Page 3 of Perfectly Leashed
“Good policy.” Darcy fought a losing battle with a shy smile, heart tumbling stupidly inside his chest. “Maybe I should try it.”
“Maybe,” Luca agreed, eyes lingering gently before refocusing on the dogs. “Or maybe you just need practice. I could show you a few tricks. If you’re up for it.”
Oh, Darcy was definitely up for it. Whatever it entailed. He swallowed, nodding a little too quickly. “Yeah. Tricks. Sounds good.”
They stood there for another beat, comfortable in the quiet hum between them, until Meatball barked impatiently.
Luca gestured ahead. “Lead the way, Darcy. Let’s see if we can get you through your walk in one piece.”
Darcy stepped forward, shoulders squared, leash slack, and for the first time since waking up at the asscrack of dawn, he felt something like control.
Or maybe it was just Luca’s quiet strength hovering beside him.
Either way, he’d take it.
But the dogs were out to prove his incompetence. Two more steps and Atlas darted toward a tree as the Doberman spotted a poodle hanging out of a car window and was off to the races. “Whoa! Atlas, Jimbo, stop!”
Darcy was nearly yanked off his feet, both dogs running in opposite directions. A strong hand clasped the leashes, and an ear-piercing whistle almost punctured his eardrums.
The dogs immediately stilled, glancing back like they were awaiting further instructions. Darcy rubbed his shoulder and wondered if he’d need a chiropractor at some point.
Maybe becoming a dogwalker when he knew nothing about canines hadn’t been such a bright idea. Darcy was worried they would run out in traffic one of these days. He’d only been doing this for three days, but if he didn’t figure it out soon, he’d have to give it up. Luca was right. They needed a pack leader, not a pack follower.
Luca tugged gently on Atlas’s leash, guiding the Great Dane effortlessly back into formation. “Come walk next to me,” he said, voice a calm rumble. “Easier if I show you.”
Darcy hesitated, forcing his sneakers to move, ignoring the sudden flutter in his stomach. It was hard enough walking without tripping, let alone maintaining coherent thoughts next to Mr. Tall, Dark, and Competent.
“You’re overthinking.” Luca’s eyes were forward, watching each dog with calm confidence. “Feel their energy, not the leash.”
Snorting softly, Darcy shook his head. “Sounds suspiciously like yoga.”
His laugh was deep and rich. “Trust me, I don’t do yoga.”
The mental image of Luca, grease-stained shop rag in hand, doing the downward dog sent heat flooding Darcy’s face. Fuck his imagination sideways.
“So, no yoga,” he managed, scrambling for composure. “Just dog whispering?”
Luca’s lip twitched. “You could call it that.”
They walked slowly down the sidewalk, Darcy stealing sideways glances at Luca’s posture, memorizing the way his relaxed fingers loosely held the leashes. Nothing tense or panicked in his stance, yet every dog trotted obediently beside him.
“You’re still tense.” Luca’s gray eyes slid his way. “The dogs feel it.”
“Can’t exactly help it,” Darcy muttered. “Kind of my default state around chaos. Dogs, squirrels—”
“Strangers?” Luca interrupted gently.
Was the guy flirting? It was flirting, right? Darcy wished his internal radar wasn’t so hopelessly broken. He’d always been horrible at picking up on cues. One time, he thought a cute guy was checking him out, only to realize the stranger had something in his eye. Another time, a handsome man crooked his finger. Darcy had started forward then stopped when a medium-sized dog ran to its owner.
“Maybe.” His cheeks burned hotter.
“You’re doing fine,” Luca assured quietly. “Just try again. Hold this.”
Their fingers brushed as he handed over Atlas’s leash, sending a shiver through Darcy. He tightened his grip—too tightly, apparently, because the Dane immediately strained against him. Luca stepped closer, shoulder brushing Darcy’s. Warmth radiated from him, steady and oddly reassuring.
“Loosen your hold,” he murmured, his breath ghosting the sensitive skin near Darcy’s ear.
Swallowing hard, Darcy fought the instinct to lean closer. He relaxed his fingers fractionally, feeling like a moron when Atlas immediately settled into an easy pace.
