How to Howl at the Moon (6 page)

Bill stared at him, horrified. “Lance? Oh my God, are you all right?”

“Do you know this dog?” Tim said anxiously. “I’m so sorry! I was just coming up my driveway and I hit a pothole and suddenly he was right there! I think maybe the front of my truck got him. Please tell me he’ll be okay!”

Lance narrowed his eyes at Bill.
Keep your mouth shut.

“Um…” Bill spluttered.
Wet, clumpy snow built up on
the hood of his anorak as he stared at Lance in confusion. “I meant… Wow, what a
chance
you took
,
handling a strange dog like this. Mr…?”

“I’m Tim. I couldn’t just let him lie here hurt! He keeps holding up his paw.” Tim’s voice was all shaky, and he was petting Lance’s coat compulsively. His hands were warm, which was a little odd. Given how thick Lance’s pelt was, he wouldn’t have expected to feel body heat like that. But then again, he was very cold and wet. “Can you help him, Doctor? Please?”

Dont give me away.
Lance ordered Bill with his eyes.

“Let’s get him inside where it’s warm,” Bill said decisively.

“Is it okay to move him? What if he has internal injuries?”

“Best check.” Bill ran his hands over Lance’s back and hind legs, obviously unsure what he was dealing with and how badly Lance was actually hurt. He glanced into Lance’s eyes, and Lance shook his head a fraction and then held up his left paw with a whine any dog worth his salt—or a human who lived with one, like Bill—would know was fake.

Bill grimaced and took the paw, feeling around it carefully. He gave Lance a disapproving look. “I think it’s fine to move him into the house. And I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough of this
snow
.”

“Okay.” Tim sounded relieved. “He’ll probably feel better where it’s warm.”

Lance limped convincingly to the cabin, whining every time he put weight on his paw.

“Do you have any old towels?” Bill asked when they were all standing, dripping, in the cabin’s living room.

“Yeah, there’s a whole closet of ‘em.” Tim leaned down to look into Lance’s eyes with warm concern and stroked his head. “I’ll be right back, buddy. Okay?”

Lance narrowed his eyes.
Well, duh
.

“He seems really… I dunno… intelligent for a dog,” Tim said with admiration.

“You think so?” Bill said dryly. “I’d have thought it was unaccountably stupid to
run out in front of a truck
, and
way out here
of all places.”

“Maybe he was lost. I need to get him dry.” Tim raced off as if he were going after life-saving plasma or maybe a heart to transplant instead of towels.

Bill squatted down and spoke to Lance in an urgent hush. “What are you doing out here? What happened?”

Lance gave a sharp bark.
I know what I’m doing.

Bill frowned, but he examined Lance’s paw. “Where did he hit you? Your paw doesn’t seem to be swollen.”

Lance did the best doggy eye roll he could summon.

“So you’re not hurt? At
all?” Bill felt around Lance’s paw
. T
he pressure of his touch increased along with his impatience.

Lance panted and sighed.

“Fine. I don’t know what you were doing out here
like this,
but you can ride back to town with me.”

Lance let Bill know what he thought about that idea.

“What happened?” Tim came rushing in with a Chinese laundry’s worth of towels in his arms. He dumped them on the floor and dropped to his knees. “Why’s he barking like that? Is he in pain?”

“No, that’s his imperious bark. He’s telling me a thing or two,” Bill said with a huff.

Bill got to his feet and opened up his medical backpack. “Let’s see. A nice big bandage for that paw, I think.”

“Is he going to be okay? Can I dry him off now? Do you know whose dog this is? I don’t see a collar. What kind of dog is he? He seems friendly enough, don’t you think?”

“Yes. Yes. No. And
no
. I’m not sure what breed he is other than a stubborn one.” Bill always had been a smart ass.

“Sorry. I ask too many questions, huh? Yes, he’s going to be okay? Really?”

“He’s going to be fine. Or as fine as he’s ever been anyway.”

Bill knelt down with a bundle of white gauze in one hand and bright fluorescent pink bandage wrap in the other.
Bastard.

“You don’t think he has any internal bleeding or anything?” Tim insisted worriedly as Bill wrapped up Lance’s paw.

Bill stopped wrapping and looked at Tim, his face softening. He put a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “Hey, Tim. He’s fine. And I’m sure whatever happened was not your fault. Okay? Just breathe.”

Tim did, literally, heaving a deep breath and letting it out. He got a bit of color back into his cheeks. Lance’s guilt reasserted itself. As if making Tim feel wretched wasn’t bad enough, he’d never live this down with Bill.

God, please don’t let him tell my mother.

“You can dry him off now,” Bill said as he finished up the hideous pink sausage. He’d wrapped up Lance’s paw from nail to torso.
Jerk.

Tim all but attacked Lance with the largest, fluffiest towel in the pile. Lance bore it with all the dignity he could muster whilst wearing one pink leg.

“Gah, he’s covered in
mud!”

“He is, isn’t he?” Bill got a glint in his eye that Lance didn’t care for at all. “Why don’t you give him a bath? A warm one. With lots of shampooing.”

Lance growled a warning, which was ignored.

“Could I?” Tim sounded like he’d just been offered a trip to Disneyland.

“I rather think you should,” said Bill seriously.

“What about his bandage?”

“Oh, that wrap is waterproof. It’ll be fine. I wouldn’t soak it, though. See if you can get him to hold it up the entire time.”

