"Sorry about this, Megan." Ron Dawson rubbed Loopy's head affectionately. "He knows better than to jump that fence, don't you boy? I don't know what g...t into him today. You like Miss Megan, buddy boy?" He grinned. "Miss Megan doesn't particularly like dogs. I'm surprised she even let you in her kitchen. You must have charmed the pants off her, right?" He grinned again, blushing brightly. "Excuse my off-hand remark, Megan. I don't think anymore before opening my mouth. A consequence of growing. I….alph,” she mouthed at me, stopping in front of a tall bloke with wavy black hair and liquid brown eyes. “…. e … he ... I ... d ... yo… ut.” I nodded as my brain struggled to fill in the missing spaces in the sentence. He held out his hand and I took it. His paw was large and dry and warm and the look in his eyes said that he’d rather have been somewhere else. He was good looking in an outdoors, rugged sort of way, with a neatly-groomed designer stubble decorating his solid jaw-line. There. More

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