Page 70 of Bodybuilders for the BBW

But he wouldn’t make it.

My entire focus was on the two dogs’ trajectory. Bronson’s tail wagged a few times tentatively, then he began to shrink back in a way I was well familiar with. He’d come out of his shell, but now he was ready to go right back into it. His body collapsed in on itself. Ears flat to the skull, tail down, he scuttled back, but the terrier just kept on coming.

Terriers can be amazing dogs, but sometimes it felt like people downplayed bad dog behaviour because of their size. Many of the breeds were created to hunt vermin or larger prey, so they had plenty of the tenacity, the prey drive, to do the job well, but nowhere to direct it.

“Max!” one of the owners shouted. “Max!”

Children squealed and the wife started saying something in a high-pitched voice, but all I could focus on was my dog.

“Bronson…!”

I had to up my cardio. That came out in a gasp as I fought to catch my breath, but my dog heard me. A high-pitched whine and he made a beeline for me. Past Rhys, past the family, past everything, except for the damn terrier. Despite the other people’s shouts, their dog was hot on Bronson’s tail, right up until he reached me.

Bronson was making high-pitched whining sounds, completely panicked, but I stepped in front of him, ready to face down this terror of a terrier. Sharp fangs flashed, a crazed look in its eye, right before a hand snatched the dog from the sand, holding it at a distance as it snarled and scrabbled.

“Don’t you dare hurt my dog!”

The mother came marching over, her face almost as red as the setting sun as the crying children were herded after her by their father.

“Hurt…?” Rhys’ jaw flexed, making apparent he was barely resisting the urge to drop kick the dog right now. Instead, he shoved the ball of aggression into the woman’s arms. “Pretty sure if there’s an aggressor here, it's Max.”

“My dog…?” The woman’s mouth fell open, as if she was the one to almost tear off Rhys’ towel. “Your dog is one of those fighting animals. A… Pitbull! You let a Pitbull free roam in a public place?”

“C’mon, Max.” Her husband caught up with them, taking the dog from her and putting it back on the lead, making sure to tighten the collar. “Look, no harm done.”

“No harm…” I looked down when I felt something hot and wet and saw that Bronson had peed a big puddle on the sand. He cringed when he saw he had my attention, but I dropped down to scratch his stomach. “It’s OK. You’ll be OK.”

“There,” the husband said in a fake jovial tone. “No one’s hurt.”

“But they could’ve been.” I wouldn’t have taken the family to task. Standing up to people rarely got me anything other than a mouthful of abuse, so I admit, I stiffened when Rhys stepped forward. “Your dog got off the lead.”

“You dog didn’t have his lead on!”

The woman was obviously spoiling for a fight.

“Mine doesn’t randomly attack other dogs in public,” Rhys snapped back.

“Max didn’t attack?—”

“He was clearly intent on taking a piece out of my dog! Max chased him all the way back to us.”

“Your dog could’ve chewed Max up with one bite,” the man said, trying to jolly Rhys out of his thunderous mood with a smile.

“But he wouldn’t.” I rose to my feet and felt Bronson pressing hard into my leg. He wanted out of here, now, but first I needed to do this. “He never has. Our dog was a bait dog.” The two adults recoiled at that, even as the children stared in confusion. “Bronson wouldn’t even hurt a flea. Max, however…”

The dog was standing at the very end of his lead, his lips curled back from his fangs.

“Yes, well…”

The woman ran out of things to say, turning on her heel and marching away, dragging Max and her family along with her.

“Are you OK?” Rhys turned and looked me over, then Bronson. “How’re you doing, bud?”

“I think…” I wanted to claw back that good feeling, like the world was turned to gold and me along with it. “I think I’m ready to head home.” When I looked down, Bronson’s tail thumped a few times. “And so is he.”

“Right.” I could see the disappointment there, but this was the moment when I felt like the new me might become something far more permanent. I didn’t make his feelings my responsibility. Instead, I stood my ground and waited for his nod. “You got it. C’mere, bud.”

Rhys had carried me down to the water’s edge, but he carried the dog back up the beach, not letting him down until we were walking along the footpath back to the gym. Rhys reached out, his fingers brushing mine and I clasped it tightly until we walked back into the gym to grab his car keys and my gear. Bronson hid under a nearby desk until we were ready to leave, then bounded for the front door.

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