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Shock makes her body jolt, my protective instinct kicking in just as Butter pulls hard on the leash, picking up on our emotional subtext.
I hit a nerve.
What kind of nerve, though?
“Hello,” says a stout woman with short brown hair and big, red-rimmed glasses. “I’m Joan, and welcome to day one of our beginner’s class. Please set your dogs down if they’re not already on the ground, and let’s get started.”
Paigelynn takes Winnie out of Rudy’s arms, puts her on the ground, holds the leash, and looks at me with a sidelong glance that makes me want to grab her and run away. I pull out my phone. We signed a form saying we wouldn’t take pictures during class, but rules are made to be broken.
And guys like Rudy are begging to be investigated.
As I pretend to take a picture of my own dog, I tilt the phone just so, snapping photos in Paigelynn’s direction, hoping I get a decent one. Rudy’s on my screen as I press and hold, scores of photos queueing up.
As I expected, Rudy barks out, “No pictures!”
“Sorry!” I hold my hands up defensively. If they can act, so can I. “I forgot! Butter just looked so cute. I share him with my mom, and she wanted a ‘First Day of School’ picture to go on the wall with mine from kindergarten.” I turn my phone off, exaggerating the movements to make it clear I’m powering down.
Everyone but Rudy laughs, though Paigelynn studies me more carefully than I’d expect. These two are on high alert for lies.
Are they professionals? What have I stepped into here?
She, too, reads people. But when she stares at me, my blood races and my cock yearns for her.
Slipping the phone in my back pocket, I play it cool, knowing that acting like a normie is more important than anything else. If Rudy’s halfway decent at whatever he does, his radar is pinging, too.
I’m a desk jockey now.
Time doesn’t erase those skills, though.
Especially after what happened to me as a kid.
Rudy gives Paigelynn a smile and takes her hand, their palms cupping each other. No finger threading in this hand holding, which really makes me wonder. Intimate couples generally link fingers.
How much of this relationship is for show?
“First dog together?” I ask Rudy, who frowns and looks at Paigelynn. Deferring to authority like that isn’t in his nature.
New data.
Who in the hell is Paigelynn really?
Some piece of me inside groans. My regular work is hard enough. All I wanted was a simple dog obedience class for Butter. A half hour twice a week where I could disengage and unwind.
Now I have a new mystery in my head. My mind won’t let this one go.
Cock, either.
“Second, actually. We lost our last dog, and, uh, now we have Winnie. She barks at strange men,” Paigelynn says in a voice that’s just scripted enough to make me notice.
“And she won’t listen to me,” Rudy says with a brooding look.
“That’s because you’re mean to her, silly.”
“Mean?” asks the gray-haired woman from the couple on the other side of Rudy and Paigelynn. “Who could be mean to that sweet little girl?”
“Introductions!” the teacher calls out, and everyone pays attention, Rudy bending down to pet Winnie, who goes down on her tiny haunches and sits, obedient. This pleases Rudy, who gives Paigelynn a smug grin.
They both laugh as he stands, moving back to her, his arm slipping around her waist, her head tipping against his shoulder. As he turns his neck, he looks at me, eyes blazing.
