Trust: Not Until You, Part 4. Roni Loren

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      “Well, the sign does say open to the public,” he said with a good-natured smirk.

      “Right.” Seeing Pike standing in the waiting area of my job had my worlds banging together—the crazy mixing with the mundane. It seemed a dangerous mix, like coming face-to-face with yourself in time travel. That shit never ended well.

      In my peripheral vision, I could see Bailey turning forward to see our new guest. Pike seemed to notice her for the first time and sent her a tip of an imaginary hat before turning back to me. “So, I’m here because I’m thinking you were right.”

      “I was right?” I shook my head, trying to clear it. “About …”

      He grinned. “That I should get a dog.”

      The gears in my head ground to a halt. “Wait, you’re here for a dog?”

      “Um, excuse me,” Bailey interrupted as she rolled her chair closer to me. I turned to find her staring up at Pike with stars in her eyes. “You said your name is Pike?”

      He glanced her way. “It is.”

      Bailey’s hands gripped the arms of her chair. “Are you, like, the Pike? From Darkfall?”

      Pike leaned his forearms on the counter and graced Bailey with a smile so panty melting it should be outlawed. “I am.”

      Bailey’s gasp was audible. She sent me a look with a capital L, apparently registering that Pike and I already knew each other. Then her mouth dropped open. Her eyes said Him? He’s the guy?!

      I cleared my throat and stood before my dear friend had an aneurism. “That’s great, Pike. We’ve definitely got a lot of dogs looking for homes here. Why don’t we go in the back, and I can walk you through the kennels so we can get an idea what you’re looking for?”

      “Sounds good, doc.” His gaze slid away from Bailey and alighted on me—all good humor and mischief. No doubt he was fully enjoying Bailey’s bedazzled reaction. Like a vampire who fed on blood, he fed on making girls go giddy and tongue-tied. “Lead the way.”

      “Come on.” I left a gaping Bailey behind us and stepped around the front counter to lead Pike toward a door opposite from the one Dr. Pelham had gone through. As soon I pushed through, the cacophonous chorus and the telltale scent of doggy-ness greeted us, instantly soothing me. This was my territory and Pike was a friend, no need to freak out just because we’d seen each other naked. “So you know Bailey is now texting everyone she’s ever met telling her she just met you, right? And probably that she’s going to marry you and have your rockstar babies.”

      Pike laughed. “Yeah, I got that.”

      We walked down the hallway toward the main adoption area. “Just another day at the office for ya, huh? Girls falling at your feet.”

      He lifted an eyebrow and tucked his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “You know, doc, I’d make a cat sound right now and poke at you about being jealous. But you’ve been at my feet, and I know you aren’t all that interested in returning there.”

      I choked on my gasp and peered over my shoulder at the empty hallway. “Pike.”

      “Don’t worry, doc. No one’s in here with us. I was just trying to get the potential awkwardness out of the way.”

      We reached the end of the corridor, and I pressed my back to the door we were about to go through to face him. “I’m sorry, I just don’t know how to do this. I’ve never been in this kind of situation before.”

      He smiled, good-natured as always. “Not that complicated. We fooled around. We both enjoyed it. Thoroughly, I might add. But you’ve got the hots for my best friend.”

      “I—”

      “Plus, if I even thought about making another move on you, Foster would stab me with one of my own drumsticks.”

      I blinked, the words not computing for a moment, then I turned back toward the door to yank it open. “Yeah, well, Foster told me good-bye.”

      Pike sighed and laid an arm across my shoulders as we both stepped into the adoption area together. “He had to, gorgeous. Doesn’t mean he wanted to.”

      I couldn’t even respond to that. At the mention of Foster, everything crappy about my day came rushing back, and my mood plummeted. I slipped out from beneath Pike’s arm as soon as we got to the first row of kennels. The smell of his cologne was only reminding me of that first night with the two of them. Something I definitely did not need to think about right now. I switched into professional mode, my spiel robotic. “These first two rows have your smaller dogs—terriers, toy breeds, et cetera. Over in the back to the right are the bigger dogs. There are a number of purebreds, but the majority of what you’ll see are mixed breeds. If you prefer a puppy, we have a litter of Lab/shepherd mix that will be ready to adopt out in about a week.”

      Pike crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “No puppies. Those are the easiest to adopt out, aren’t they?”

      I shrugged. “Families can’t resist them. Cute. Clean slate with no previous trauma to worry about.”

      “And which ones are hardest to adopt?”

      I cocked my head toward the back-left corner. “Row five. Those are the dogs that have been here longer than any others or have been returned after an unsuccessful adoption.”

      He headed that way without another word. I had to hurry to catch up and keep pace with his purposeful stride. I heard myself warning him that these dogs were great but had issues and maybe were better for experienced dog owners, but I don’t think Pike even heard me. After only a few minutes of scanning the kennels and coaxing the occupants within, he zeroed in on Monty, a brown-and-black dachshund/schnauzer mix that had been cussed at by more staff than any other pet in there. Pike leaned forward to slip his finger inside the gated front, but Monty backed into the corner, barking like he was on fire. “What’s this guy’s story?”

      “Monty’s been returned twice. Once for snapping at a little girl and another for being resistant to any kind of training.” I sidled up next to Pike and frowned down at the deceptively cute occupant. Monty had the body of a dachshund, but longer legs, and the face and wiry hair of a schnauzer. But his cuteness had been his downfall. All the young families were drawn to him, but he was easily overwhelmed by the chaos of children. “He was a rescue dog. We suspect the original owner dealt with Monty’s feistiness by abusing him or outright neglecting him. He came in with a broken rib, internal bleeding, and barely any meat on his bones.”

      “Fuck,” Pike said, moving his hand away but keeping his focus on Monty. “And been brought back twice. No wonder he’s snarling at me. I’d have trust issues, too.”

      “He’s a bit of a project,” I agreed.

      “I want him,” Pike declared, turning to me.

      “Pike, I don’t know, this isn’t exactly a job for an inexperienced owner. Maybe you …”

      “Doc, this dog has issues with authority, is still feisty even after being treated like shit early in his life, and has spiky hair. Monty is made for me.”

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