Page 14 of Finding Home

The pug wiggled its roly-poly body. Raising to a seated position, she placed him on her lap. Before she could read the bone-shaped name tag dangling from his collar, he attacked with wet kisses.

“I see you’ve met Fitz.” A tall shadow and that familiar citrus scent fell over Elle.

“Sure have. Morning, Clayton.” A fluttery sensation formed in her belly with each syllable of his name. It was like fresh brewed peppermint tea, soothing and warm.

“Good morning, Elle.”

She craned her neck to study his features, which were shaded by that same Yankees cap. Elle was tall for a woman, but Clayton towered above her by seven or eight inches. A light blue shirt molded over his muscular frame, discolored with drying sweat spots along his armpits and collar.

Any self-consciousness about the pieces of her sweat soaked hair dissolved. Both wore the signs of recent exercise. Except, only one of them carried that fresh citrus smell after working out. No doubt her aroma was not as appealing.

“He’s a bit of a flirt.” Clayton pointed at Fitz, who’d flipped on his back to be cradled like a baby in Elle’s arms.

“Is he yours?”

“I think I’m his.”

“I like that. How long have you been with him?”

“About two years. I volunteer at the county shelter. He came in. He was so little. Not little like tiny and cute, but skinny and sunken into himself…and so scared. They couldn’t get him to come out of the crate. He’s stubborn, but I lured him out.” Clayton lowered to his haunches near Elle.

“He’s not skinny anymore,” Elle teased, rubbing Fitz’s squishy belly.

“Don’t fat shame my dog.”Clayton teasingly tutted, leaning over to pet Fitz. The heat of his body caressed her flushed cheeks.

“Did he come with the name Fitz, or did you name him?”

“I named him.”

“Why Fitz?” She turned her gaze from the sleepy pug to his human. That flutter in her stomach kicked up as her hazel eyes met his gray ones.

“His full name is Fitzwilliam, but Fitz for short.”

“Fitzwilliam? Like Colonel Fitzwilliam?”Her eyes widened. “Mr. Darcy’s cousin?”

“It’s also Mr. Darcy’s first name,” he added with a boastful tug of his lips.

“I would never take you for a Jane Austen fan.”

“Why, because I’m a man?” There was an air of playfulness as he bumped his knee against hers.

“No. I once dated a man that read Austen, so I know men can read Austen,” she playfully scoffed.

“A boyfriend?”

“Hardly.” She swatted away the idea like a mosquito. “So, you read Austen.”

“Among other authors. I’m a big reader, always have been.”

“Really?” Searching her memories of Clayton, a fuzzy image of him sitting quietly in study hall, nose in a book, appeared. She’d assumed the book was an assignment, but perhaps not. “Naming your dog after Mr. Darcy is not a casual Austen reader move. That’s some serious fanboy stuff. What made you start reading Austen? Was it a girl?”She wiggled her eyebrows.

He averted his gaze.

“Why Clayton James, did you try to woo a young lady with Jane Austen?” She tapped her bare foot against him, drawing his eyes back to her. “Lucky lady. I think the most romantic thing a man has done for me is pick me up at LAX during rush hour and that was my gay best friend, so it doesn’t count.”

“So, no Mr. Darcy waiting for you?” he asked, wincing immediately, as if stepping in mud.

“No Darcys, Knightleys, or Colonel Brandons. Certainly, no Wickhams or Willoughbys either.”

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