I unlatch the door of an upper kennel and greet a curly black terrier with fearful eyes. “Come on, sweetie,” I coax, edging my hand into the kennel. “We’re going to make you soft and pretty and clean smelling so you’ll find your new home.”
The dog gives me a dubious tail wag and shoots a nervous glance at the hulking man beside me. Dax steps back, giving me space to work. “Don’t you worry about him,” I murmur to the dog. “He might look scary, but he’s really quite sweet.”
Dax snorts behind me, making the dog jump and give a halfhearted snarl. “Now, now,” I soothe. “You don’t really mean that. You’re just playing tough because you’re scared. I know all about it.”
I keep my voice low, the words spilling out of me secondary to the soothing tone that’s worked wonders on skittish canines all morning. Slowly, the dog’s ears perk up, and her skinny black tail gives a tentative wag.
“There you go, babycakes. Is that your name? Babycakes?”
“It’s a boy,” Dax points out. “How about Axel or Deathmetal?”
“Deathmetal?” I roll my eyes at Dax, but the dog gives a soft yip and dances forward. He leans down and licks my hand, wiggling in earnest now.
I seize the opportunity to scoop my hands under the wiry little body, and the dog doesn’t resist. “Oh my. Yes, you are a boy, aren’t you?”
“For another day or so, anyway,” Dax say. “There’s a strict Helping Paws policy on spaying and neutering every pet that comes through the doors.”
Deathmetal pricks his ears and gives another soft yip, and I stroke my hand over his ears. “Don’t listen to him,” I soothe. “I’m sure he’s just teasing you. And even if he’s not, I promise all the lady dogs will appreciate a man who has contraception covered.”
The dog licks my hand again as I carry him toward the bank of tubs on the opposite wall. Dax moves beside me, rubber apron straining over his huge chest. “You’ve seriously never had a dog before?” he asks.
“Nope.” I take my time lowering Deathmetal into the elevated, stainless steel tub, scratching his ears so he stays relaxed. “Our parents never allowed it. Said they were messy and uncouth.”
“You’ve spent your life avoiding all things messy and uncouth?”
“Something like that.”
He says nothing in response, so I’m not sure why I find myself blushing. I turn my face to the side, concentrating on adjusting the taps to get the water just right. Beside me, Dax squeezes dog shampoo into his oversize palm. After doing this all morning, we’ve got our system down. Still, his presence affects me, the way he stands close enough that I can feel the heat from his body.
“There you go, baby,” I say to the dog as Dax begins massaging suds into the curly black fur. The dog stiffens at first, but I keep a gentle hold on him. Soon, Deathmetal relaxes, giving in to the soft pressure of Dax’s hands engulfing his small frame.
“There’s a spot right here,” I murmur, directing Dax’s hand to a patch of burr-matted fur under the dog’s chin. His fingers brush mine as he begins to work the knot with gentle, powerful movements.
“That’s a good pup.” He leans closer, his breath grazing my ear as he reaches across me for the detangling cream. His bicep brushes the edge of my breast, and I remind myself this is the least-sexy activity imaginable.
“Feels good, huh?” he murmurs as he works the detangler into the matted fur.
I nod on Deathmetal’s behalf as the little dog thumps his tail in agreement. I scoot the wiry body to the side to give Dax better access to the pup’s soft underbelly. He reaches across me again, this time grabbing for the handheld nozzle. I lean back against his chest, telling myself I’m only making room for him to position the spray just right. That I’m not just a hussy who can’t get enough physical contact with this man.
He aims the nozzle at Deathmetal, splashing blissfully warm water over the backs of my hands. “You like that, hmm?”
Deathmetal gives a satisfied sigh, and I swallow hard and focus on turning the dog around, angling the little wet body up so Dax can rinse him off.
“Almost done, sweetie.” My voice cracks a little, and I wonder if Dax has any idea how much his nearness is affecting me. “You’re such a good, good puppy. Just a few more seconds.”
Dax leans past me again to set the hose aside, and I shiver, curious if he’s doing this on purpose.
But no, he’s just hanging up the hose, going through the motions of dog grooming. He grabs a fluffy gray towel from a pile beside the tub and turns to me with a conspiratorial grin that makes my toes curl. “Want to see a trick for getting a dog to shake off so you don’t have to do so much toweling?”
“You just now thought of this?” I spit out a hunk of my hair, determined to cover my discombobulation with a hoity air. “Instead of twenty dogs ago, maybe?”
He grins. “Something reminded me just now.”
Then he leans past me, bending low so one meaty bicep brushes my hand. He’s eye level with Deathmetal now, and he uses one massive finger to gently lift the edge of the dog’s ear.
“Just like this,” Dax says. Then he purses his lips and blows gently into the dog’s ear. Deathmetal twitches into a full- body shake that sends tepid water spattering against the sides of the tub and the front of my apron.
Dax grins and stands up again. “Good boy!”
