Page 15 of A Snowy Escape

Shadow barks, but it comes from farther away, and it sounds off.

I spin around, and my jaw falls.

That’s fucking weird.

“You’re not my dog,” I say, my tone accusatory. “How did you get in here?”

It’s a German shepherd, but I can’t tell anything else by sight. Luka or Bryant must have found it and brought it up here to get it out of the storm?

I’m confused.

Where the hell are the guys?

“Hey, you’re okay. You’re in my apartment,” I say, keeping my tone level. “You can bark and growl at me in my space. I won’t hold that against you. I’m sure you’re scared and unsure about what’s happening, but if you bite me again, I will bite your ass back. House rules.”

I turn to the side, approaching at a ninety-degree angle.

It amps up the growling, so I stop, keeping my arms close to my sides.

Back when I was a kid, the advice was to hold our hands out to let the dog sniff us. In reality, that advice is dumb and a great way to get yourself bitten.

I stop as the beast tucks its tail and its hackles rise.

“Ahh, you’re really not feeling having me in your space,” I say, keeping my voice soft as I take a step back.

I’ve avoided making eye contact, but I give a quick check.

Still no one around.

I want to yell for my brother or Bryant to see what the hell is going on.

I can’t do that, though.

Not without riling the dog even more.

“Well, even though it doesn’t make much sense when I think it through, I thought you were Shadow,” I say, staying completely still. “You’re clearly not. I made a mistake there. I would have been a lot quieter when greeting you, if I had known. Hopefully you won’t hold a grudge.”

A minute or two passes as I avoid moving.

The dog finally stops growling.

“That’s a good pup,” I murmur, keeping my tone steady. “I’m not going to hurt you, and you’re not going to hurt me. We got off on the wrong foot, but that’s fixable.”

The door in the hallway opens, and the dog barks, moving to a low, guttural growl. It’s not like I speak canine, but I am good at deciphering their behavior. That was a warning that someone else is in the apartment, but he or she thinks they have it handled.

I blink repeatedly as a woman, clad only in a towel, comes around the corner.

The shock on her face mirrors my own.

“I’m Lawson,” I say, barely holding myself back from lifting my arms to show her my palms. The dog wouldn’t like any sudden movements, so I keep very still. “This is my apartment. Well, it’s mine and my brother’s.”

“Abby,” she says, her voice coming out mostly a squeak. “Bryant said I could stay here. He told me he cleared it with one of you. I’m so sorry.” Her hand wraps around the top of her towel, and she walks over to the dog. “Echo, enough. Sit your butt down and hush. You’re supposed to be a lady. Act like it.”

I nearly chuckle.

Shepherds don’t work that way.

Echo’s head whips back, and I almost think she’s going to nip at her owner. Her body language makes a lot more sense now. She didn’t want me getting anywhere close to the hallway where her human was located.