Cason rolled up the maple-lined driveway of the Hutchinson’s house. Haley, as she had told him to call her. Maybe he should have phoned or texted before pulling in, but he hoped to just sneak in, spend some time with Big T, and leave. Plus, he didn’t need the stress she brought to the big dog.

Big T was already standing on the edge of the porch like some gothic lion guarding the estate of a James Bond villain. Earlier in the day, he had flown off the porch like a missile, making it very clear Cason was not welcome. Was there a chance the dog was inconsistent with his guard duties? Or was he getting used to Cason already? If Cason knew dogs as well as he thought he did, it was the latter.

Cason parked and climbed casually out of his pickup. Big T took a few steps off the porch, staring Cason down, but Cason refused to meet his glare, looking anywhere but at the dog. Out of the corner of his eye, Cason saw Big T visually back down and even sit down to watch. Cason cut across the yard at an angle that would take him about six feet away from the dog.

“How was the rest of your day?” Cason still didn’t look at him, just pulled short of the low stucco wall that ran along the house’s walkway and sat on it. “You’ll be glad to know I only needed four stitches. And oral antibiotics. So no IVs, no hospital stay.”

Cason still watched the dog out of the corner of his eye, in between his glances around the rest of the yard. As far as Big T was concerned, he had nothing to do with Cason coming back today. He must’ve bought the act because after shooting over a grumpy look, he clumped loudly onto the ground, grunting just in case Cason hadn’t picked up on his disgust with the situation. Yet with the multi-acre yard, the ferocious guard dog had chosen a spot five feet away. On top of that, he was facing out into the yard and lying totally flat instead of the tense, warning posture he could have taken.

“I knew it, T. Can I call you T?” Cason stretched his legs out and crossed them. “We’re gonna be good friends.”

For a while, neither of them spoke. From time to time, T’s cheeks would puff out loudly when he let out an especially big breath. Big animals like T amazed Cason. As powerful as big cats, bears, and wolves, but at tamable and loving as a poodle.

“How old are you, T? About three, right?” He looked slowly in the dog’s direction, examining his joints, and not seeing anything like the lumps and wounds Fiyero had on his legs. Some big dogs got fluid-filled sacs on their joints called hygromas from pounding their joints as they lay down over and over. That probably had something to do with one or two of Fiyero’s lesions.

What to do about Fiyero? Fiyero and Elfie, since both of them were responsible for the wounds that wouldn’t heal. He needed to get more info from Mrs. Curtis about the vet visits and what tests had been done. It could be anything from cancer to food allergies to fungal infections to purely psychological OCD-type issues. It’d been a long time since he’d come across a pooch problem so tricky.

“I’ll give Avvie a call when I leave. She’s got some experience with repetitive behaviors.”

T turned his head toward Cason, who realized he’d been looking at T for a while and talking straight to him. The look on his face said it all: Cason just better keep his distance and keep to himself.

The front door latch clicked open and T was on his feet and facing it before Cason could even turn his head to look at it.

“Cason?” said Haley. “I had no idea you were here! Big T didn’t even bark and he usually goes crazy when anyone but me or my husband drives up.” She walked over to Big T.

“He’s good at his job.”

As Haley reached out a hand to rest it on T’s head, Cason noticed three things: a small grimace, a held breath, and a ducked head. It wasn’t fear. Fear in dogs usually manifested defensively or submissively. This was withdrawal. She only petted him for a second, and his relief was visible when she took a step away.

“Then why didn’t he bark at you?” asked Haley. “Should I be worried that he’s losing his edge?”

“Not at all. Impressed with his intelligence, I’d say. He’s already categorized me as someone who is allowed here, and so he’s expected to tolerate me.”

Haley came around the corner of the low wall and sat next to Cason. She smelled all flowery and when she sat Cason couldn’t help but notice that the slit in her skirt went practically all the way to her waist. Her makeup looked perfect and fresh as well. Maybe she was getting ready to go out. Nobody sat around the house looking like that, did they?

Any warm-blooded man would be attracted to Haley, and on a physical level Cason was as well. Not that he indulged the allure or anything. When Cason was ready to fall in love again, it would not be with a woman who seduced any man who came by. That trait of Haley’s far outweighed her physical hotness.

With Haley, it was obvious, but how could he ever know if he could trust a woman? They weren’t all true and honest like dogs were. A week before he was supposed to marry Leah he would have sworn on his life that she was faithful. Then six days before the wedding, she’d been caught making out with an old boyfriend. Cason had been as clueless as a dog looking at a calculus worksheet.

