“Oh, but I wanted her to meet the dogs,” Justin protested, glancing back to the car and frowning when he saw Holly’s clenched expression through the car window. Honest to God, she had the same expression Lucian and Leigh’s babies got when they were dropping a particularly hard dirty in their diaper. He wouldn’t have been surprised to hear she was taking a dump on the front seat.
“She’s not taking a dump on your front seat,” his mother assured him on a laugh, and then in more solemn tones said, “But she is terrified, Justin. Why on earth didn’t you call ahead and tell me that she was terrified of dogs? I would have made sure they were all in the kennel before you got here.”
“She’s not terrified of dogs,” he said, turning to his mother with surprise. “She loves them.”
Matild Bricker looked dubious at this claim and then turned back to peer at Holly. After a moment, she shook her head. “I don’t know who told you that girl loves dogs, but they were wrong. She was mauled by a pack of wild dogs at three and has been terrified of them ever since.”
“What?” he squawked with dismay.
His mother nodded, and then turned away, patting her leg. Octavius immediately obeyed the silent order and stood to follow her. But he also glanced back forlornly at Justin as he went, obviously unhappy about leaving him behind.
Mind racing, Justin watched until his mother and Octavius had walked out of sight around the house, and then turned slowly to the car to peer at Holly. Now that Octavius was gone, she looked a touch calmer. Not more than a touch though. She was as white as a sheet and even from where he stood, he could see that she was shaking.
Holly so did not love dogs, he acknowledged grimly. Anders had definitely got that wrong.
Sighing, he opened the driver’s door and slid back behind the steering wheel.
“Close the door. The dog might come back,” Holly said at once.
Justin dutifully closed the door, then turned sideways in his seat to take her hands. “It’s okay, Holly. Octavius would never hurt you. I promise.”
“But he attacked you,” she protested. “He—-”
“No, honey, he was just excited to see me,” he assured her. “And I wasn’t ready for all of his weight coming at me at once.”
“But—-”
“Look,” he interrupted, holding out his hands and arms and turning them over. “No bite marks or scratches. He just wanted to lick me in greeting, honey.” As she looked him over, he added, “I bottle--fed Octavius as a pup. He apparently recognized me and was happy to see me, that’s all.”
“Oh,” Holly whispered.
Justin remained silent as she obviously tried to gather herself.
After a moment, she seemed almost her normal self again. At least, she stopped shaking and some color had come back to her cheeks when she offered him an embarrassed smile and muttered, “Sorry, I must have sounded like a crazy person.”
“No,” Justin lied. She really had been screaming like a loon. And he didn’t know what the hell that one alien noise she’d been making had been, it had sounded to his ears like half shriek and half mindless twitter. Yeah, she’d definitely sounded crazy. Pushing that thought aside, he cleared his throat and said, “My mother says you were mauled by dogs as a little girl.”
She nodded her head jerkily, concentrating on taking deep breaths now.
“But Anders told me you love dogs.”
That startled her and she turned to him with surprise. “Why would he say that? I told him about being mauled as a kid.”
Justin’s head went back slightly at this news. There was no way the man could have mistaken “I was mauled by dogs as a child,” for “Gosh I love dogs.” His brain ticked that over briefly and then he asked, “What about picnics?”
“What?” she asked with confusion.
“Do you like picnics, but just not on the beach? Or—-”
“Actually, I’m not keen on anything to do with nature,” she admitted apologetically. “Eighteen years in a tent made me a definite city girl. I like four walls and a bathroom . . . and tables and chairs and a bed,” she added firmly.
“Right.” Justin nodded slowly. “And flowers?”
“No,” she said with a grimace. “They make me think of death ever since starting at the cemetery.”
“I can see how that could be,” he said grimly. “What about wine? Do you like wine?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Wine is just vinegar with a fancy name.”
“Fish?” he queried.
“Can’t stand it, head on or off,” she admitted, and then added, “Well, unless it’s battered and deep fried. I do like fish--and--chips--type fish. Just can’t stand the rest of it.”
“Right,” Justin said wearily, lifting his hands to massage his temples.
Holly eyed him curiously, and then suddenly asked, “Did Anders say I liked all those things?”
He nodded grimly.