Page 19 of The Bourbon Bride

“What’s wrong?” He pulls the Mercedes up along the front of the house and shuts off the engine.

“Nothing’s wrong, exactly. It’s not what I was expecting, I guess.” I look up as I step out of the car. The house is three stories in one section and two in the rest and is very wide with sharp angles everywhere.

“Which was?”

He holds his hand out to me and I take it with a bit of hesitation. We’re about to walk into his house, in Atlanta, hours away from Savannah where my parents expect me to be. I feel far removed by both time and space.

“An estate, I think. I’m not really sure what to expect from you. I’m used to the Antebellum and Victorian architecture in Savannah, and your apartment there was in a historic building, so I guess I assumed your house would be some classic stone mansion. Maybe a few gargoyles and definitely split into wings so you would have to tell me to avoid the west wing. Wow, I just up and ran away, didn’t I?”

He chuckles at my non-sequitur. “You’re something else.”

He opens the front door for me, but before I can get a look at the interior, a huge black dog rounds a corner and comes to a skittering halt that blocks our way in. I do what any stranger in a dog’s face does and freeze. The dog is muscular and thickly built with ears that are cut to stand up straight from its blocky head and smart whiskey-colored eyes that are focused on me with an intensity that would have anyone peeing their pants. I tighten my bladder to avoid that fate and the humiliation that would come with it. I swallow with an audible gulp.

“Are you a good boy?” I ask the dog in a soft voice.

He whines and paws at the ground.

“You are a good boy!” I say in my most pathetically indulgent baby voice, because when you have a giant dog in front of you, you better make friends with it, fast. The dog pants and shimmies a few steps back and forth as his butt wiggles in excitement.

“Good boy, Cerb. Sit,” Hayes commands.

The dog obeys instantly, sitting back on his thick haunches, and looking at Hayes for his next instruction.

“He likes you.”

“What dog wouldn’t like me? He probably knows I’m a sucker and I’ll share all my food with him and give the good belly scratches.”

Hayes laughs and shakes his head. “You’re going to spoil my dog, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely. Don’t even tell me where the treats are, I’ll find them on my own and you’ll have a fat dog before the week is over.”

The big dog barks and paws at the ground.

“I hear you, big guy, you want all the treats. Come on, lead the way.”

He happily springs up from his perfect sit and sprints the length of the big open hallway and turns a corner with a four-paw slide in his excitement.

“He’s a big softy, isn’t he?” I look up with a smile at Hayes and catch his appraising look.

“No. He’s a guard dog, but I think you broke him.”

I laugh out loud and leave Hayes at the door to follow the dog, who is poking his giant head around the corner, waiting for me to follow.

“What kind of dog is he?” I call over my shoulder.

“Cane Corso Italiano. His name is Cerberus,” Hayes answers, following behind while I take my time and look all around at his house.

“I love that. It’s perfect for him. Hey, Cerberus, did you find the treats, sweet baby?”

He gives me abarrooof a response and I smile. I follow the dog into a big modern kitchen with slick marble surfaces and glossy cabinets set against stainless steel appliances, white tiles on the walls, and slate gray flooring.

“I think I’m going to like it here.”

“I like you here, too.”

I stop and look over my shoulder at Hayes. He’s leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, his arms crossed over his chest. I smile softly and turn away as my cheeks heat with a blush.

I go to the door Cerberus is standing by, wagging his nub of a tail and looking back at me expectantly. Inside I find a big walk-in pantry that is full of items, but Cerberus leads me right to the container of dog treats. I reward his helpfulness with a few treats as he performs all the tricks I can think to ask him.

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