“Wherever you go? Just in case you find a stray dog?”
“Aye,” he says calmly, as if it’s totally normal.
I gesture to the other dog. “What about that one?”
He glances at the scruffy mutt now standing beside the leashed pit bull. He hands both dogs more jerky and they take it, eager and wary at the same time. “This one will follow the alpha.”
“Aren’t you the alpha?” I ask.
“I will be by the time the night is over.”
God, he can alpha me anytime he wants. Even with the dogs here now, I’m having a hard time forgetting that just moments ago my lips were locked with his and I was lost in all he was giving me. I need more of it. That kiss can’t be it.
But now he’s preoccupied. A cold, wet breeze laced with fog washes over me and I fold my arms across my chest. “The fog is rolling in again.”
“We’ll get going,” he says.
“Where? To the pound?”
“Fuck no,” he says sharply. “These dogs will be put down in a few days if I do that.”
I obviously have a lot to learn about all of this. “Really, why?”
“Because the pound is overwhelmed with dogs, as are most shelters in any given city. There just isn’t any room for them, and these two are shy. Being a pit doesn’t help either. They won’t get adopted. They won’t get rehomed. They’ll be killed.”
I swallow uneasily. “That’s horrible. I’m sorry, I had no idea.”
“Most people don’t,” he says, staring down at the dogs. “So I’m taking them home.”
“Home? To Scotland?”
“I’ll take them to my flat here first and try to find homes for them this week. If I can’t, they’ll fly back with me.”
Jesus. I’m floored by the size of this man’s heart.
“Who are you?” I can’t help but whisper.
“Just a man,” he replies. “Come on.”
He turns and walks off through the darkness, the pit bull pulling on the belt but reluctantly following, limping as he goes. The scruffy dog is right on his tail.
“Is he going to be okay?” I ask.
Lachlan eyes the dog. “Seems minor. I’ll get him to a vet tomorrow.”
I walk beside Lachlan on the other side, careful not to vibe out the dogs since they seem so taken with him. Hell, I can’t blame them. I’d also follow him anywhere, whether he had food or not. I mean, I guess I did just that when he ran off into the forest.
He keeps talking to them in his low voice, and my brain is going wild. It’s hard to know what time it is or even what direction we’re going along the path now. I wonder how the hell he’s going to get home, let alone me. I wonder if I should bring up the fact that we made out, just in case he’s already forgotten. Cuz I sure as hell have not.
Finally we see the trees thin out and the rise of buildings and lights. The road, Lincoln Way, cuts along the edge of the park, and there are still a handful of concertgoers straggling along the sidewalk.
“This seems busy enough,” Lachlan says as we come to a stop a few yards from the road. “You can hail a cab from here. Do you need any money?”
I stare at him blankly. “No. Where are you going?”
He gestures with his head down the street, where it disappears into the heart of the city. “Cabs don’t let you take dogs.”
“An Uber might.”
He raises his brow. “This Uber thing, you need a phone for that, aye?”
“So you’re just going to walk?” I ask, incredulous. “That’s like miles and miles from here. That’s the whole freaking city. It will take hours.”
He shrugs. “That’s fine. Will give me time to get to know the dogs better. If the pit’s leg gets worse, I’ll carry him. If he lets me.”
I know I’m staring at him like he’s crazy, but I can’t help it. “It’s not safe to walk the streets this late at night,” I tell him.
He rubs at his beard and gives me a small smile. “Listen, love, I can handle it.” He gazes down at the dogs. “Plus, I have a pit bull now. I’m sure I’ll be given a wide berth.”
The fact is, anyone looking for trouble would give him a wide berth anyway. Those mountainous traps and shoulders, those hard, wild eyes, they warn everyone to stay away.
Everyone but me.
“I’ll go with you,” I tell him.
He shakes his head. “You just said yourself that it’s a long walk.”
I cross my arms and attempt a commanding stance. “That’s true, but you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
In the distance, a siren wails. Lachlan looks off, chewing on his lower lip, that lip I’d give anything to chew on again. Finally his eyes slide to mine, amused and kind. “All right,” he says. “If that’s what you want.”
“Yup.”
“You really are something aren’t you?” He takes a step closer to me. “Stubborn as shit.”
I grin at him and my grin widens when he reaches out and grabs my hand, giving it a squeeze.
“Shall we?” he asks.
I squeeze right back, my palm pressed against his, skin on skin, electricity buzzing up my arm. I don’t know when I of all people started finding kissing and hand-holding to be insanely erotic, but I did. All because of him.
Hand in hand, we head off across the city.
I talk the entire time.
About my mother.
My brothers.
My father.
My ex-fiancé.
My job.
He listens intently to every single word that comes out of my mouth. It’s an amazing feeling to actually be heard. More than that, he seems to understand.
We pass sketchy characters, but all Lachlan has to do is look at them and they shrink away. We pass parks where he spots other stray dogs, and it breaks his heart—and mine—that he can’t save them all. We walk through blocks and blocks of harsh city life, and Lachlan seems more at ease than ever. He’s alert but comfortable, even as we pass the fringes of the dangerous Tenderloin district. And I never feel unsafe.
The dogs stay by our side the whole time, with Lachlan feeding them from another packet of beef jerky that I ran into a 7-11 to get. They seem more comfortable, and Lachlan tells me that he can tell they both had homes at one point, which will make it easier for them to get adopted.
When we get to his apartment building, my feet are burning and the sky seems to be growing lighter in the east, and I hope it’s a trick of my eyes because I still have to go to work when day breaks.
I hope the dawn never comes.
I want the night to go on forever.
It’s a bit of a struggle to get the scruffy dog inside, especially as we’re trying not to attract attention to ourselves—Lachlan’s not sure about the building’s pet policy. Finally he takes off his Henley shirt and wraps one of the long sleeves around the dog’s neck until we get him in the door.
At least I think that’s what he does because I’m staring at his shirtless body with my mouth open. I don’t even have the decency to look away. I’m tired and sleep-deprived and sore, and the sight of all those muscles, all those tattoos, lifts me up like a tonic.
But if Lachlan can tell I’m staring deliriously at him, he doesn’t show it. We eventually get up the elevator, the dogs freaking out now, and into his apartment. He immediately gets a bowl of water for them while they wander around the place sniffing everything. He puts his shirt back on—dammit—and starts rummaging through his kitchen.
“Can I help with anything?” I ask him.
He shakes his head and takes some raw ground beef out of the fridge. “It’s lucky I eat a lot of protein,” he says, putting the meat into two bowls and setting them down. “This should do.”
The dogs sniff it warily then launch into it, devouring it quickly.
I watch Lachlan as he stares down at them, arms folded across his wide chest, a quiet smile on his lips. His eyes are lit up, the corners of them crinkling slightly. The way he looks at the dogs is completely different from the way he looks at anyone else, myself included. There’s real love there.
That’s a look I’d die to have.