I must tilt my head like Athena does when I use a word she doesn’t know, because the big man laughs and holds out his free hand. “I’m Mason, nice to meet you.”
Mason. Mason, Mason...I spin through my mental Rolodex, trying to remember why I know that name, but I’m still coming down from my frantic chase across the park, so it takes a second before I remember.
This is my dog trainer?
“You got a leash?” he asks.
“I…Uh…” I lift up the useless handle to the retractable leash.
He eyes it scornfully. “Is that what you use all the time?”
“Well, not anymore,” I say, going for a joke, but he obviously doesn’t think much of my sense of humor or my choice in dog-walking paraphernalia.
“One second.” He turns, then seems to remember he’s still holding on to my squirming husky. He glances down at her then back at me. “You okay to take her?”
“Of course.” Why wouldn’t I be? I grip the harness and nearly get pulled off my feet again as Athena lunges when Mason goes to walk away.
He grins at us. “You sure?”
I give him my best smile. “Absolutely.”
Great. We have made an outstanding first impression.
Also, his ass looks amazing in his sweatpants, and that’s no small feat. I struggle to tear my gaze off him as he walks back to the parking lot. Fortunately, Athena catches sight of a squirrel and lunges for it, somehow managing to get one leg out of the harness before I am able to corral her. She leaps in my arms, licking my chin, making me laugh.
“Here you go.”
I glance up, and Mason is holding out a leash that basically looks like a length of rope looped around itself.
“I can’t use that. It’ll choke her,” I say, even as Athena struggles to get back to Mason, whining impatiently. I’ve read about slip leashes like this. They can crush a puppy’s trachea.
But Mason’s lips curl into a soft smile that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. He holds the leash out a second time. “Trust me. We’re going to stop that.”
And even though I can tell you all the reasons why dogs shouldn’t be on a leash like this and all about how I’ve gone through six different harnesses trying to find one that doesn’t rub in the wrong spots and that Athena can’t get out of—though clearly number six isn’t a perfect fit either—I take the leash from him and slip it over her head.
I wish I could say it was a magic fix and that she immediately turns into the perfectly behaved dog, but Athena grabs hold of the leash, yanking it out of my hand and shaking it violently. She dances around us in a circle as if to show off her kill. At least she doesn’t take off again.
“Are we waiting on anyone else?” Mason asks.
“Like who?” I say.
“Partner? Kids?”
“Oh.” I shake my head. “Just me.”
When Mason squats down again, Athena comes straight to him, and maybe I’m developing a sweatpants fetish or something, but suddenly even his knees are sexy. His hands are soft as he scratches behind Athena’s ears and under her chin.
“Has she had any basic obedience training?”
“We’ve been working on it.”
“At home?” he says.
“We’re trying,” I say, because even though I’ve been confident so far in my decision to not go to any of the local puppy training classes, suddenly, now that Mason’s staring up at me with hazel eyes speckled in copper and—
Wow. I definitely need to get out more.
But Mason apparently doesn’t notice, because he’s standing and reaching into his pocket.
