Piecing these facts together, I realize I was right.
She took my dog. And while I should be pissed, all I can think is…
I get to see her again.
–––
Sweetville is the size of a postcard, at least it feels like it sometimes, so how the hell can she evade me? If I didn’t know better, I’d say that’s intentional. In fact, at one store, I swear I caught Enzo barking, but Ashton, part owner of the local bookstore with her twin, Corbin, stated she didn’t hear it when I questioned her about it.
I finally started thinking straight and went directly to the source, so to speak. Nora. She was with Cydne, and was listed in her cell, so chances are she knows where I can find her. And she does, I can tell by her smirk, but she says otherwise.
These two are thick as thieves already, with it being literal in Cydne’s case. As it’s almost two, I need to begin getting ready for work. Since I closed yesterday, I get to go in late. A quick calculation informs me I’ve been searching for my woman and this dog…err, this woman and my dog – Freudian slip there? – for about three hours now. This is insane.
Heading home, a car I don’t recognize passes me on my street, and I give a friendly wave. It took a while to get used to doing that, but it’s standard behavior now, even if you don’t know the person on the receiving end. I think it’s a rule in the town handbook included in the welcome basket.
I’m shocked by the sadness I experience, knowing Enzo won’t be inside when I get there, and I acknowledge it. Accept it. It’s part of my resolution to myself since moving here. No more denying my feelings and bottling them up. Even the scary ones such as already missing Enzo…and her.
But when I open my door, he’s right there, looking happy as can be, no worse for the wear. Hell, he’s actually cleaner. And decked out in a little sweater. You’ve got to be kidding me! She clothed my canine. “Hey, buddy. Let me get that off you,” I say, sure he’s ready to be done with it. I’m wrong. He lets me pet him and give him a hug, leaning his body against mine in his own version of the same, but when I touch the material, he steps back. I hold up my hands in surrender. “Okay. You can keep it on for now.”
Hungry, not having the chance to eat the breakfast I’d hoped to share with my erstwhile guest, I veer to the kitchen, intent on reheating my portion – and probably hers, too – only to find the bag gone.
She may have brought my dog back, but then she took the food. Like she was exchanging one for the other.
For the first time in more years than I want to admit, I laugh. Hard. The sound starts deep in my belly, settles for a beat in my heart, then rips from my throat. It’s rusty, there’s no doubt about that, but it also feels damn good.
I suddenly find myself wondering what she’ll do next.
And fervently hoping she does something.
Chapter Four
Cydne
March 21st…
I park about a block away, having retrieved my car from Tap That while out with Enzo yesterday, then casually stroll toward my destination, thrilled to see the drive empty. Him not having a garage makes this so much easier.
Removing the spare key from my pocket, I insert it into the knob. I didn’t see a control panel indicating he had an alarm system, but I still keep my ears peeled for an alert from it or the approach of sirens.
What greets me instead is a happy bark from Enzo, and that has me rushing in to see him. “How’s my good boy?” I ask. He dances around me in a circle, a front paw rising to bat at his leash, letting me know he’s ready to go.
I grab some treats, then steal a glance at the schedule still sitting there, mentally check it against the one I took a picture of and memorized, and carry on with my task. Before we walk out, I replace the key I’d taken, which had been helpfully marked as the spare on a hook next to Enzo’s leash that I’d used to let myself in. The copy I’d made at the hardware store is safely attached to my own keyring, which I use to lock the door behind me. Whistling, I lead Enzo to my ride, laughing as he hops right in the passenger seat as if he belongs there, and drive off.
I’m lucky my job gives me the freedom to set my own hours and I don’t take advantage of that. It’s what allowed me to pack up and move without hesitation, knowing I could take my clients with me and do it wherever I landed. Being an editor is lucrative, fun, and always different. It caters to my joy of reading and English, so it’s perfect for me.
I’m currently caught up, having finished the last job on my calendar this morning before getting Enzo, two days early, mind you. So, I’m going to enjoy relaxing until the next hits my inbox.
Yesterday, going around town, staying one step ahead of Curtis, was the most fun I’ve had in…ever. Because of that, it took me a bit to realize the residents were helping me, egging me on in some cases. I thought for sure my cover was blown when I stopped at the bookstore to browse their shelves, something I’ve done regularly since arriving, when Ashton alerted me that Curtis had just pulled in. Instead, she ushered me to the back, showing me the rear exit that would allow me to make a clean get away. I’d stood there, listening in awe as she covered for me. Honestly, it brought tears to my eyes. Still does, actually. I never felt part of something, not even with the people I shared a last name with, until literal strangers took me in and made me one of them.
With that fact fresh in my mind, I’d felt a bit guilty about what I was doing to Curtis, then Enzo laid his head on my lap, nudging my hand for a rub, and I got over it. I mean, Enzo is clearly okay with it, so it can’t be that bad, right?
Throughout the day, I keep an eye on the time, wanting to make sure Enzo is back in between Curtis’ breaks. It’s kind of his fault when you really think on it. He wrote his expected breaks down on the schedule, even labeling them as such, like he was goading me to do it.
That makes no sense.
Nobody asked you.
What are you going to do when you get caught? What if he doesn’t find this as amusing as you do?