your dog?”
“No. He’s my cousin’s dog.”
“Where is your cousin?”
“Iraq.”
Immediately contrite, Dixie sighed. “Sorry. He’s a soldier?”
“No, he’s an idiot with a big dog.”
“Uh…”
In a universal signal of I’ve-had-enough, the man sighed heavily and rubbed his hand over his face. “Sorry. I’m not in the best of moods.”
“I noticed.” Moody but intriguing.
“You see, my cousin grabbed a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to work overseas. And…” He looked directly at her. “And you’re not interested in any of this. Why don’t I just take my dog and go. Sorry about the attack.”
Dixie noted the leash in his hand with a half-inch wide collar hanging from it. The set up was more suited to a well-trained miniature poodle than a rambunctious, energetic puppy the size of a small pony.
“Thought he wasn’t your dog.”
She got the stare. The one men practice that tells you he doesn’t want you messing up his emotional outburst with logic. But she was on the dog’s side and could give the oh-so-attractively-frustrated man a tip that would help.
“First, you need a better leash and a different collar. The leash should be at least an inch in width, a strong, webbed material with a hand loop. And try a head collar. It’ll help keep him under control.” No response. “Gotta go.” She turned and jogged off intending to build her speed up again. Unfortunately, Galli thought it was the signal to chase. He chased.
“Galli!”
Dixie started to turn but didn’t anticipate the sheer ebullience of the dog. He leaped and planted his paws on her back. Losing her balance she fell on her side. Galli followed her down. Almost crushed by his weight, she rolled to push him off, right into the legs of his non-owner. Who shouted and grabbed to no avail. The dog slid between her legs then leaped to his feet. Galli’s human took his place. Right. Between. Her legs.
Long time since I had a man right where I want him.
Pressed into the sand by his weight, she could only marvel he was cradled between her thighs with his head nestled between her breasts. She’d always liked her breasts. Not too big, not too small. But nothing compared with having a head full of wavy brown hair resting between them.
“Oof.”
His exclamation vibrated against her flesh. She shivered.
“Um, could you get up, please?” she managed.
* * *
Brand lifted his head, turned it left then right. Nipples to the left of me, nipples to the right. He lifted his eyes to her face and felt his own face burn.
“Oh!” He pushed himself onto his elbows. “I’m sorry.” Okay, not so sorry. Due to the scenery. But I can resist looking again.
That was until the pretty lady took a deep breath and pressed her nipples into his chest. Force of nature, he looked down. Unfortunately, he smiled.
“Get,” she said shoving against his shoulders, “off!”
“Yes, yes.” Brand lifted up to his hands and knees. Sitting back on his heels he reached out to her. “Let me give you a hand.”
She groaned and rolled over, threatening his manly parts. He scrambled backward as she stood and dusted sand off her…everything. Quite a show it was too.
Getting to his feet, he brushed his own sand off. The psycho mutt of course was nosing along the edge of the water, fastidiously ignoring the consequences of his attack.
“Sorry Galli attacked you.”
She frowned at him. “He didn’t attack me, he was playing.”
“If that’s playing,” he muttered, “I’m a monkey’s uncle.
“Well, Uncle Monkey, I’ve got my run to finish. If you put that leash on Galli, I’ll get going.”
Embarrassed again, Brand gathered up Galli, got the leash and collar on then watched as the lovely lady headed off down the beach again before he could get her name.
“See what you did?”
Galli grinned up at him as if to say, “Yeah! Wasn’t it fun!”
Shaking his head, he turned the reluctant dog back toward his car. So much for the quick walk on the beach, a beer and his bed. Now he faced washing the dog before the beer and bed.
“You’re hell on a social life, you know that?” The tail wagging indicated Galli did, indeed, know that.
Still, Brand loaded the wet, sandy dog into the back of the doggy-smelling SUV and turned for home. The small beach house with several acres of beachfront property was the best home he’d had in a long time. New York City was fun. It was bright, alive, crazy and noisy. And hard on the nerves. Never mind the memory of lost women in his life.
Cheryl, the cheating optimist; Veronique, the sad-eyed pessimist and Paula, graphic artist and cocaine-user, had created a pall on the exciting big city life. He was ready for the small town life. Back to his roots, so to speak. Growing up on the east coast of Florida was more small town than not. Even if the town had 56,000 residents. He’d had a great childhood and wonderful parents who died in a boating accident when he’d been a raw twenty years old. He fled to New York to escape the memories of death and debt. Now he was making a home.
“You think I’ll find a home here, Galli?”
The dog woofed as they pulled into the dirt driveway of the beach house. He circled and whined as Brand shut off the car and got out. Galli bulleted out of the crate and the car almost knocking Brand to the ground again.
“Damn it, can’t you ever just walk?”
Galli circled him like the idiot dog he was. The terror-laced barking began the minute Brand picked up the hose. The water fight started soon after. Water flew, soap dripped and Brand ended up laughing hard enough to make his stomach hurt. He made the mistake of sitting down when the bath was over. Galli landed on top of him and lapped his face until Brand was as wet as he was. Still grinning, Brand managed to gain his feet and corral the dog in the laundry room. He figured the dog couldn’t do too much damage since he’d done about a hundred full body shakes outside. Brand knew the one pound dog food dish wouldn’t hold him long so he grabbed his beer and dropped onto the couch to catch his breath.
And the lovely beach lady took over thoughts of wet dog without a whimper.
The red hair and blue eyes were complimented by fair skin and an easy smile. Breasts were pretty much perfect, as were the long legs she put to good use on the beach.
“Maybe I’ll take up jogging.” It only took a moment to decide that was too obvious. Besides, what would he do with all his equipment? The weight machine and weights were unpacked but not set up for use. He’d already used the jump rope and free weights since they were set up as soon as they were unpacked. Easy. No, jogging wasn’t something he wanted to take up anyway.
The whining started the second Brand figured Galli gulped the last of the dog food. He let his head drop back on the couch. “Geez. Can’t you let up for a minute?”
The whining increased in volume and pitch. He gave up and opened the laundry room door. Galli pranced out, pleased with his ability to open doors without hands. Again.
Brand headed for the bathroom and his shower knowing Galli wouldn’t go near the bathroom as long as the water was running. The dog slunk away as Brand twisted the water open.
“Huh. Maybe I’ll live in the shower until Tim comes back to get you.”
But there was no bitterness in his heart when he went into his bedroom to find the great oaf curled up on his dog bed with his head buried in Tim’s blanket.
“He’ll be back, buddy,” Brand told the dog as he slid into his cool, clean sheets. “Nothing is going to keep him away longer than necessary.”
Galli whined and squiggled around before sighing heavily and falling asleep.
Brand wasn’t so lucky. He faced a night of tossing and turning and wondering if the lovely beach lady tasted as good as she looked.