Looking at us, his gaze held more challenge than interest. "So, uh, you volunteering?"
I couldn't help it. I swallowed as I craned my neck to look up at him. Then, as if my eyes had a mind of their own, my gaze travelled slowly downward, pausing too long to be decent at the half-way point, and ending at his feet. He wore old-fashioned red tennis shoes, no laces.
I looked up to meet his gaze. His mouth was tight, and I had the distinct impression that my comment hadn't been appreciated. Something about his expression made me look down, studying the sidewalk while I tried to think of a snappy comeback.
"Yeah," he said. "I own shoes. Surprised?"
By habit, I went immediately into upscale, polite mode. "No. Of course not," I said. It wasn't exactly true, but it did seem like the sort of thing someone who actually lived in this neighborhood might say.
I glanced at Erika. She was looking from Lawton to me. Finally, she gave Lawton a tentative wave. "Hi. I'm Erika, and you are –?"
Oh. My. God. She wasn't seriously doing the whole, I-have-no-idea-who-you-are routine.
He paused a beat, glancing at Erika and then at me. "Just the neighbor guy."
Before she could respond, he stepped around us and kept on walking. That's when Chucky chose to start yapping his fool head off, straining at the leash as he lunged toward Lawton's receding back.
I bent down to ruffle his fur, whispering, "Why couldn’t have you done that five minutes ago?"
Chucky gave a single bark.
I gave him a stern look. "Remember," I told him, "you're supposed to barkbeforesomeone sneaks up on us. Got it?"
I glanced up at Erika. She burst out laughing.
"It's not funny," I said.
"Yes," she laughed. "Actually it is."
I felt my own lips tug up at the corners. "Fine," I said. "Maybe just a little."
Chapter 5
"Chucky! You come back here!"
For a little dog, he sure moved fast. He was also smart, a lot smarter than I'd given him credit for. The instant I cracked open the back door to take out the garbage, he shot past my legs like a furry land-rocket.
As I watched, he dodged a lounge chair, sideswiped a potted plant, and leapt off the raised brick patio, running full speed ahead toward the shrubbery-lined iron fence that ran along the back property line.
It was a cold, drizzly night, and the entire backyard was cast in shadows. I groaned in frustration. "Chucky!" I dropped the trash bag and plunged after him. "You come back here this instant!"
For a moment, I thought he might actually obey, because he appeared suddenly out of the shadows, skidding to a stop just a few feet from my legs. But the instant I reached for him, he gave a playful yip and swerved away, continuing full speed ahead on his original path.
"That's not funny!" I yelled, chasing after him in my unlaced tennis shoes. I hadn't planned on going for a run and certainly hadn't planned on playing tag with some furry prankster. Isowasn't prepared for this.
For one thing, I wasn't dressed for it. Aside from the tennis shoes, I was wearing my favorite ratty T-shirt and black sleeping shorts, no coat, no socks. The drizzle seeped into my thin T-shirt and made the already cold night seem absolutely freezing.
By the time I reached the fence, Chucky was nowhere in sight.
And that's when I noticed it. The smell of someone grilling. It smelled like burgers, or maybe steak. No wonder Chucky had taken off so fast. Even to me, it smelled mouth-watering, and it wasn't like red meat was my favorite.
I leaned my forehead between two fence spires and peered into the shadows. The foliage was thick on the other side, so I couldn't see much, only the barest glimmer of light somewhere up in the distance.
And then, from somewhere near the glimmer, I heard it, that same playful yip, followed by the muted sounds of deep male laughter.
In high school, I hated geometry. It wasn't that I hated math in general. I loved algebra, and actually ended up majoring in accounting. Still, geometry remained my major source of irritation. For one thing, the story problems drove me nuts. I didn't see the point to them, just a bunch of made up stuff that would never apply in the real world.
Until now. Because considering this real-life story problem in my head, it didn't take me long to grasp the implications of that yip and laugh. When it comes to destinations, a long stroll by sidewalk equals a short run by dog, at least when you ignore little things like iron fences.
