She laughed.
He lifted his head and continued on, reaching her porch. Then he barked. Once.
She blinked. This was a little nutty. Catching her breath, she looked outside in every direction. Nothing. The two houses were located at the end of a cul-de-sac, across from forested land. The nearest house was more than twenty miles down the quiet road.
The dog barked again.
Okay. A normal person wouldn’t just go and open her door to a barking German shepherd. She pushed herself off the comfortable denim sofa and turned for the door. Since when had she been normal?
It took several seconds to disengage the multiple locks, and then she opened the door, keeping a tight grip on the edge in case she needed to slam it shut. “Um, hello.”
The dog remained sitting and cocked his head to the side.
She knew better than to crouch and put her face close to his teeth. So she held out a hand.
He moved forward, sniffed her hand, and then gave it a giant lick. A slight whine escaped him, and he pushed toward her, trying to lick all her fingers up to the wrist.
She laughed and shoved him back. Apparently, she hadn’t wiped the sugar from the pie off her hand.
“Roscoe!” A sharp voice snapped from the other porch.
She yelped, and the dog sprang into action, his shoulders striking her knees. He turned and bounded back toward the truck, leaping smoothly through the open window. She teetered and then fell flat on her butt. For the second time that day.
The neighbor and his visitor both visibly blanched from across the way.
“Damn.” Her new neighbor cleared the shrubs in one leap, striding toward her, his chin down. When had they come outside? “Lady, I’m sorry.” He reached her in seconds, holding out a hand large enough to wrap around her entire neck. He was so . . . big.
She couldn’t breathe. Her hands remained frozen on the porch.
He studied her with those startling green eyes and then dropped to his haunches so they were eye to eye. “You’re all right.” His voice, dark and deep and rumbly, was somehow soothing. And he smelled ... good. Masculine and foresty. “Did the dog frighten you?” He turned his head to look over his shoulder at his friend. The man was standing at the driver’s door of his truck, watching them.
“No,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
Her neighbor turned back, his full focus on her again. “Did I?”
She swallowed. Considering she was trembling, she’d look even more like a moron if she lied. “No.” What the heck. Lie anyway.
His lips twitched and he almost grinned. The slight action lightened his eyes enough to make them even more fascinating.
The guy at the truck opened his door, shoved the dog to the other side, and jumped in. “I’ll be in touch, West,” he called out, igniting the engine and whipping around in the street. He reached the edge of Pippa’s drive and rolled down the dog’s window. The dog seemed to be smiling somehow. “Remember what I said.”
The neighbor called West didn’t look at the other guy again. “I said no,” he said, loud enough for his voice to carry. “Don’t come back.” The darkness in his tone was backed up by the clear threat.
Pippa’s eyes widened. So . . . not friends. Any words she might have had dried up in her throat.
The truck sped off.
West watched her for two seconds and then seemed to make a decision. He dropped from his haunches to his butt on her porch, wincing as he forced his jean-clad legs into a crossed position. “You’re scared, and I’m trying not to tower over you, but you’re a little thing, aren’t you?”
Even sitting, he did tower. But there was a sweetness in his actions that had her shoulders slowly relaxing. “Are you hurt?” She found her voice again.
His dark eyebrows lifted. “Left thigh. Injury that’s getting better.”
Okay. Time to stop being such a wimp. If he could act normal just sitting on the hard planks of her front porch, so could she. She held out her hand. “Pippa Smith.”
His arm lifted slowly, as if he was trying really hard not to spook her. “Malcolm West.”
The second his hand enfolded hers, warmth and a jolt of awareness shot up her arm. Her breath caught again, and this time fear had nothing to do with it. She was acting like some Victorian damsel meeting a man for the first time. “I’m not a virgin or anything,” she blurted out.
