How to Howl at the Moon (7 page)

Lance huffed.

“Wanna know something? I’ve never had a dog before. I always wanted one, but my mom didn’t want one in the house.” Tim stroked Lance’s temple, right by his ear. The warm water did feel good after the cold and the
snow
. Between that and the steam and Tim’s rumbly voice, it was hard not to relax. The fingers on his temple felt so good, like they were soothing away a
headache he didn’t know he had. And he hadn’t noticed before, but Tim had a very deep voice. Maybe he’d never noticed it because Tim had always been nervous in the presence of Lance, the cop. Lance, the dog, really liked the tone of it, the way its low register tickled his ears, and the loving cadence to it.

Yeah, he’d be real loving if he knew who you were.

“And then when I worked for the nursery, I lived above the owner’s garage, and he wouldn’t let me have any pets there either! What a meany, huh?” Tim took Lance’s head in both hands and looked into his eyes. “We don’t like Marshall, do we? No we don’t!”

Lance barked in agreement. He wasn’t easily won over by humans in any case, so not liking this Marshall wasn’t much of a stretch.

“Probably for the best, though, since I spent most of my time working in the greenhouse. Not much of a life for a dog.” Tim poured shampoo into the palm of his hand and began to work it into Lance’s fur. “Hope this is okay. I don’t have any dog shampoo. Guess I’ll have to pick some up, huh?”

Lance was trying to focus on the tidbits of information Tim was dropping—nursery, greenhouse, Marshall—and not on Tim’s hands, but it was hard. The way they worked over his soapy fur, the nails lightly scratching, felt incredible. His eyes went half-lidded and his tongue lolled out. Christ. No wonder his mother always wanted a spa trip for her birthday. Lance couldn’t remember the last time he’d been pampered in anything by anyone. He didn’t need things like that. Never allowed himself the luxury.

“But now that we live out here, you can run around in the yard while I work. That’ll be okay, won’t it? I’ll leave the greenhouse door open so you can come in and keep me company whenever you get bored.”

Right there. That little… Ah.
Lance gave a whimper as Tim’s lovely scrubbing fingers moved over an itchy place. What was Tim saying? Open access to the greenhouse. That would be good.

Not that Lance planned on sticking around. Twenty-four hours. In and out.

Tim’s long, strong fingers massaged over Lance’s ribs. “You’re not too skinny. That’s good. But that means you must belong to someone, though, huh? No matter what Dr. McGurver
said.”

Lance cracked his eyes open to look at Tim. He looked simultaneously hopeful and sad. “I know I’d go crazy if I lost a dog like you, so I guess I have to at least look for your owners.” He pulled a glass off the counter and used it to rinse Lance off. The water sent soap streaming down Lance’s black fur in warm waves. “But I’m not going to look
that
hard. And if no one is missing a dog, would you like to live here with me?”

Tim’s hand ran over Lance’s clean fur, squeezing out some of the water. “I’m probably not your best choice of an owner, honestly. I’m not even sure if I’ll have a home six months from now. You see, I’m growing a bunch of stuff I hope to sell in the summer. But what if I can’t make a living at it? And then there’s the rose I promised Linda.” Tim sighed.

Stuff? What stuff?
Rose? What rose?

“But I’ll do the best I can by you. I promise.” Tim, now soaking wet himself, helped Lance out of the tub and onto some dry towels he’d put on the bathroom floor. Then he proceeded to rub Lance all over with more dry towels. Lance really wanted to shake to dislodge the water, but he refrained, knowing he’d get it everywhere. And the sensation of Tim rubbing him briskly was… sufficient.

Tim got the worst of the water off Lance. But instead of moving away, he put his arms around Lance and hugged him. There they sat—Lance sitting on his hind legs and Tim with his long legs and damp jeans sitting cross-legged right in front of him, leaning forward and hugging him, the towel still wrapped over Lance’s back. Tim’s face was over Lance’s shoulder, so he couldn’t see his expression, but he felt something, something open and hot and vulnerable pouring off the young man. Lance trembled. It was so private. He should pull away, this was taking advantage in a way he hadn’t anticipated. But he didn’t move.

“I’m so glad you’re all right. I would’ve hated myself if you’d been badly hurt.”

Oh, God.

Tim pulled back and smiled brightly. “Now what should I call you? I bet you don’t want to get stuck with ‘Buddy’, huh?”

Nothing. No name. That’s fine. Seriously.

Tim looked thoughtful. “What about Chance? Dr. McGurver said I’d taken a
chance
touching you. And I guess you are a chance at something new for me. Maybe I’m a chance for you too. What do you think, Chance? Do you like it?”

Lance plopped his head on Tim’s shoulder with a sigh. He was in so much trouble.

*                          *                         *

After the bath, Tim changed into flannel PJ bottoms and a T-shirt and made himself a sandwich. He ate it while they sat on the couch and watched
Twilight Zone
. Lance tried not to look at the sandwich, but he was feeling more than a little peckish and his dog instincts were clearly interested
—warm, safe,
food
.
The doggie trifecta.
Yes, food would be lovely right about then.

Tim pouted out his lip. “I’m sorry, Chance, but I can’t give you anything. Doctor’s orders. We’ll get you a nice big breakfast, though, okay? Do you like eggs? I picked up a dozen in Fresno, and I’ll scramble you three as soon as we get up. Maybe some toast too. Which reminds me. I’ll have to run out and get some dog food tomorrow.”

Lance lay down on the couch with a grumble and closed his eyes so he couldn’t see the food. Tim petted his back with one hand while he ate. Lance’s fur felt soft and clean from the bath. He wondered idly if he should try that shampoo and if his human hair would feel this good if he used it.

