I adjusted my jacket, smoothed down my skirt. “What are your plans now?”
He shrugged. “Carry on like before. What’s it to you?”
“How are you going to take care of her?”
He frowned. “Same as always. We stick together, me and her.”
I folded my arms. “If you care about the dog, you’ll let me take her for rehoming.”
“I’m her home,” he spat. “Ain’t no one gonna be taking her anywhere.”
“How are you going to feed her?”
“We’ll get by.”
“So, you expect me to rescue her from one bad home, and deliver her straight into another?”
“I don’t expect shit.”
“I think I should take her,” I said, irritation making me brave.
He got to his feet, stepping forward with menace. “You can fucking try.”
“You wanted the dog to be safe. I rescued her from the Scotts, and now she needs a proper home...”
“She’s got a home, with me.”
My senses reeled, neck bristling in fear, but still I couldn’t shut it. “What about vet bills? Vaccinations?”
“I’ll fucking manage.”
“And I’m supposed to take your word for it, am I?”
He took another step forward, and I fought the urge to back away. “I’m good for my word.”
“I should call it in, for the dog’s sake.”
His eyes were fierce. “Don’t push it, estate manager. You don’t know me.”
Stand-off. I held firm until my adrenaline ebbed, fading away into nothing but jitters. “I just risked my job for that dog, and for what? So you can drag her back to life on the streets without even a thank you?”
“What you after? A fucking medal?” He stared at me, shifting from one foot to the other. My cheeks burned under his scrutiny. “What do you mean you risked your job?”
“I didn’t follow procedure.”
He dropped his eyes to the floor. “Don’t normally have much to say thanks for. Not used to it.”
“Is that your way of apologising?”
He shrugged. “Not much good with sorry.”
“Nor with a decent thank you, seemingly.”
He looked beyond me, to the buildings in the distance. “If you call the pigs I’ll run, they’ll never find us.”
“So, why aren’t you running?”
“Dunno,” he said. “Maybe I don’t think you’ll call the pigs.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“You know she’s better off with me. Else you wouldn’t have rescued her.”
“I did it for the dog,” I maintained. “Nothing to do with you.”
Liar. What the hell was I doing?
“Casey wants to be with me.”
“She’s a dog, she doesn’t know what’s best for her.”
“She knows what love is. She knows better than most people.”
My phone started buzzing. Office calling. Real life fucking calling. “Shit,” I said. “I’ve got to take this.”
He paced forward, and this time I did retreat, stepping backwards until I was cornered. He loomed over me, just like earlier, but this time he was so close I could feel the heat. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will. Don’t think I won’t.”
I breathed in his breath, skin on fire. Dangerous. I was alone, out of my depth, threatened by someone with no limits, no restraint, no fucking safe word. His eyes weren’t playing, no humanity staring back at me, not this time. I shifted against him, fighting the familiar thrill of being pinned.
“Go,” I said. “I’m done here.”
He released me in a flash, grabbing his holdall and walking away without a backwards glance. Casey followed, bounding along at his side like a different animal. Maybe he was right, maybe she did belong with him.
My phone was still ringing. I stared at the office number but it seemed so far away. Far away in a world of conformity and procedures and health and safety. I wasn’t ready to go back there, not yet.
“Wait!” I called.
He didn’t respond, didn’t even slow down. I had to run after him, grabbing at his elbow without thinking. The savage spun on his heels, wild, ready to attack until he registered it was me. His fist paused mid-air. I put an arm up to block him.
“Thought you were Jones,” he muttered. “What now?”
I don’t fucking know. “The dog... I’ll want to check up on her.”
“Check up on her?” he growled. “What does that mean?”
“Just to know she’s ok,” I said. “I’ll need your phone number.”
“Ain’t got one.”