Lance’s warning growl deepened.

But Tim looked so hopeful. He gently wiped Lance’s face with the towel. “Did you say earlier that you
do
know him? He’s not wearing a collar. He must belong to someone, though, because he’s in beautiful condition.”

Bill snorted. “I know all the dogs in this area, Tim. And I’m pretty sure this dog belongs to
nobody
.”

Tim looked unabashedly pleased. “If I… if I wanted to keep him. You know, to make up for hitting him and everything, do I need to get a dog license or register somewhere?” There was a hitch of excitement in his voice. “Would you like that, buddy? Would you?”

Bill gave a low chuckle. “You don’t need a license, but I think if you want to keep this one
around, you’ll have to convince
him
of that. Isn’t that right, puppy?” Bill gushed in a most undignified voice and rubbed Lance’s ears.

Lance growled louder this time.

“Hey, be nice!” Tim wrapped a proprietary arm around Lance’s shoulders as if prepared to hold him back. As if he could. “Maybe he smells other dogs on you. That could feel threatening to him.”

Bill snorted. “I’m sure that’s it. Well, that about does it. Remember—long, hot bath. Oh, and I wouldn’t give him anything but water at least until morning if not for twenty-four hours.”

“
Errrr
,” said Lance.

“Ok
ay
, um, what do I owe you?” Tim sounded worried as Bill headed for the door with his backpack. “I mean, I know it’s off-hours and it’s dark and
snow
ing and everything. And I’m so grateful he’s
all right
….”

Don’t take his money
, Lance thought, knowing the guy had very little. If Bill charged him, he’d have to pay the boy back somehow.

“Don’t worry about it. It was on my way home. And it was worth it to be able to see such a nice dog so well cared for.”

“Really? That’s super generous of you.”

Bill opened the door. The
snow was still coming down like wet cotton
. Bill leaned in to speak in Tim’s ear. But Lance’s hearing was very good, and he heard it all the same.

“Be sure to give him lots of hugs and pets. It’ll help him over the shock,” Bill whispered.

Lance could hear him laughing all the way to his car.

A Boy’s Best Friend

LANCE THOUGHT
about
trying to make a break for it. But after all he
’d put Tim Traynor-aka-Weston through, if he didn’t finish the job now, he really would be an utter bastard. He tried refusing to cooperate on the bath thing, but that wasn’t as easy as it sounded.

“Please, buddy? Your coat is all muddy, and that can’t feel good. A nice bath will make you feel so much better.” The soothing-pleading words were accompanied by big, soulful eyes and those ever-present tender strokes of his fur. Lance heaved a sigh. Something about Tim made Lance want to please him. Probably he just felt sorry for the guy. And guilt. Yes, it was definitely guilt.

What did you expect? You’re pretending to be a dog, so you have to
be a dog
. Get over it.

In truth, Lance was disgustingly filthy, thanks to Tim pushing him down in the
cold
mud. But he’d never bathed in dog form, much less let a
human
bathe him. That was just… humiliating. What he wanted was to shift back into his human form and have a nice, long, hot shower. But that wasn’t going to happen if he was going to stick around till Tim fell asleep.

Somehow, Lance found himself being led, limping on his pink leg, into the bathroom. Tim shut the bathroom door. The air in there was hazy with the steam from a bathtub full of hot water.

“I would have added bubble bath, but I was worried it might irritate your skin.” Tim ran his hand through the bath water, testing the temperature. Lance looked at the steamy water and looked at Tim.

Tim made no move to force Lance into the tub. He pulled off his own shirt, tugging the
long-sleeved T-shirt over his head to reveal a thin frame with surprisingly broad shoulders, and then knelt by the tub. Lance looked away, surprised by the way Tim’s naked chest felt too intimate, almost as if he was an attractive woman. Then again, Tim’s skin looked really soft and he did smell awfully good.

Lance sank down into a sit and plopped his pink pole of a leg down in front of him. He panted with anxiety. His dog was uneasy. The door was closed, and he was trapped in there. Trapped with a half-naked Tim. Tim, who was trying very hard to take care of him. The dog didn’t want to hurt Tim, which meant he was going to have to do whatever Tim wanted.

“I’m going to get soaking wet, I suppose. It doesn’t matter. Come on, buddy. You need this. You’ll feel so much better with all that mud out of your fur.”

Lance heaved a long, heartfelt sigh. Tim moved toward him, apparently intent on picking Lance up. Well, if this had to happen, at least Lance could retain some dignity. He pulled away and jumped into the tub himself. It wasn’t the most graceful maneuver he’d ever made, with his front left paw stiff and foreign feeling, and water went everywhere.

Tim laughed. The sound sparkled off the bathroom tiles. “Okay, that works. Holy cow.” He threw some towels on the floor to sop up the spill and knelt beside the tub. “Let’s put your leg up here. Come on.” He gently tugged Lance’s pink leg up to rest on the edge of the tub. Now it was pink and
wet. Lovely. But Tim dried it off carefully with a towel and that pink wrap was probably made out of alien space plastic or something, because it looked like it had never seen a drop of water in its life.

Tim had his hands on Lance—one on the pink leg and one on the opposite shoulder. He stared as he knelt by the tub. He was wearing a funny little smile.

“You have the biggest, bluest, most beautifulest eyes ever, do you know that?” He was using the kind of voice his mother used when she talked to baby Samantha.