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“Um. Hello,” I greet him with a touch of caution.
He flops onto his back, tail wagging furiously, and the corner of my mouth quirks.
“Oh, I see. You justlookscary. Isn’t that right, you big softy?”
His butt wiggles excitedly when I bend to pat his belly. Gray hairs are sprinkled throughout the fur covering his chin and the wrinkles around his eyes.
The woman who was chasing him clomps up the steps, then rounds the side of the house, and plants her palms on her knees. “Damn you, dog.”
“He’s not bothering me,” I assure her.
The brunette’s smile is brighter than the morning sun. Her tattered flannel hangs off one shoulder and her jeans are smeared with dirt.
“Give it a couple of days. You’ll be wishing you never scratched that belly.”
She straightens to nudge Jango’s rear, and like a turtle on its back, he awkwardly rolls over to standing before showering my legs in dribbles of drool with a shake of his head.
Standing about the same five-foot-five height as me, I’m face to face with a pair of amber-brown eyes and a freckled nose.
“Name’s Penelope,” the woman offers. “Are you Barbara?”
At my instant confusion, she adds, “Sorry to assume. That was the name I saw on the reservation.”
“Heather.” I quickly give her hand a shake, cursing myself for using my real name—like a fucking rookie—and not giving an alias as Alice must have. “Barb’s just a friend.”
Dear god, please stop talking.
“Well, you’re going to love Augustine.” She motions to my robe and messy bun. “Sorry we interrupted you.”
Tightening the plush belt around my middle, I wave a hand. “No worries. I was just enjoying the view.”
Penelope nods toward my laptop. “You’re a writer.”
I double-check that it’s still closed before asking, “What gave me away?”
“Coffee, legal pad, laptop. I know a wordsmith survival kit when I see one.”
Huh. I think I might like this chick.
“Sort of.” I scramble for a plausible occupation as I gather my things. Alice didn’t prepare me forpeople. “I’m a… travel blogger. Blogging and traveling. That’s what I do.”
With a smirk, Penelope picks up my camera, turning it this way and that. “Fancy.”
I steel my panic before promptly reaching for it with sweating palms. “I’m not a big deal or anything, it’s more of a hobby.”
Five minutes. That’s how long we’ve been talking and already, I’ve given up my real name and let a stranger touch my camera.
Penelope steps around me to yank on the screen door handle and I follow her inside. Jango makes himself comfortable on a worn spot on the floor while I drop my equipment in a pile on the breakfast table.
“Do you own this place?” I ask.
With a small kitchen and dining nook which opens to the living room, and an upstairs loft, the space is more than enough for two to live comfortably.
“Actually, we’re on my father’s ranch. I’m just helping with the rental while I’m in town.”
I arch a brow, nosing for information like it’s second nature. “Ah. He must be the one in the fancy house on the hill.”
“This is my mother’s getaway spot for when she and Dad are here,” she says, avoiding my question and fiddling with a statue of a naked woman on the shelf behind the couch. “She likes to rent out her ‘woman cave,’ as she calls it, whenever they’re traveling.”
