Page 33 of Boss Me

I froze like I was its prey. “What’s that?”

“What?” He followed my gaze.

“There.” I pointed. “Behind that last lounge chair. Something moved.”

He squinted. “People are walking on the path. Maybe you saw that.”

Sure enough, there was the glint of something shiny—glass, or someone’s phone—and a scuff on the shell path just visible through the trees. But I didn’t think that was what caught my attention. I’d seen something, and it wasn’t human.

“Are there wolves here? Coyotes? Bobcats?”

“No. Could’ve been a rodent. Or a peccary.”

“A peccary?”

“It’s like a wild boar.”

I peered into the darkness, but I saw nothing. I looked down at my hands. One held my shoes, and the other held the takeout bag. Neither would be a good weapon against a whatsit. A wild boar. Did it have tusks?

Now even the surf sounded menacing. “Let’s go.” I’d take the well-lit shell path back to my room after I dropped off Cooper.

I walked as quickly as I could on the beach’s uneven surface. Cooper easily kept pace with his longer legs. I glanced back a few times but saw nothing. I’d almost relaxed when Cooper spoke.

“We’re being followed.”

“By one of those boars? Or a Bigfoot? Do they have those here?” My heart was already skipping in my chest, but it started to jog then.

“No.” He chuckled. “By a Coconut Hound.”

“Is that like the Hound of the Baskervilles?”

“That’s just what they call feral dogs here on the island. Keep walking and look back. Eight o’clock.”

I slowed enough to glance back over my shoulder. A dog skulked behind us, keeping to the shadows, but its eyes glinted in the starlight.

“He probably smells your dinner.”

The dog wasn’t even that big. It was smaller than a Labrador, the dog I’d always wanted. It was light-colored in the starlight, yellow or tan, with a dark face. When I stopped and turned around, it stilled.

“Hey there,” I said softly. I squatted and dropped my shoes onto the sand. Then I set down the bag with my leftovers.

The dog lifted its nose to sniff. Its enormous ears made it look like an overgrown, wingless bat. It took a tentative step toward us, and that’s when I noticed how skinny it was. Its ribs showed even in the starlight. It was about the size of a beagle, but it couldn’t have weighed more than twenty pounds.

Slowly, I reached into the bag and pulled out the foil-wrapped package inside. The kitchen had twisted it into the shape of a swan, with a long foil neck rising over the bundle of steak. The foil crinkled as I began to unwrap it.

“What are you doing?” Cooper’s voice startled the dog, and it shimmied back into the shadows.

“Shh. I’m feeding that poor dog.”

“It’s feral. Wild. It could have a disease. It could bite you.”

I crooned at the dog. “You’re not going to bite me, sweetie, are you?” When I opened the package, the meat scent wafted out. I set it on the sand and scooted back a few steps.

The dog took one hunched, tentative step toward the food, then another.

“That’s right, honey. Come on and have some dinner.”

“You’re just going to teach it to pester tourists, and someone’s going to lock it up for being a nuisance.”

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