Apparently their trespasser felt the same, because it thumped its tail even harder.

Ally stared at the long creature with the drenched and filthy coat and unusually round middle. As she calmed down, she could see that the “savage beast” was actually a big, scraggly dog that had just been looking for shelter from the approaching winter storm. She knew she had just made a pretty big fool of herself in front of the ex-marine. Unfortunately, her fear, irrational as it might have been, was not entirely gone yet, despite the fact that their barn crasher was now putty in Hank’s large, capable hands.

Telling herself she would not give Hank McCabe reason to think less of her than he probably already did, Ally willed herself to take several deep breaths. Suddenly he turned his head to look at her. Although he didn’t speak, he seemed to be wondering why she hadn’t budged from where he had left her.

Good question.

“How did you know that dog wasn’t going to bite you?” she asked eventually, hoping to turn McCabe’s attention to something other than her embarrassing display of cowardice.

“First, it was scared and upset, not rabid. Second, it’s a golden retriever.”

Her heart still pounding erratically, Ally discreetly wiped her damp palms on the skirt of her suit. “So?”

Hank regarded her with the ease of a man who was clearly in his element. “Golden retrievers are one of the gentlest breeds.” He beckoned her with a slight tilt of his head. “Why don’t you come over here and say hello?”

Ally swallowed and eyed the two warily. Hank continued to smile with encouragement. The dog lifted its big head and stared at her, considering.

The memory of another stray dog who had stared silently-then sunk his teeth into Ally’s ankle-welled up inside her, followed by yet another wave of uncertainty and fear. “She didn’t sound gentle when she came barreling out of the corner,” Ally pointed out, taking another reflexive step back.