“Sorry, guys. Never come between a wulf and his granola.” I looked again at my watch. First, home for a shower and to pick up Peter. Then to Josh and Chris’s place, with giant puppy in tow. If I took Peter with me, we’d run tonight on the provincial land behind their property.
I only hoped it would go better this time.
* * *
By the time I pulled up to the house, I wondered at genetic variability and how the mix of characteristics can spit out truly remarkable things. Case in point—the tail of a certain crossbreed I had tied in my back seat. Recent events had given me a new and painful perspective on such things. As the living bullwhip made another attempt at my face, I shielded myself. If there was an evolutionary advantage to a two-foot tail on a dog, I had yet to find it.
It’s like being trapped in a vehicle with a battering ram.
Every living thing we’d passed on the road had precipitated a rear-seat inferno of excitement that began with barking and whirling in circles and ended with the tail cracking me either in the back of the head or across the face. The pup eventually became so entangled in the leash I had fastened—in an attempt to keep him out of my lap—that he couldn’t do the whirling, but the barking and the wagging continued until we stopped the vehicle.
Keen gave me a long-suffering look.
“I’m counting on you to solve this,” I told her as I unfastened her from her safety harness.
Untangling the puppy took more effort as he insisted on washing all the antiseptic off my skin while I wrestled with the leash wrapped around his body and legs. By the time he bounced out of the SUV, I was sure I resembled a chew toy.
As I watched the big animal bounce up to Keen, tripping over his own feet, I noticed the ATV and trailer weren’t parked in their usual spot beneath the lean-to off the barn. Peter often took it into the bush to gather wood. We didn’t rely on it, since we had a combination electric furnace, but he preferred wood heat and spent the summer gathering deadfall, which I chopped up to add to our pile.
Because it had been raining off and on all day, and the spring melt had left many of the trails too boggy for the loaded trailer, I was surprised that Peter would head off on that task today. It also interfered with my plans for the rest of the afternoon. I pulled my phone out of my pocket to call him, hoping he had Chloe’s old unit with him. Eyes on the tiny screen, I walked toward the back of the house.
The pup gamboled between Keen and me. As Keen passed the corner, she took off, her relatively small tail rotating in circles as she greeted someone. I followed her and froze. Peter wasn’t out with the ATV; he was walking across the lawn. Naked.
He’d been running as a wulf in daylight? Even in this remote area, that was risky.
He stopped when the behemoth of a puppy bounded up to him. Keen bounced at Peter’s feet, and the pup took his cue from her. He launched himself toward Peter’s face, tongue prepped for a skin slathering.
I heard the growl from where I stood.
Keen dropped to lie on the ground and the pup melted into a quivering puddle.
“He’s a farm reject,” I said, walking up to them. “He might be good for Josh and Chris.”
Peter looked at me and my heart froze. The look in his eyes—unfocused—almost as though he didn’t know me. He blinked a few times before glancing down at himself. “I . . . must have gone for a run.”
My heart resumed beating, but now at an increased rate. “Where’s the ATV?”
He glanced toward the lean-to and his brows lowered. “I think I took it to get firewood.” His forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Can’t remember. Why would I run during the day? Someone might’ve seen me.”
I struggled to keep my expression calm. “You’re still recovering. The doc said you might experience symptoms.” I did my best to sound reassuring, but I was totally freaked out. “Come inside and get some clothes on.”
“But the ATV—it’s out there, somewhere. I can’t leave it.”
“Don’t worry about the ATV.” No one would take it. There is a certain code country dwellers live by. No messing with a man’s stuff, even if it’s out in the boonies.
“We can’t leave it out there.” Peter grabbed me by the arm, and Keen jumped up and barked, looking from me to him, which the puppy took as an invitation to play, and soon the two were rolling around. By the noises Keen made, she was less than impressed. But she cut him slack for being young and therefore an idiot.
I was grateful the scene distracted Peter, but I was also concerned that his attention could be diverted from retrieving his beloved machine. I guided him toward the deck. “Have a shower and get dressed. I have to take that dog to Josh. You can come with us.”
Peter followed me into the house. Once I had him in the bathroom, I raced to the suite, shutting the door in Keen’s face when she tried to follow me inside.
“You’re on babysitting duty,” I informed her, pushing back ninety pounds of slobbering hound as I closed the door. Keen wouldn’t stray from the yard and the pup would stick with her, at least for as long as it took me to shower.
Tufts of blond hair drifted from my coveralls as I stripped, and I sighed in relief when I stepped into the hot water. As stray bits of hair—along with sweat, mud, antiseptic and dog slobber—washed down the drain, my brain raced. Peter couldn’t remember what he’d done that afternoon. The metaphorical ground crumbled beneath
