Page 100 of Hit Me With Your Best Shot

“Behave,” I hiss at him, pointing a finger at him before hurrying to the door. “Stay!”

He sits.

I take one last deep breath, plastering on what I hope is a relaxed smile—and open it.

“Hey,” he says, his smile easy and warm.

“Hey,” I manage, moving aside to let him in. “Come on in.”

He steps into my small foyer, glancing around the room as ifhe were searching for something—or someone, aka: Gio—tentatively crossing the threshold.

“Thanks.” He kisses me on the lips by way of greeting before stepping further inside. “Is it safe?”

Before I can respond, my dog makes his presence known, trotting into the room with his signature awkward gait. He stops a few feet away from Gio, eyes locked on the human version of Gio, sizing him up.

The dog sniffs the air.

Takes one dinky step forward.

It’s like a showdown in the Wild West.

When Gio puts his hand on my waist to pull me in for a hug, the dog freezes, his scraggly body stiff, watery eyes narrowing.

One more step forward…

I half expect tumbleweed to roll across the carpet.

“This is Gio,” I tell my date, pointing toward the dog, who tilts his

head, underbite catching the light enough to look menacing, like he’s debating whether to make friends or declare war.

Gio kneels down a few feet away, keeping his movements slow and deliberate.

“Hey, buddy,” he says, his voice warm and unthreatening. He holds out his hand like a peace offering, palm up so Gio can sniff it. “We’re going to be cool, right?”

“No,” I mutter to the dog. “Don’t you dare start growling.”

Jesus, can nothing ever be easy?

My dumb dog rumbles low in his chest, barely audible, and grows in volume that should not be so loud given the size of his

body. His lip curls, exposing far too many crooked teeth.

“Great.” Gio’s laugh sounds nervous as he holds up his hands in mock surrender. “He hates me. Message received.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” I insist, reaching out to scratch Gio behind his silky ears. “I’m so sorry he’s growling—I warned him to behave, but he doesn’t want to listen.”

I give the dog a sharp look. “Gio, knock it off.” Then to Gio, “He won’t eat you, I swear.”

I don’t think…

Truth be told, I haven’t introduced the dog to a man. I haven’t dated anyone since Dad passed away, so this is new to both of us.

The dog and I, I mean.

His scratchy snarl fades to a weak grumble, though his stance remains cautious. His eyes flick to me, then back to the man, almost as if he’s waiting for my signal.

Oh for the love of God.

---