“All right.” She stepped forward to leave, unintentionally brushing Holden as he entered.
Damn, he was solid, and her pulse did that stupid hiccup thing again. Ignoring her body, Emily stood between her friends and turned her focus to what was going on inside the kennel.
“It’s okay, Zena,” Lyndsey said next to her. “Holden’s here to help.”
The man didn’t say anything. No soothing words or whispers. Nothing. If fact, he turned his back on the dog and sat down, remaining silent. He didn’t even look at Zena, just inched his way backward, a little at a time, until he hit the back wall.
Emily wasn’t sure what she’d expected but it definitely wasn’t this silent treatment. Frowning, she continued to watch, and after another minute of non-movement from either of them, she wondered if the guy was trying to get the dog to fall asleep.
But then she saw it.
A slight movement in Zena’s brow.
Then Holden slowly reached into his shirt pocket and removed…a piece of chicken?
Whatever it was, he ripped off a small piece and held it in front of the dog. Zena’s nostrils flexed, then the miracle of miracles happened. She lifted her head and took the chicken from Holden’s hand.
Lyndsey’s inhale broke the silence, but luckily it didn’t stop the dog from eating. Emily swallowed past a hot throat and blinked the burning from her eyes as she watched Holden start to place pieces of chicken on the floor, farther and farther away, encouraging Zena to stand. And she did. By the time the chicken was gone, the dog stood in front of Holden in the middle of the kennel, allowing him to pet her.
“Good girl.” He finally spoke in that soothing tone she’d expected earlier.
Zena wagged her little tail and wasn’t the only female to respond. Emily’s stomach fluttered without permission.
When Holden rose to his feet, Zena lifted up to place her front paws on his knee. Smiling, he bent down to scoop up the Chihuahua. “Good girl,” he repeated as he walked toward them.
The sight of the hot guy gently holding the tiny dog in his muscled arms melted a hole in the tough shell surrounding Emily’s heart. At times, that shell was necessary to do her job.
But this was no longer her rescue. It was Lyndsey’s foster case, so Emily let her guard down and smiled as Holden stopped in front of her.
“I get it now, Zena,” she said, waiting while the dog sniffed her before lifting a hand to pet her. “You were holding out for Holden.”
He half chuckled, half groaned. “No, she was waiting for someone to treat her like a dog.”
“A dog?” Mel arched a brow.
Lyndsey frowned. “What do you mean?”
She stepped aside to allow him to exit the kennel.
“It’s simple,” he said, handing the Chihuahua to Lyndsey without the dog protesting.
Emily tried not to be impressed. But she was. Big time.
“What was going through your mind when you tried to get her to eat?” he asked her friend.
Lyndsey shrugged. “That I felt bad that she’d lost her owner, but that she needed to eat.”
Holden nodded. “You humanized her. She’s a dog. They process things differently. Nose. Eyes. Ears. Touch.”
“Ah,” Emily said. “That’s why you didn’t talk or even look at her when you first went in.”
His “silent treatment” was exactly the opposite. It spoke volumes to the dog.
He smiled. “Exactly. I engaged the nose with the chicken. Then made eye contact before I spoke, and finally, I touched her.”
“Brilliant,” Mel said. “Looks like my husband was right about something. You are good with dogs.”
They laughed.
