Page 8 of Broken Instrument

“Ya think?”

The superintendent’s door opens again. The asshat pulls out a lawn chair and a book, making himself comfortable in the hall. When he catches us staring, he announces, “Take your time, Ms. Rutherford. I’ll wait here until I see the dog escorted out of the building with my own eyes.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Hadley seethes between her teeth.

“Chop, chop,” he calls back at her. “It’s late, and I’d like to get some sleep.”

Her cute button nose scrunches as she bites her tongue. Her fingers dig into my forearm, and she drags me into her apartment, slamming the door behind her.

Something massive bumps into the back of her legs, followed by a low growl that could make a grown man piss himself. I cover my crotch to keep the demon from neutering me and look down, hoping the animal will see I’m a good guy and not an intruder or something.

Using her curvy frame as a shield between the beast and me, Hadley lifts her hands and scolds, “Calm the hell down, Pix. He’s a friend. He’s not the asshole––”

My brows furrow as I take in the massive dog trying to squeeze between Hadley’s legs. “Pixie?”

Hadley freezes and looks back at me, her frustration dissipating into thin air, replaced with a prickling awareness which, under any other circumstance, I’d guess would send Pixie into a full-blown frenzy. Probably one that would wind up with my nuts being eaten. But thankfully, the dog knows me.

Still.

It doesn’t stop the tremor in Hadley’s voice as she takes a slow step back and accuses, “How do you know my brother’s dog?”

3

HADLEY

“Bud’s your brother?” the handsome stranger asks. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s surprised. But it’s not like I can call his presence a coincidence. Not when Bud’s been missing for who knows how long, and the guy in front of me decided to be my own personal savior seconds ago.

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and I cross my arms over my chest protectively. “How do you know my brother?”

He hesitates and squeezes the back of his neck, then squats down to pet Pixie, who took full advantage of my suspicion and finally squeezed past me to attack the stranger with kisses.

Kisses.

Apparently, a guard dog, she is not.

“Hey, Pix,” the stranger greets her. “How you doing, baby girl?”

Pixie licks his offered hand, nuzzling against him as if they’re best friends when she’s usually less than friendly with strangers.

So the question is…why isn’t she treating him like a stranger?

“How do you know my brother?” I demand once more, this time more forcefully.

Scratching behind Pixie’s floppy dark ears, he says, “We met through a mutual…friend. He even let me crash on his couch for a couple of months. Didn’t he, Pixie?” He moves his attention from her ears to under her drooly chin but keeps up with the baby talk. It shouldn’t be adorable but kind of…is. “Yes, he did. Yes, he did. Aren’t you the best girl?”

Pixie crowds him on the ground, her giant butt wiggling back and forth in a full-body tail wag of excitement. It eases a bit of my wariness. I mean…if she trusts him, he can’t be too bad, can he? You know, with her dog instincts and all.

I chew on the inside of my cheek but unfold my arms as I watch them interact for another few seconds.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

He looks up at me and pushes himself to his feet, offering his hand. “Fender. And you’re Hadley?”

“How do you know my name?”

Hooking his thumb over his shoulder toward Mortin’s apartment, he explains, “Your landlord wasn’t exactly discreet when he came to yell at you, Ms. Rutherford,” he says, mimicking Dickhead Mortin’s baritone voice. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

My lips pull into a thin line. “I haven’t thanked you yet. It’s not like I can actually let you walk out of here with my brother’s dog, but I’m not exactly sure I have a choice anymore since you confirmed I have a dog here.”

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