We arrange to meet the next day, this time at my apartment.
Vann brings me a fresh coffee.
“Did you call him?”
“You didn’t use to be this bossy,” I growl, flipping him off.
He laughs. He’s already on his knees making cooing sounds to Athena, because the coffee was clearly all a ruse to love on my dog. “I’m invested in you finding a guy who’s worth your time.”
“Just like you were invested in warning me that Gavin was a cheating asshole?”
His smile fades, and I regret my words immediately. I’m still angry about Gavin, but none of what happened is Vann’s fault. He’s my best friend, not my fairy godmother.
“I did say I didn’t like how he treated you.”
“You said his kink was fishy. That’s not the same thing.”
“I said he wasn’t the Dom for you.”
Vann is a bossy top, through and through. And while he’s made his opinions on Gavin clear, it’s not that black-and-white. We agreed on the terms of our relationship and what was allowed in the bedroom...or wherever we happened to be. I wasn’t afraid to say no, but Gavin was always pushing. He said the point of exploring kink was to move beyond what we were comfortable with, and I wanted to make him happy. And sometimes I didn’t succeed at that.
Not that I’m going to say anything like that to Vann. It’ll start a whole other argument, right here in the middle of the street. Instead, I sip on my coffee while he plays with Athena until Jess taps on the window and gives a pointed look to the two people standing at the counter waiting to place an order.
When a pigeon lands on the sidewalk and Athena lunges for it, nearly pulling the chair out from under me yet again, I take it as a sign and pack up.
Sometime that evening, while I’m watching TV, Athena breaks into the fridge and eats a pound of butter. I spend most of the night cleaning up greasy puppy pukes and questioning every single one of my life choices. The virtual vet says she’ll be fine, but that doesn’t help me sleep during the few hours I have left in the night.
Mason can’t arrive soon enough.
6
Mason
Charlie livesa few blocks from Bold Brew. His apartment is a main-floor walkout in a converted house. I’m not one of those people who say a dog can’t live in an apartment, but being on the ground level is definitely an advantage.
I knock and am greeted by a distant “come in!” Normally I’d give it a few seconds, just in case Charlie appears at the door, but his words are followed by a lot of excited barking then a crash and a curse, so I let myself in.
The house is a lot tidier than I’d expect, given the noise coming from farther inside. Even without it, people who have a high-energy dog like Athena tend to have toys, mats, and other gear scattered around. By comparison, Charlie’s front hall is immaculate, with one coat hung neatly on a hook. A small shelving unit holds a bunch of bins like you buy at those home organization stores. They’re labeled in sparkly letters with words likeLeashes,Harnesses,andCoats, and I wonder how many variations of all the above Charlie has gone through in his effort to get a handle on Athena.
She’s a good dog. Independent like all huskies. And Charlie clearly wants her to succeed, but he doesn’t have any idea how to go about it.
“Put it down. Athena. Down. Put it—no.”
I make my way up the hall and find Charlie in his bedroom, engaged in an epic battle of tug-of-war with his dog. Unfortunately, instead of a leash or tug toy, they’re pulling on opposite ends of what looks like a rainbow-colored speedo.
“Drop it. Drop it.” Charlie’s voice is probably meant to sound ominous, but Athena is clearly not taking him seriously. She shakes her head from side to side, and the sound of tearing seams is audible.
Then Charlie drops the swimsuit and basically tackles his dog, wrestling her to the floor as he grapples for her mouth so he can pry her jaws apart.
Even with the best-behaved dog, this is risky. Sticking your fingers in any dog’s mouth is an invitation to get bit.
“Stop.” I’m across the room in two seconds. Charlie freezes instantly, while Athena dances away, showing off her rainbow prize proudly. I snap my fingers and step into her space. She backs up but hits the closet door almost immediately, forcing her to sit down. She stares up at me, and I hold her gaze until she finally drops the speedo, licking her lips in satisfaction. A few more moments, and she finally settles to the floor, chin on her paws. I bend to pick up the mangled bathing suit and hold it out to Charlie.
“Yours, I assume?”
He won’t quite meet my eyes as he takes it from me, but he blushes the most appealing shade of pink.
And that’s when I realize I’m literally standing in his bedroom. Contrary to the other glimpses of the apartment I got as I rushed through, which seemed to follow an almost-clinical “a place for everything and everything in its place” philosophy, this room has a comfortable lived-in feel. A couple of the drawers in the dresser are partially open, and the bed, covered in a stark-white comforter, is unmade.