It turned out Leah couldn’t resist bad boys. Luckily Cason had found out in time. If his sister, Carly, wasn’t a bartender at that particular bar, it wouldn’t have come to light until it was too late.

Leah said it was a last minute fling, a personal bachelorette party, but Carly was relentless. Using her contacts with some other bartenders at nearby bars she tracked down two guys who said they’d been intimate with her within the month before she got caught.

Cason had thought she’d been working late. Maybe it was just him who lacked any skill at reading women, but out of everything he’d lost with her, his ability to trust people had suffered the most. At least Haley was a woman who was easy to read.

Clearing his throat, Cason scooted to an arm’s-length distance. “Maybe a little space. See how T can’t relax when I’m so close to you? He’s not growling or snapping but look at how his hackles are up just a little bit.”

Happy with the distance between the humans, T turned to face the same direction they were, and sat down. And his hackles returned to normal.

“You’re amazing,” said Haley. “It’s like you’re in his head. Oh, how’s your arm? Does it hurt so bad?” She reached out and took his hand.

“Not at all,” said Cason gently pulling his arm back and nodding toward T. His big buddy would give him a great excuse to keep a safe distance. He turned his arm over to show a Band-Aid. “A few stitches, that’s it.”

“I’m so sorry he did that,” said Haley. “We’ll pay the doctor bill, of course.”

“Not necessary. It was my stupid mistake that caused it. And honestly the bill for our services will be big enough.”

Haley waved a hand dismissively. “Money is no object.”

Cason bit his cheek so he didn’t start laughing. In the years he’d been working with the wealthy and super-wealthy, he’d never actually heard someone say those words. Still, he was baffled at the connection of this superficial woman and her husband to this dog who was realistically a major threat to their only child. He felt like if he could figure it out rather than ask, it would be a good clue.

She went on. “I’m just concerned with your safety. I can’t believe you’re brave enough to just walk right up here and sit by him. There are only three people in the world who he likes—me, my husband, and my father who has known him his whole life.”

“I actually didn’t sit by him,” said Cason. “I was minding my own business totally ignoring him, and he just came and plopped down near me. He gave me boundaries from the first second we met. I’ll be safe if I respect them.”

“Why does he act like he wants to kill anyone else who comes? Even my sister, who’s been here a hundred times, makes me put him away before she’ll get out of her car.”

That didn’t come as a surprise. “I bet most people who come here either try too hard to get into his space or stay very far out of it. I just came here because I’m allowed to and I wanted to, and I didn’t push him or make him suspicious of me by being terrified.”

“But we can’t teach Baby Jane about boundaries. So what good is it if you can just keep your distance?”

“Have you ever known someone with autism? Any close friends or someone you’ve spent a lot of time with?”

For an uncomfortable amount of time, Haley stared at Cason. Not like a cougar looking for a meal, as she had earlier, but as if she was trying to figure him out.

“Why would you ask me that?”

“I take that as a yes,” said Cason.

“My little brother.”

That was it. The clue. Cason was almost positive. “Does your brother make friends easily?”

“Heavens no. I mean every once in a while he’ll latch on to someone he decides to be friends with but with most people it takes like eight years before he’s happy to see them.”

Cason stood and faced Haley, keeping his eyes on hers, and not anywhere below that level.

“What’s your brother’s name?”

“Kyle.”

“You’ve known Kyle for what, twenty years? I’ve known Big T for eight hours. I’m pretty happy with the baby steps so far. Once I see what it takes for him to fully accept me, we can implement the same technique with Baby Jane.”

“Oh, so you’re like, using yourself as bait or something.”

Not really. “More like using my experience and patience—two things Baby Jane doesn’t have—to figure out the puzzle.”

“They say that a dog who tastes blood will never be the same? He’ll always be a hunter after that?”

“That’s a really good question,” said Cason, turning his back on T. “Did you see how he lashed out at me, then immediately backed off? He wasn’t going for the kill, and he definitely didn’t get any pleasure from it. Has he ever caught a cat or a squirrel here in the yard?”

“Squirrel,” said Haley. “He played with it like it was a ragdoll until my husband got home and took it away from him.”

“Was it anything like when he bit me today?”

“Not at all. He was all ferocious and vicious with that squirrel, but earlier today he backed down so quick.”

