I rake my fingers through my hair, coaxing some more volume into it. Slow, deliberate motions, lifting the stands at the roots and fluffing them out like I have any clue what I’m doing.
I don’t, and I’ll blame my actions on the hug. That stupid hug I gave him.
I exit the bathroom, slinking down the hall toward the living room where the early morning sun slips through the slats of the drawn sliding glass door blinds, spilling across the living roomfloor in golden streaks. Dust motes drift in the beams, waltzing lazily, while the soft glow floods the edges of furniture and walls.
I chuckle to myself thinking ofThe Lion King. “Everything the light touches …”
Wow. I need a life.
The room is still, quiet, and the recliner Ms. Sullivan typically sits in is empty with only the folded quilt tucked across the worn fabric.
I chew my lip, worrying the thin skin until I taste a metallic tang in my mouth. Should I start breakfast? Do I need to take the turkey out of the fridge? Suddenly, I feel really stupid for having gotten up at 6:00 a.m. prepared to tackle the day and overly ready like some sort of sucker.
Fortunately, I don’t have to contemplate too long.
The front door bursts open, and before Noah can bark out a command, Max bulldozes his way to me in three strides. His sleek, yet powerful body twists and surges with combustible energy, his tail wagging so fast it’s blurred. Ears perked high, his eyes lock with mine, brimming with excitement, and I can’t help the squeak that tumbles out of my mouth in a disturbing baby voice. A deep, happy whine escapes from him as he skids to a stop just shy of crashing into me. His tongue darts out, offering a sloppy kiss to my bare toes.
“Max!” Noah grounds out, his hand full of extra bags and a masculine-looking navy duffel that makes my throat constrict—the reminder he’s staying here for the next few nights swirling on overdrive in the back of my mind. “Sitz,” he commands.
Max stops and immediately sits, but still gives me those pleading eyes I can’t resist. Reaching out, I scratch his head, smiling and glancing up to find Noah staring at me. Cheeks red, he quickly averts his eyes, and I cringe at the thought he was wondering why I was in a dress.
Noah dressed as usual, like he would for any day off work. Blue jeans and a long-sleeve waffle shirt, a grayish-blue color that looks fancy except for the Carhart logo stitched into the shirt by his hip. After dumping his stuff on the table, he kicks off his boots and looks at me.
“What?” I ask. If I was feeling self-conscious a minute ago, now, my nerves are exceptionally frayed with his piercing gaze.
“You, uh, look nice.”
The corner of my mouth twitches even though heat floods my cheeks. “Thanks.”
He glances at Max, then at me. “Hey, mind if I try something?”
I raise my eyebrows. “Sure. What’s up?”
“I’d like to see something. Bear with me.”
I nod, and he issues a command to Max.
“Max.Pass auf.”
Immediately, Max stands, his sharp eyes scanning the room and the hallway beyond. Locked in and waiting, he shifts his weight subtly, muscles twitching and taut beneath his fur. I want to ask Noah what’s going on, but I also don’t want to disturb whatever he’s trying to “see.”
Max’s eyes dart again, toward the front door, and he sniffs the air once, his nostrils flaring.
Noah moves, slowly, hunched over, creeping oddly around one of the chairs.
Max snaps to my side, his body going perfectly still.
“Gib Laut.”
Max growls and lets out three consecutive barks that send a shiver up my spine, considering I had my hands near his mouth a second ago. His rattling growl is dutiful to a fault, and the wheels turn in my head as Max mirrors Noah’s circling moves around the kitchen. Every step Noah takes, Max plays the game, putting himself between Noah and me.
Max stays on guard until Noah issues out the command I know as down and tells him he’s a good dog, and then it’s over and he’s back wagging his tail at my feet rather than the menacing stare.
“Can I ask a question now?” I whisper.
Noah laughs and nods.
“What was that?”
