Searching for Always
Stone took in their lolling tongue, sharp eyes, and big snouts. Then he freaked.
Sweat broke out on his skin. A low panic clawed at his stomach. He took a few steps back.
“Stone, are you okay? Just pick one and clip on the leash.”
He stared back at her, shaking his head hard. “I’m more of a cat person. I’ll go to the cat house instead.”
She frowned. “The cat house is being refurbished, so it’s off-limits today.”
“Then I’ll hit the stables.”
“Horse training is an entire day.”
The image of the pit bull leaping at him, teeth bared, drawing blood while he screamed like a baby and writhed on the ground hit him full force. It was suddenly hard to breathe. He was getting the hell out. “Well, I’ll help in the office or something. I’m not doing this. I told you I hate dogs and always have.”
He beat a hasty retreat, but she was suddenly in front of him, placing her hands gently on his arm. “Stone? I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”
He gritted his teeth. Wished for a cigarette so bad he figured the patch would explode off him. “Know what?”
“The dogs. Did you get bit?”
The horror of her knowing his one weakness made him snap. “I’m not afraid of the damn dogs, okay? I just don’t like them. Is that a fucking crime?”
Instead of yelling back or telling him to breathe, she smiled. Her voice lilted like soothing music, and her fingers interlaced with his. The touch of her skin against his grounded him back to earth. “No, it’s not a crime,” she said. “Neither is being skittish around an animal you don’t know. It’s called being smart.” She gazed at the kennels, her eyes sad. “Many dogs, especially the pit bulls, are bred for meanness. It’s almost like having something good but shaping it into evil. Some can’t even be saved, they’re too far gone in the darkness and fighting for survival. Others still manage to see the light and the goodness. See, they’re just like people. Some good, some bad, some right in the middle.”
She faced him again. “It’s my fault for not checking with everyone about how they feel about animals. I’m sorry. And if you were bitten, that’s a traumatic experience very difficult to get over. Dogs need to earn your trust back, just like we need to earn theirs sometimes.”
He suddenly felt stupid being embarrassed over something that wasn’t his fault. How did she do that? Make him see things in a different way? He cleared his throat. “Sorry. I was a kid and a pit bull knocked me down, bit the hell out of my leg. The owner just laughed and urged the dog on.”
She nodded. “Yeah, I hear those stories a lot. Most dogs don’t start off that way, but it’s probably too late. We can’t save them all. That’s why I wanted to rescue Pinky so badly. I thought maybe there’d be a chance.”
How often had he uttered condolences to a family member who lost someone? A weak excuse but all he had left to offer. The tightness in his chest eased. In her own way, Arilyn knew the battle he took on every day. So much loss, but you did it for the occasional win.
“Why’d you name that thing Pinky?”
She gave a half shrug. “Knew a Chihuahua with the name. She kicked butt and carried herself like royalty. Thought the poor thing could use a cool namesake.”
“It’s an awful name.”
She grinned, and his heart lightened. Damn this woman and her ability to make him feel good as much as she pissed him off. It was terrible. “Next time you rescue an animal, you can name her,” she said.
“Catching criminals is bad enough. I’ll pass.”
She pursed her lips, and her green eyes sparkled with laughter. His gaze focused on her lush mouth and what he wanted to do with it. She cleared her throat as if she knew. And wanted it, too. “How are you doing with the smoking?” She jerked her head toward his arm.
“Not bad. I’m on the last level, so I’m almost fit for real society now. Still get the cravings, though.”
“Maybe I can help.” She unzipped her small satchel, fished around, and drew out a purple stone. It had a brown cord attached to it. “Here. I want you to wear this.”
He fingered the rock. Shades of violet and white, it was carved into a type of pendant. “What is it? Heart of the newt?”
She snorted, reached over, and slipped the necklace around his neck. The cord was soft, like a moccasin. It hung low enough to hide in his shirt. When her fingers brushed his chest to tuck it inside his button-down Henley, he sucked in a breath. She paused, and that crackle of electricity struck again.
He tried again for humor instead of tumbling her into the grass. “You didn’t put a love spell or anything on me, did you?”
She yanked her hands away as if she’d been scorched and stepped back. “You’re a real comedian, Officer. It’s a crystal amethyst. Wear it against your skin. It’s a very powerful stone and helps smoking cessation.”
He fingered the polished stone briefly before letting it drop back against his chest. “Didn’t see it in the how-to-quit-smoking aisle.”
“You won’t. Amethyst is known as the master healing stone. One of its many uses is to transform addiction.” He studied the high flush on her cheekbones. “Forget it. I know you think I’m crazy; you don’t have to wear it.” She spun on her heel to flounce off, but he grabbed her wrist, halting her retreat.
“No,” he said softly. “I’ll wear it. I need all the help I can get.” She lifted her gaze and suddenly they were drowning in each other. He suddenly felt like one of those testosterone-ridden chumps from the teen movies. Completely smitten by a girl’s eyes. Ugh. “Thanks.” Better. His voice sounded stronger.