Page 34 of Stand Your Ground
“Alright,” I said, grimacing internally at how I was fairly certain the next five minutes would go. I was picturing the chaos as I unlatched the door — the screaming, the jumping and scratching, the demand for me to put the damn dog in a bedroom somewhere as she half-crawled onto the countertop.
Zamboni bolted for her as soon as the latch was back.
“Zambo! No! Zambo, paws on the ground.Paws on the ground!”
I yelled after him as he darted for the kitchen.
But Livia didn’t budge.
She stood there with her wine in hand, hip cocked, expression schooled. And when Zamboni was a few feet away from her, bracing to pounce, she held up her palm.
“Stop.”
She said the word sharply, her voice low and firm.
And I’ll be fucking damned if that dog didn’t do exactly as she said.
He skidded to a stop, looking up at her with his tongue lolling out.
“Stay,” she said next, her fingers curling into a fist.
And he did.
“What in the witchcraft...” I muttered.
“Sit,” Livia commanded, and if I hadn’t seen Zamboni’s butt hit the ground with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it.
Livia nodded her approval, then slowly walked toward the dog with her hand still rolled into that fist that meantstay. She held her hand out to his nose next, letting him sniff her, and thenshe smoothed her hand over his glossy coat in two long, gentle, rewarding strokes, scratching under his neck after the last one.
“Good boy,” she said. “Free.”
That seemed to release him, and instead of jumping up on her the way he hadevery other guestI’d had over since I adopted him, he turned and bounded into the living room, snatching one of his toys before plopping down in his dog bed and chewing away.
I blinked at her. “What the fuck was that?”
“You said he was in training,” she said with a shrug. “Do you not work with him here at home? Those are all the basic commands.”
“And you know this because you’ve had so many dogs in your life?”
“Just one,” she clipped. “My mother’s dog. And trust me, that asshole was all I needed to learn to assert dominance from the get-go with any animal.”
“Me included,” I said with a wink.
That earned me a chuckle that felt hard-won, and I slid up at the island next to her, grabbing the glass she’d poured for me before tilting it toward hers.
“To you, cowgirl.”
“Stop calling me that,” she said, even as she clinked her glass to mine and drank.
“If the hat fits,” I said, gesturing to her outfit.
“I was at a festival at Curtis Hixon Park with Maven,” she said in way of explanation.
“Ah, so it’smewho should be jealous of all the other poor saps who got to ogle you before I did.”
The corners of her lips lifted again, but fell quickly as she sipped from her glass, eyes scanning my place.
I’d meant every line I’d tried to reel her in with when she stood on the other side of my door — she looked absolutelystunning tonight. But she also looked… different. Tired. Worn. Stressed.
