Page 13 of Short Stack 3

“What kind?”

“A border terrier.”

“Well, this little one is absolutely fine with other dogs. He loves them. Give yours some space, and this one will work his way into his heart. He’s gorgeous, aren’t you, lovely?”

The dog looks at him but remains close to me, panting as if he’s smiling.

“He feels safe with you,” he observes. “It’s funny, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“Humans meet people they immediately feel comfortable with but often dismiss those instincts as silliness. Dogs know better. They know the one.”

“And I’m it?”

He looks at me assessingly. “Seems that way to me. What about you?”

“Yes,” I say without thinking, all my attention on the thin body nestled into me. He’s still shivering, and something about how he pushes himself into my leg touches my heart. I stroke his head, feeling the silky fur soft beneath my fingertips.

“Ah, here you are.”

All the occupants of the enclosure look up as Mags appears in the doorway. “Making friends, yes?” he says, grinning at me.

“I blame you for this,” I say darkly, and he starts to laugh.

“Mags,” the young man exclaims. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, Dean,” Mags says, his face warm with liking. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. Just got back from a shoot in Antigua.”

“And Jonas?”

Dean’s face lights up, radiating so much love and happiness that it makes me blink. “He’s brilliant, thank you.”

I look at Mags for clarification. “Dean is a model. A supermodel,” he adds.

“Oh my god, I thought I knew you but wondered if you were a friend of my husband’s.” For some reason, Dean seems to like this comment. His eyes twinkle. “I must have seen you on the cover of something.”

“More than likely,” the young man says cheerfully. He smiles at me. “But I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

“You are?” There’s a serene certainty about him that’s mind-boggling.

He nods. “Oh yes. Definitely.” He grins at Mags. “Are you and Laurie coming for dinner at the weekend? Pip and Olivier are over for Christmas.”

“How very loud for you. I have never known anyone who can talk as much as Pip.”

Dean laughs and then turns to me. “Well?” he says, nodding at the small dog that seems surgically attached to my trouser leg. “Are you taking him?”

“Don’t you have to do background checks?” I say desperately.

“I’m a very good judge of character, but maybe it’s best to check.” He turns to Mags. “Do you know this man?” he asks very seriously.

Mags’s eyes twinkle, but he replies just as seriously. “For many years.”

“He’s lying,” I interject. “We just met today.”

Dean flicks me a smile. “And is he good to his dog, Mags?”

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