Page 7 of Knot Yours

Still, because the woman lives here, and I’m not going away any time soon, I think it’s best if I diffuse the situation. “She won’t bite unless I tell her to.”

My reassurance doesn’t help. The exotic beauty doesn’t relax. She curls into herself, pressing farther back into her chair. The disappointment stings despite what I told myself. Looking down at Piper, I issue the stay command. “Zustan.”

I step onto the deck and unlock the B unit door so the woman will know I belong here. Or you could have just gone through the back gate. The woman hasn’t taken her eyes off Piper, who hasn’t moved a fraction of an inch. “Welcome to the neighborhood,” I offer.

Her eyes flicker and finally center on me again. “Thanks. I… I’m Marisol. Marisol Borrero.”

Marisol’s accent is magical, her voice hypnotizing. “Austin Madden,” I say in return.

I reach out my hand, accepting her slender fingers when she offers. So soft. An old Souix word comes to mind as I study Marisol. Olowa. It means light. It's fitting since I can picture Marisol on an island in the sun.

I hold onto her hand longer than I should. I don’t know what surprises me more, that Marisol hasn’t pulled away or that I haven’t gone inside already.

Marisol’s focus returns to Piper, and I can’t pull my gaze away from the woman’s dark eyes. To Piper’s credit, she remains still as a statue. She hasn’t alerted to Marisol. If she didn’t like the newcomer, I’d know by now. I’ve learned the hard way to trust the Mali’s judgment. That dog reads people a fuck ton better than any human.

Letting Piper into the back would probably make Marisol more comfortable, but I don’t move. Something inside tells me this moment is important. I finally let go of Marisol’s hand and gesture to the well-trained dog. “She won’t come any closer. I promise.”

My comment draws Marisol’s gaze back to me, embarrassment clouding her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m nervous around big dogs.”

“Don’t apologize for your sense of self-preservation. I’m guessing something happened to you to make you afraid. Can I ask what it was?”

Those mystical eyes turn toward me, and the pull of Marisol’s stare is almost too much to fight. I have to grasp the deck railing to remain where I am. “When I was a girl, my father ran dogs at night for security. Dobermans. One night, when I was eleven and couldn’t sleep, I went outside to read by the pool. It never occurred to me to be afraid of my father’s dogs. No one warned me. The dogs spotted me shortly after I sat down with my book. They rushed me, and I ran, getting chased into a corner. The three dogs snapped and snarled until one of my father’s security team found me and called them off.”

Marisol shudders at the memory, giving away how much power fear has over her. I can’t figure out who would have guard dogs that couldn’t tell family from foe. Curiosity insists I ask, but that would be too intrusive. Instead, I stick with safer information. “Where was home?”

Marisol’s brow pinches as if she regrets sharing such a personal story. “Puerto Rico.”

Her distress puzzles me, but I let it go and nod. “A beautiful place.”

I’ve never been there, but all the islands in the Caribbean share a common splendor. Thinking of her home brings back Marisol’s devastating smile. “It is.”

Much more at ease now, Marisol shifts her gaze back to Piper. “She’s really obedient.”

“Piper is military trained. She can be deadly but is more disciplined and reliable than any human walking this earth.”

“Piper,” she repeats in her musical voice. “That’s a beautiful name. Are you in the military?”

“I was. I’m retired.”

At hearing this, Marisol scans the length of my body again, pausing on my bare chest. Her eyes heat in obvious desire, and I sit in the empty seat opposite her to hide my body’s response. “Piper can detect explosives and drugs and is trained for search and rescue. She will only attack if I command or if her charge is threatened.”

Marisol turns inquisitive at the odd term. “Charge?”

“Someone I’ve entrusted to her safekeeping.”

Marisol

Austin’s words, spoken with such conviction, bring my eyes back to the dog waiting so patiently on the sidewalk. My neighbor stands and joins the intimidating but majestic pup, speaking in a foreign language to her.

Piper rises to her hind legs and dances, making me laugh. I push out of my chair and lean against the deck railing to watch. After a minute of parlor tricks, the pair demonstrate a series of maneuvers where Piper keeps her front hips perfectly aligned between Austin’s powerful thighs as he moves forward, backward, and in a series of tight turns.

As a finale, he takes a few steps away from Piper and whistles a short burst before throwing a purple ball into the air. Austin ducks suddenly, and Piper launches. She gets a running start, springboards off his back, and grabs the ball out of the sky, ten feet in the air.

I applaud when she lands and returns to sit next to Austin’s feet. Austin bows, and Piper does the same. She’s not so scary after all. Swallowing my fear, I slowly descend the steps barefoot and walk toward the pair. Piper remains still, and when I’m just a few feet away, Austin murmurs, “Piper, prítel.”

“What did you tell her?” I ask him.

“I told her you’re a friend.”

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