Page 63 of Worst in Show

“I bench two fifty.”

“I bet you do.” My face heats. I did not mean to say that out loud.

“Was that a compliment?” He flexes his arms, playfully illuminating them with his flashlight. “You like these?”

Thank God it’s dark out, because I really do, and I’m sure it shows.

Leo chuckles. “Help me get him up so I can get a good hold.”

Boris lets us manhandle him into Leo’s arms like a swooning lady, and then we start our trek back through the field with me in the lead. Behind me, Leo walks in silence, his breath coming in rhythmic huffs. I don’t care what he said, Boris is heavy. I’m not sure how I’ll be able to repay him for what he’s done tonight.

Back at the house, Diane gives Boris a bath and administers first aid. She assures me nothing is broken—a scratch on his foot and more adventure than he bargained for, that’s all. “He should be fine with some rest,” she says. “And I’d get a sturdier leash when you’re out here. Lots of wild animals to tempt an old tracker.”

Leo comes downstairs, having showered and changed. No more bare chest. Boo.

“Did you want to get cleaned up, too, before we head back?” he asks.

My jeans are ruined from kneeling in the ditch, and I’m sure I look a sight, but it’s late, and I can’t in good conscience borrow yet another outfit here. “I’ll sit on a towel in the car if I have to, but we should get going.”

He nods. “I’ll bring Boris out.”

For the second time tonight, he lifts the shaggy beast into his arms, blanket and all. I stare after him as he heads out the door.

“You okay?” Dawn asks sidling up to me. “You look a bit shell-shocked.”

Is that what I am? “Yeah, no, I’m… fine. He’s—” I nod in the direction Leo disappeared, but I can’t finish my sentence.

“He’s a good guy,” Dawn fills in with a smile. “I know. See you in a few days.”

Damn it. He is, isn’t he?

This is going to make not liking him so much harder than it already is.

The hay bales are outside my store when I get downstairs the following day. To be honest, I’m surprised Leo had it in him to touch them at all after yesterday, but they’ll look great next to my pumpkin display, so I have nothing but gratitude.

Canine King is still dark and made all the more so by its lack of a festive front step. Leo has clearly given up on our bet, and while I fully intend to claim my prize, I also feel a little bad. I tell myself the sympathy has more to do with the costumed kids being met by this sad, un-Halloweeny sight than with Leo, but even I know that’s not entirely true. I don’t want anyone to be left out, not even him. Before I can change my mind, I load a cart up with three pumpkins and set off across the street.

Jaz arrives as I’m unloading the first one. “What are you doing?” she asks.

“Decorating.” I sprinkle a bagful of cinnamon-scented pine cones around the pumpkins and stand back to admire my work.

“I don’t understand. Are they booby-trapped?”

“No.”

“Then what’s the catch?”

“No catch. He gave me hay bales, so I’m reciprocating.”

Jaz stares at me a moment. Then she taps the side of her nose with her finger. “Ah. You’re biding your time. Gotcha.”

I’m about to set her straight but decide against it. In a way, her perspective is correct. Nothing has changed. Leo is still here, and I still want Canine King gone. I’m just not sure how to explain that the once black-and-white situation suddenly is morphing into a kaleidoscope of complex colors.

“Anyway, I need to get back. Don’t tell him it was me.”

“He’ll know.” She calls after me. “You’re the only one around with a serious pumpkin problem.”

She’s right. He texts me shortly after I open.

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