Brown-Eyed Girl (Travises 4)

“See if you can get them perked up and facing forward.”

I held Coco in different poses, calling her a sweetheart, an angel, a sugar-pie, saying if she behaved, I would give her all the treats she wanted. “Are her ears perked up now?” I asked.

His mouth twitched. “Mine sure as hell are.” Lowering to his haunches, he took multiple shots, the camera shutter clicking nonstop.

“Do you think someone will adopt her?”

“I hope so. It’s not easy to get someone to take a senior dog. Not much time left, and health problems on the horizon.”

Coco looked up at me with shining eyes and a gummy grin. I felt a sinking sensation as I thought of what would probably happen to this vulnerable, not-pretty creature.

“If life were simpler…,” I heard myself say, “if I were another kind of person… I’d take her home with me.”

The shutter clicks stopped. “Do you want to?”

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t.” I was surprised by the plangent sound of my own voice.

“That’s okay.”

“I have no experience with pets.”

“I understand.”

I held Coco up and looked at her. She regarded me earnestly with that little-old-lady face, paws dangling, tail wagging in midair. “You have too many problems,” I told her.

Joe approached, looking amused. “You don’t have to take her.”

“I know. It’s just…” I let out a tight, disbelieving laugh. “Somehow I can’t stand the idea of walking away from her.”

“Leave her here and think about it overnight,” Joe said. “You can always come back tomorrow.”

“If I don’t take her now, I won’t come back.” I held her in my lap, smoothing her fur, wondering what to do. She curled up into a little donut and closed her eyes.

Joe sat next to me, sliding an arm around my shoulders. He stayed silent, letting me think it through.

“Joe?” I asked after a couple of minutes.

“Mmm-hmm?”

“Can you give me a practical reason for taking this dog home with me? Anything at all? Because she’s not big enough to protect me, and I don’t need her as a service dog or to herd sheep. So give me a reason. Please.”

“I’ll give you three. One, a dog will give you unconditional love. Two, having a dog reduces stress. Three…” His arm slid away, and he turned my face toward his, his thumb stroking the edge of my jaw. He looked into my eyes and smiled. “Hell, do it because you want to,” he said.

On the way back home, we stopped at a pet store for some basic supplies. Along with the basics, I bought a tote with mesh panels on the sides and a soft padded interior. As soon as I put Coco inside, she poked her head through an opening at the top and looked around. I was now a woman with a purse-dog, except that instead of a fluffy Pomeranian or a teacup poodle, mine was a toothless Chihuahua.

The studio was empty and silent when we arrived. Joe carried my purchases in from the car, including a pet crate and a case of premium canned dog food. I arranged a foam mat and a soft blanket in the crate. Coco crawled in eagerly.

“I’d like to give her a bath,” I said, “but she’s had enough excitement for now. I’ll let her adjust to her new surroundings.”

Joe set the dog food on the counter. “You sound like an expert already.”

“Ha.” I began to stack cans in the pantry. “Sofia’s going to kill me. I should have asked her before doing this. Except that she would have said no, and I would have brought Coco home anyway.”

“Tell her I pressured you.”

“No, she knows I wouldn’t do this unless it was something I really wanted. But thanks for offering to take the rap.”

“Anytime.” Joe paused. “I’ll head out now.”

I turned to face him, my nerves humming with anticipation as he approached. “Thanks for lunch,” I said.

His warm gaze swept over me. “Thanks for helping at the shelter.” He reached around me, bringing me against a wealth of hard muscle. My hands crept up his back. The clean, earthy scent of him was becoming familiar, and it was a thousand times better than cologne. Finishing the hug, he let go.

“Bye, Avery,” he said huskily.

I watched with wide eyes as he headed to the door. “Joe…”

He paused with his hand on the knob, glancing over his shoulder.

“Aren’t you…” I blushed before continuing, “Aren’t you going to kiss me?”

A slow grin crossed his face. “Nope.” And he left, closing the door gently behind him.

While I stared at the door with astonished indignation, Coco ventured cautiously out of her crate.

“What is this?” I asked aloud, pacing in a tight circle. “He takes me out for lunch and brings me back with a secondhand Chihuahua, and on top of that, no kiss good-bye or any mention of when or if he’s going to call… What kind of game is he playing? Was this even a date?”

Coco watched me expectantly.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” I pointed to a corner of the kitchen. “Your bowls are over there.”

She didn’t move.

“Want to watch some TV?” I asked.

Her spindly tail wagged.

After scrolling through channels on the flat-screen TV, I found an episode of a telenovela that Sofia and I had been following. Despite the eye-rolling theatrics and the eighties-style hair and makeup, the story was as addictive as crack. I had to find out how it ended.