Page 55 of Hearts Held
Peering down at Piggy, I spy the tip of his tail calmly wagging back and forth as he sits, staring at me.
“What do you think? Too boring?” I ask him, gesturing at my clothes and wishing he could reply. His yellow eyes just gleam up at me, almost as if he is amused by my tiny conversation with him.
“Maybe I should call it off? I’m under the weather, yeah? We could stay in and have a cuppa. Just you and me?” I state. Pig’s whole tail wags back and forth in approval, until I hear a loud knock on the door. I startle as Piggy runs down the steps, patrolling the door.
Making my way down the steps, I control my breathing, trying to calm my nerves.
I open the door slowly despite my rushing heartbeat. I find Dr. Brendon waiting eagerly. He gives a slow smile and walks toward the door.
But before he can step into my townhome, Pig begins snapping and snarling at him.
Immediately forcing the door shut, I glare down at Pig.
“Hey! That’s not polite, sir! Did Everett teach you to snarl at any man that comes by?” I barkat the dog.
He sits on his rear, posted to the door in an alerted stance, ginger neck hairs raised. He snorts through his nose, awaiting my next movement as I roll my eyes at his dramatic posture.
I crack the door only so I may peek through to respond to Dr. Brendon.
“Hiya, sorry, he is just very protective.” I try to give a nervous chuckle.
Dr. Brendon’s eyebrows raise. “I didn’t know you had a dog.” I follow his gaze down to Piggy.
Pig stares back at Dr. Brendon with a glare of utmost disgruntlement, his amber eyes reminding me of Everett’s.
“All right, let’s go!” I squeeze past the pup and through the open door.
Dr. Brendon takes me to a small Italian restaurant across town. The food is excellent, but the conversation is lacking.
It appears that, though Dr. Brendon is utterly handsome and initially seemed kind, he is a misogynistic narcissist. Most of the conversation—actually,allof it—is dominated by him.
Though it may take me a moment to open up to a new person, I have no opportunity to even discuss whether I like the dish I’m eating. In fact, Dr. Brendon ordered it for me, something I had not experienced before. Luckily I’m famished, so all food sounds delicious. I never expected to eat snails in my life, but he orders something called es-car-goat. It’s unsettling to feel like I need to eat everything he orders, but his face crinkles if I don’t finish a dish, or don’t nod my head enough times in agreement with whatever he’s saying about his childhood or interests. He also downs many bourbons, to the point where I lose count, which is slightly unsettling. He repeatedly tries to reach across the table and grab my hand, but I instinctively lift my napkin to pat at my mouth before he gets the chance.
He’s just a little too much.
Plus, my mind keeps wandering to Everett. Wondering what dinner withhimwould be like.
Once we finish, I cannot wait to get home and relax in my bed. To take off this polite mask I have plastered on my face so I won’t offend Dr. Brendon in any manner. I need to figure out a tactical way to decline any future dates he may offer.
I realize on the drive back I haven’t let Piggy out for quite some time. Lord, my guilt is going to cause an aneurysm. Thinking of turning down another potential date from Dr. Brendon and poor Pig holding his bladder for a few hours has my head throbbing.
As he stops in front of my house, I swiftly place my hand out for a handshake goodbye, then state, “I’m so sorry I must rush, my dog hasn’t gotten outside for a while. Thank you for the dinner. It was lovely!”
He peers down at my hand, then up to my face in confusion. To hurry the interaction along I reach down and grab his hand for a polite, professional shake, then exit the vehicle.
Entering my home, I find Piggy sitting in front of the door. Undoubtedly anticipating my return. His unamused, disgruntled, wrinkled face stares back at me. Then he pops up from his seated position, wagging histail and rubbing his gigantic head on my lower leg like a cat. Silly pup.
I’m surprised I took to his company so easily. Now I can’t imagine a life without this big brute.Much like my Adders.
Leading him to the backyard, I open the door and let Pig out. He runs out to relieve himself, then I admire him as he walks around the yard to sniff, his large form gallivanting in the backyard, yet stop every so often to peer up at the sky. I’m interrupted by the sound of my front door opening. I furrow my brow. I thought I locked the front door, but I must have been too concerned with Piggy.
I hear footsteps ascend my stairs as Dr. Brendon’s voice calls out. “Brielle?”
What is he doing? I thought I bid him adieu for the night. I immediately rush up the stairs, finding him atop the steps, peering into different rooms. Swiftly I squeeze in front of him so he doesn’t enter mine.
“Hi, what are you doing, sir?” I question apprehensively.
His slow, sly smile spreads across my skin like a bucket of stickyalgae.