“He’s probably more reluctant to bite now, than he was yesterday morning.” Cason turned his back on Haley and sat on the grass. “Just keep acting natural. I’m trying something else with Big T. What was his puppyhood like? Not very many people around is my guess.”

“No, that’s right. The owners of the mother never held them or cuddled him. I think I might have been the first person who ever picked him up.”

“And he probably didn’t like it, did he?” Cason gave T a quick side-eye. He’d purposefully sat down about ten feet away from where T was sitting.

“You’re right!” said Haley. “He arched his back and stiffened up so fast he almost fell right out of my hands.”

“Does he have phobias?”

Big T stood up and looked around for a second then stretched his back.

“Like clowns or Friday the 13th?”

“Like the dark?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Garden hoses?”

“Yes! He will hide and make me chain him out if I want to give him a bath.”

Big T came to that five-foot range and just stood there, watching Cason closely. His hackles were down and he was calm, but that was definitely the stink eye he was giving.

“What else?”

“Well he hates car rides.”

“Hats?”

“Yes again! I swear, Cason, how are you doing this?”

Cason was almost positive he was on the right track and that this family would eventually get along even better than most dog families. “What about chasing his tail? I wouldn’t expect it from a giant like him, but does he do anything unusual with his tail?”

“Okay, did my husband put you up to this? Did he tell you these things?”

Cason shook his head without looking back. “I got like two sentences from the Canis Amare scheduler and that’s it.”

“That dog will stare at his tail for an hour straight sometimes.”

With a loud exhalation, as if making a statement to Cason that he wasn’t happy about their proximity, but he would accept it, Big T plopped down on his belly. Right in the five-foot range.

“You knew he would do that, didn’t you?” asked Haley, the shock obvious in her voice.

“I suspected,” said Cason. “I think I know what’s going on with T. I’m not a vet or a dog psychologist, but I’m almost positive they would use the term canine dysfunction behavior.”

After a brief pause, Haley asked, “Is it fatal?”

Cason suppressed a chuckle. “Not at all. It’s just a complicated way to say dog autism.”

Cason looked over his shoulder and saw Haley’s face go completely slack for just a second. Then her eyes went wide and her mouth opened as she tried to make words. “Shut your mouth,” she finally muttered. “Are you serious with me right now?” She stood from her chair and came around to kneel in front of T.

“I’m 99-percent sure.”

Haley reached her hands out again but this time she seemed to notice the grimace, the breathing pause. She didn’t touch him.

“He doesn’t really like to be touched on the head, does he?” asked Cason.

“No, he doesn’t but I just can never help myself. He’s so soft and his neck skin is just so mushy.”

While it was clear by the way her fingers twitched in front of T’s face that she longed to lose her hands in his cheeks, Haley held short. Just like a light switch flipping on, she understood her dog.

“What does he like?” asked Cason. “Have you found any hand signals that seem to soothe him, or maybe touching his tail? Or some other spot?”

“Oh my heavens, yes. Two spots. Watch this.” Haley put her small hands over T’s huge paws, and started stroking them like a cat on a scratching post. One at a time, back and forth.

T’s eyes went back in his head and a slow, pleasurable breath escaped, long and slow.

Haley was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Big T loves his footie rubs.”

As stiff as a board, and with an extended grunt of ecstasy, T flopped over onto his side, then almost all the way to his back.

“Yes, Big T loves his belly, too.” Haley reached toward the center of his belly, and diverted just a couple inches. In baby talk she said, “He loves his special belly scratchy spot.”

As soon as she began rubbing the spot on his belly, T moaned in delight and one of his legs started kicking. For half a minute she scratched away like a mother trying to relieve an itch in the unreachable spot on her child’s back, then she looked over her shoulder at Cason.

Tears were rolling down her face. And Cason mentally kicked himself in the butt. That’s what he got for judging someone as shallow before even knowing them. This woman had a deep connection to a dog who would have been put down in many families, and she hadn’t even known why until five minutes ago. Of course, Cason’s poor judgment shouldn’t surprise him, given his history of knowing a woman’s true heart.

However, misjudging a person as super-shallow wasn’t something you could apologize for without slamming them in the first place, so he kept his mouth shut.

“Do you want to come over and scratch him?” asked Haley. “Maybe you can win him over by doing his favorite.”

“Boundaries,” said Cason. He lived for these breakthrough moments, and watching T’s leg kicking a hundred miles an hour was the greatest thing he’d seen in a long time.

But the real job there still wasn’t done.