Chapter Sixteen
Ashlyn
Ashlyn pulled the band from her hair and lifted a piece to sniff. Gross, it smelled like greasy meat. Sighing she scraped at the flaking ketchup stain on her pants. There was no denying that her job sucked. Big time. Long hours, obnoxious customers, slightly creepy boss . . . At some point she was going to have to get her shit together and figure out what came next and it was becoming abundantly clear that that time was fast approaching.
“The things I do for you.” Ashlyn patted the steering wheel and reached for the keys. She had to jiggle them to get them free of the ignition, but it was just one of the many quirks that gave Harrison personality. He was special and no one could tell her otherwise.
Wrapping her coat more tightly around herself, Ashlyn hustled toward the house. The sun was shining, but the temperature had taken yet another dip. It was about time Mother Nature put her foot down and told Old Man Winter to get the hell over it. He’d had his turn. It was supposed to be spring.
She hadn’t even made it to the front steps when the door opened and an enormous, hairy beast came loping towards her. Terror stuck in her throat, eliminating her ability to scream, so she did the only rational thing she could. She ducked and covered, bracing herself for impact.
She waited one breath. Then another. Nothing happened. No bone-jarring collision. No tearing of flesh from bone. No growling, snarling, or howling. Just the booming sound of roaring laughter.
Daring a peek between her elbows, Ashlyn spotted the four-legged fiend sitting a foot away, oversized tail thumping on the frozen ground like a club.
“What.” Her heart hammered away inside her chest as she slowly lowered her arms. “The hell.” Still in a crouch, she scooted away from the animal before standing. “Is that?”
“C’mon, Ash.” Mason leaned against the column at the top of the stairs, arms folded across his chest, not even trying to conceal his grin. “I know it’s been a few years since you’ve seen the inside of a classroom, but most people learn ‘Dog’ in kindergarten.”
“Mason, I swear to god—”
“It’s a German Shepard.” Taking the stairs two at a time, he strode across the yard toward them. “And he’s not going to hurt you.”
She eyed the dog who had laid down and was pawing at a clump of grass while he sniffed the air. “Care to explain what it’s doing in my yard?”
Mason bent over to scrub the dogs head, making its ears flop around. Dark eyes lifted and she could have sworn the thing actually smiled, but all Ashlyn saw were the razor sharp fangs it had the nerve to call teeth. “He needed a home.”
“Please. For your sake.” And the sake of keeping her free from prison. “Do not tell me this is his home.”
“Okay, I won’t tell you. But you’re smart enough. I’m sure you’ll figure it out in three or four days.”
Fresh out of appropriate wordage, Ashlyn gaped at Mason.
His lips didn’t move, but the crease in his cheek told her he was fighting back a smile. “Don’t tell me you’re not a dog person.”
“Look around my house, Mas. I’m not a plant person. Plastic lifeforms wither and die in my care.” Being responsible for keeping herself alive was more than enough.
“Well, it’s a good thing Fred will be in my care then.”
“Fred?” She stared him dead in the eye. “You named it Fred?”
“Him. I named him Fred.” The attention grubbing mongrel whined and it was clear that not even he appreciated Mason’s choice. “Like Fred Flintstone?”
“Fred Flint—?” She shook her head. “You’ve got problems.”
“What do you think we should call him?”
“Homeless.” The cold was getting under her skin. She turned to move into the house, but Mason blocked her path.
“Ash, look at him.”
The animal watched her with two big, black eyes . . . which may have been more chocolate brown than black. And his ears drooped on either side of his head making him look sad and pathetic . . . and maybe the tiniest bit cute.
“So I can keep him?”
Ashlyn groaned. He was completely impossible. “Mason, I really don’t think—”
He held up a single finger silencing her. “There was nothing in the rental agreement I signed that said I couldn’t have pets. So technically—”
“What rental agreement? You didn’t sign any . . .” Oh. Shit. No rental agreement meant no rules. Maybe she hadn’t thought this through entirely.
“Come here.” Sobering, Mason took her hand.
He had to give her a little tug to get her to move closer, but when she stumbled toward the giant beast he didn’t jump up and try to eat her face. In fact, he didn’t move a muscle. Almost as though he sensed her apprehension.
“I’ve never been around dogs,” Ashlyn confessed. “And he’s kind of a big one. Couldn’t you start with like a Chihuahua or something?”
One of Mason’s brows lifted. “Do I look like a Chihuahua guy to you?”
Sweat coated her palms as Mason slowly moved her hand toward the animal. Close, closer, too close, way too close. At the last moment she ripped her hand away and took a step back. The dog’s head cocked sideways and he peered up at her.
“It’s safe.” Mason held up his hands in surrender to show he wouldn’t try and force her again. “He’s trained.”
“Trained how?” She kept both eyes glued to the dog—which she refused to think of as Fred.
“I didn’t just pick him up at the local shelter. He’s a guard dog, Ash.”
“A guard—” She struggled to split her attention between the dog and Mason. “What?”
“He’s trained to protect his people. To keep them safe.” Mason laid his hand on the dog’s head softly stroking his fur. “We have to show him that you’re one of his people.”
“I don’t want to be one of his people.”
“You will if someone shows up on your front porch again,” Mason argued.
He had a point. All night, every night she’d jumped at every little noise since the spray paint incident and now, after the whole letter delivery in the middle of the day . . . “He can stop that?”
“Yeah. That’s his job. It’s what he’s trained for.” Mason nodded as Ashlyn took a step closer. “You think he’s scary? You’re his friend. Imagine being the person threatening his friend.”
That . . . sounded like a very bad person to be. “Oh.”
Squatting on the balls of her feet in case she needed to make a quick retreat, Ashlyn reached out and brushed her hand over the wiry hairs in the middle of his back far away from the Jaws of Death.
Mason stood and offered her a hand up. With a gentle firm grip he led her across the yard towards the porch. When the dog started to follow, Mason simply told him to stay. And he stayed. No chain, no leash, he just did what he was told. Huh. He listened better than Mason.
“Look, I get that it’s a big decision and I probably should have talked to you first, but I knew what you’d say.” Mason sighed. “I can’t be here all the time, Ash. I have classes at night. Our work schedules don’t always match up. I don’t like the idea of you being here alone. Especially after dark.” He shrugged. “I worry about you.”
He worried about her? Well, crap. He had to go and get all sweet about it. “I don’t know the first thing about dogs.”
“They’re pretty simple. You feed ‘em, you walk ‘em, you occasionally throw ‘em a ball . . . happy dog.”
That didn’t sound too complicated. And there was a dog park a few blocks over. But one imperative matter still needed to be addressed. “We are not calling him Fred.”