While Tim munched, occasionally Lance would open his eyes and peek at the TV. He hadn’t watched
Twilight Zone
in years. He’d forgotten that he liked it.

There were a lot of things Lance hadn’t done in years, he realized. And plenty that he’d never done at all.

Lance loved the dog part of his nature. It was happy, good-natured, loyal, and protective of those he cared about. In his experience, he preferred quickened to humans any day. But despite this, he rarely shifted into his animal form. He’d been born with it, a fourth genner. As a kid, he’d been reluctant to shift that first time, afraid of losing himself, of losing control. But finally his friends had goaded him into it when he was twelve. And all through high school, he’d worn
his animal form whenever he could. It felt great to run in the woods with his friends, to wrestle and play. He’d always been a serious boy, and becoming a dog let him experience being playful and carefree for the first time in his life.

But then he grew up. His dad was the sheriff
,
and Lance got a job with the department
. He was
determined to prove he was there because he deserved to be, and not just because he was his father’s son. He had big footsteps to fill. Everyone respected Sheriff Clifford Beaufort. The time to play had gotten harder and harder to find. Others in the community had a regular ‘howl at the moon night’ once a month, running in the mountains just for the joy of it.

And exercise,
his mother always insisted.
It’s good for you to use those muscles, to shift back and forth. Keeps you young and sharp! Your dog needs to play.

Lance always insisted he got plenty of exercise on the job. And what if an emergency came up while he was off romping around in his fur? It’s not like he could carry his cell phone. Since his dad’s passing, leaving the ship unattended even for a moment was not an option.

But being in his dog form was one thing. This was something else entirely. Lance had never, ever pretended to actually
be
a dog with a full-blooded human. H
e’
d never been on the receiving end of petting hands, hugs, and endearments, and, for god’s sake, a bath! He should be horrified at the very idea. But, in his dog form, it was all strangely… okay. In fact, if he was honest with himself, it felt disturbingly comfortable and distressingly nice. It was like sinking into a warm, fluffy bed.

No wonder some of the newly quickened decided to go back to living full-time as a dog. It wasn’t something the community approved of. Understood—yes. Their dog nature still had a strong pull to be with humans. With the right human, being a dog full-time was a very easy path in life. But Lance always found such behavior a complete and inexcusable cop-out. The gift of the spark was just that—a tremendous gift. To ignore the fact that you could think and reason and talk, that you could stand on your own two legs and take care of yourself and others, could be an agent in the human world, was to spit in the face of that gift. He’d never understood how anyone could make that choice.

And how frightening it was, too. Living as a dog meant not having control. Someone else decided everything for you, held your life in their hands. No thank you.

Lance himself had never felt much of a pull to be with a specific human being. Never before. But now, the dog side of his nature felt a stab of longing for the man sitting next to him. And that gave his human side a rush of pure fear. He jumped down off the couch.

“Chance? What is it, bud? You need to go out?”

Tim went to the door and opened it, but Lance just looked out at the
snow
with zero interest, and back up at Tim. Tim was appealing like this—in his pajamas, relaxed, and open. He seemed… nice. Cute.
Warm
. And so different than the nervous, stumbling, defensive guy Lance had met while wearing his uniform. He wondered if Tim was ever able to show this side of himself to other people.

But… no. Lance refused to be drawn to Tim, either as a dog or a man. That wasn’t the plan. He limped to the corner of the room and lay down, curled up facing the wall.

Tim came over and scratched Lance’s ears. “Are you tired? You can lay on the couch with me and sleep.”

But Lance ignored the words, the slight hurt in Tim’s voice, and the urge inside himself to do what Tim wanted, to take the comfort offered. Lance closed his eyes.

“It’s okay. It’s been a big night, huh? It’ll take time for us to get used to each other.”

Tim went into the hall and came back with a big comforter, which he doubled up and put next to Lance. “There you go. That’ll be a little more comfortable than the floor at least.”

When Tim went back to the couch, Lance crawled onto the comforter, curled up, and went to sleep.

Bring Me A Bone

LANCE WOKE up before dawn. He padded down the hall and looked in on Tim to make sure he was asleep. Tim was tucked into his bed on his stomach, his arm wrapped around a pillow, a cute patch of drool by his mouth. He
’d left the bedroom door open. For Chance?

Lance, still a dog, poked around the house but didn’t find anything new. Tim didn’t seem to have that many personal belongings in the place. And there was no scent of smoke of the legal or illegal variety. Next, Lance went out to the greenhouse. It took him an annoying ten minutes of worrying at the pink bandage on his leg with his teeth to get it off so he could shift back to his human form. He let himself inside the greenhouse, planning to search it. Which made him nervous. Tim coming out to the greenhouse at dawn to find the Mad Creek sheriff, naked, was not a good scenario. He had no idea if Tim was an early riser.

Lance felt rushed and still a little out of
it
after having spent the night in dog form. The greenhouse was tidy, and he didn’t find anything to confirm or refute his suspicions. There were bags of fert
ilizer, potting soil, and a spare
little arrangement of older tools. Mainly, there were a whole lot of big trays with little individual pockets filled with dirt. Some of the trays were marked
simply
‘
A
’
or
‘
B
’
. Others had strange names like ‘C-GHST’ or ‘P-GSN’, which meant nothing to Lance. Whatever Tim had planted, it hadn’t sprouted yet. But surely that had to happen soon. A week at most, right? He’d have to hit Google when he got to the office to see how long seeds took to germinate.