Page 32 of Finding Gideon
One sharp bark. Tail wagging like a flag on a windy day.
I grinned. “Holy crap, that’s it.”
Malcolm gave a quick, disbelieving laugh “You think?”
“Only one way to know.” I pointed at the dog. “Menace!”
Wild wagging. A loop around the yard like he’d just won Best in Show. Back to me, panting and grinning.
Malcolm stepped down into the grass, crouching to ruffle the dog’s ears. “Menace,” he said again, softer this time. The dog melted against him, eyes half-closed in bliss.
“Mr. Menace,” I said. “Has a ring to it.”
Malcolm chuckled. “Next you’ll be telling me it’s short for Dennis the Menace.”
The dog’s head snapped up atDennis, tail thumping against Malcolm’s leg like a drumbeat.
I shot him a look. “Wait… you saw that, right?”
Malcolm tilted his head, testing. “Dennis?”
The tail wagging kicked into overdrive.
I crouched beside them, laughing. “Dennis the Menace it is. But for everyday purposes, we’ll call you Dennis.”
Malcolm’s mouth curved. “He could do worse.”
Dennis picked that moment to whirl around and pounce on something in the grass—probably a bug or, knowing him, a leaf. He took off like a shot straight for Malcolm’s legs.
Malcolm jolted back, laughing. “Okay, Dennis is right.”
“I’ve got him,” I said, stepping in. But Dennis zigged when I thought he’d zag. I bent to grab his collar just as Malcolm did the same, and our hands knocked together.
We both paused.
And then the dog lunged again—pure muscle and chaos—slamming into Malcolm’s shin hard enough to knock him off balance. Instinct kicked in. I caught him around the waist before he could topple over completely.
For a second, neither of us moved. We just stood there, steadying each other while Dennis tore off to hunt whatever imaginary prey had caught his attention this time.
Malcolm cleared his throat, stepping back with a quiet “Thanks.”
“Part of the job,” I said lightly, though my hands remembered the weight of him longer than they should have.
Dennis bounded back, tongue lolling, blissfully unaware he’d just made things… complicated.
I cleared my throat. “You know,” I said, aiming for casual and not quite managing it, “I realized something the other day. You’re the only vet I’ve ever known who doesn’t have any pets.”
Malcolm’s gaze flicked to mine. “Yeah… not exactly ideal for a guy who runs a clinic, huh?”
“It’s a little surprising. But then again, I don’t actually know that many vets.”
He looked toward the open field past the fence. “In the city, I barely had time to eat. My ex was a trauma vet—we worked opposite shifts most of the time. It would’ve been cruel, honestly, bringing an animal into that.”
I nodded, waiting.
“It wouldn’t have been fair to a kid, either.” His voice dropped a little. “Or a relationship. But especially not to a dog. Or cat. Or anything that needs… consistency.”
The weight of that landed quietly between us.
