Page 4 of Downward Dawg
Then, he remembered her colored cheeks, the shy smile she’d thrown over her shoulder on the way out of the shop.
Shehadbeen flirting, in an understated way. Hell, even her outfit had been a statement. Previously, she’d donned a filmy overshirt before talking to him. Today?
She came over dressed like a dream come true.
He glanced back at the website, clicking on the “about” information. It had a contact form and her business address.
I wonder.
Twenty minutes later, he closed the browsers and flipped back to the spreadsheet. With the information he’d gleaned jotted on a piece of paper in his pocket, it was hard to focus on business. Mad Dawg took a moment to get plans for tonight settled in his head, then forced his brain back to work.
Later it would be time to put things into motion.
Chapter Two
Elodie
Blowing out a steady stream of air, Elodie changed position, shifting fluidly from a dynamic dragon pose to a side plank. She held the pose for ten slow breaths that got gradually shakier as time went on, then brought her body down to the mat, curling on her side in a fetal position. Monitoring her breathing, she marked the moment when her lungs no longer felt oxygen starved, and slowly fluttered her lids open.
Not two feet away was a mongrel-looking pup, eyes fixed on her in a concentrated stare.
Elodie laughed and patted the mat beside her, winding up with an armful of fluffy dog a moment later. He snuggled close, running his nose under her cheek to press as tight against her as he could manage.
“You’re a good boy, aren’t you, Chickie Nuggie? My boy.” She ruffled the curly hair on top of Chicken Nugget’s head. His blue and green eyes stayed fixed on her. Clearly the pooch had poodle and husky somewhere in his mixed lineage. “Such a good wait.” He wiggled again, his whole body vibrating with joy. “You might be a Heinz 57, but you’re 100 percent good boy.”
She pushed to a seated position, then transitioned to her feet, avoiding placing an appendage on the dog only with difficulty. He seemed to be everywhere at once, and the level of his excitement had her looking at the clock. “Shoot and darn, I’m late feeding you. Sorry, sorry.”
Once that chore was completed, Elodie showered and pulled on her favorite flannel pajamas, then stood waiting at the back door as her dog took care of business. Wet hair trailed uncomfortably along her neck, and she grimaced as Chicken ran back through the door. Elodie grabbed a fresh towel from the clean bin next to the dryer, and barely beat the dog to the couch. She bundled her hair into the towel, twisting it into a turban.
“Okay, what shall we watch tonight?”
Together they picked out a movie,a new one featuring a story by one of her favorite authors, D.M. Earl. Smiling, Elodie settled in to watch the show,barely begun when she first heard the now-familiar rumble of a motorcycle. Way out here in her out-of-the-way, cul-de-sac type neighborhood, the sound was an extremely unlikely occurrence. Frowning slightly, Elodie clambered to her feet, pausing the movie as she tossed the blanket in a drape over the back of the couch.
Chicken arrived before her at the front door, dancing on his lively paws, but Elodie had her hand on the knob before the echoes of the motorcycle had died away. “Back, Chickie Nuggie. Sit, please.”
She swung the door wide to see Mad Dawg outside, still sitting astride his huge, black motorcycle. Instead of the soft-looking T-shirts he wore around the shop, he was zipped into a leather jacket that gave him an air of danger. Elodie felt a tiny frisson of fear chatter down her spine, because at first glance he didn’t appear to be her eager-to-please business neighbor. No, this man was a biker, through and through. That feeling was immediately followed by the flush of interest and excitement that’d had her watching him every chance she got.I’ve known him for months, and he’s never given me any reason not to trust him.
Still, biker equaled …outlaw.The word flashed through her mind and Elodie mentally shook her head, dismissing the idea. The man owned a small business storefront in a strip mall, for goodness’ sakes. The two things didn’t compute.My gut says he’s one of the good ones.The fear died away, leaving a thrill in its place.He’s here.She didn’t know why, but the fact he’d sought her out made her smile.
“Hi,” she called in welcome, lifting a hand. Chicken scooted close enough his sweeping tail hugged the back of her legs, a low, never-ending growl vibrating through him. “Imagine meeting you here. Is something wrong?”
If Mad Dawg had looked large in his store, and big sitting on the bike, when he swung his leg off and stood upright clad in black leather, he was huge as a mountain, with a face as frozen as the largest slab of granite.
Yeah, something was definitely wrong. He always had a smile for her.
“Nothing’s wrong,” he told her, and she immediately wished for the ability to hear lies, because… well, right now he was being a lying liar MacLiarson.
She made a soft scoffing sound. “Okay, well. That’s good. Glad to hear it. So, how did you know where I live?” While they’d shared several conversations over the months, none of them had been an exchange of personal information. “Pretty sure I’d remember telling you that.”
The tension in his face relaxed slightly at her joking tone. “You listed your home address as the contact for your website.”
He’d said the words as if they’d make sense, and she cocked her head to the side in case that’d make it better.Nope. Still wonky.
“My website. You got my address from my website? What? Why? And why are you here? If nothing’s wrong? Not that I mind you being here.” She gestured at the bike vaguely. “But don’t you have biker things to do?”In my favorite books, there are always biker things to do.She was still a bit confused at his casual statement about her website.Mental note to check my private info isn’t public.It wouldn’t do to have studio members showing up at her home.Or stalkers, unless it’s cute biker ones.
“Nah, church is tomorrow night.” He shrugged as he walked towards her, the bottom edge of his jacket skimming right on top of his narrow hips, which sat above his tree trunk thighs, ready for her to climb.
Gah. Stop looking at him like that.
