“That’s what he was working for and what I was trying to avoid,” G.G. announced now, reclaiming her attention to the fact that he was scowling between her and the dog.

It took Ildaria a moment to return her mind to the conversation, and then she gave a disbelieving laugh and asked, “He was humping your leg for food?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” G.G. pointed out dryly. “He humped my leg and you gave him food to get him off.”

“Ah.” She shifted her gaze down to the dog who had finished his fry and was now staring up from her to G.G., his tongue coming out repeatedly to lick his upper lip as if he was trying to tell them he wanted more. Shaking her head, she shrugged apologetically. “Sorry. But I couldn’t resist. Damn that’s one cute dog.” Opening her eyes wide, she smiled at the pooch and added, “Aren’t you, H.D.?”

When the dog focused his attention on her, she found herself using that cooing voice all humans resort to when faced with cute creatures like babies and puppies. “Aren’t you a pretty puppy? Hmm? Yes you are. You look like a little teddy bear. I just want to cuddle you all up.”

That elicited a high-pitched bark from the little fur ball, and then he turned and charged to the open end of the bar by the swinging doors and careened around it, his little nails clacking on the hardwood.

“H.D., no!” G.G. said with alarm, dropping his plate on the bar and chasing after the dog even as he warned, “Get on a stool. He doesn’t like women and he’s an ankle biter.”

Ildaria ignored the warning, and turned to face the dog as he sprinted into view around the corner of the bar, still yipping as he came. Rather than climb up on a stool, she stepped down off the brass rail and crouched down to greet the little fluffy dog. When he reached her, she caught him under the front legs and lifted him fearlessly to her face so she could press kisses to his furry cheeks. He immediately began licking wildly at any part of her face he could reach.

“Well, damn.”

Lowering the dog, Ildaria cuddled him to her chest and petted him soothingly as she glanced at his owner. The giant gave a huff of disbelief.

“That dog doesn’t like anyone but me. Usually, anyway,” G.G. added, his gaze shifting to the dog now licking her hands, neck, and chin.

Ildaria shrugged almost apologetically. “Dogs like me.”

“So it would seem,” he muttered, some of the tension sliding out of him now that the danger of the little fur ball attacking her had passed. His gaze slid from her to the dog and then to his plate of food before he heaved a sigh and headed for the swing doors. “I’ll get Marguerite’s order.”