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“Have you ever been bitten by a dog?” I asked.
“No.”
“A threatening situation with one?”
“No.” Her eyes lifted to mine, and as I held her gaze, her eyes eased.
“Then stop over thinking. I would never do something that could cause you harm, Davina.”
Her teeth trapped her bottom lip, and with a small nod, she tried again. This time, there was no fear, no sign of panic. Slowly, Bo took a step closer to meet her hand to sniff. Once he did, he gave it a nudge, and naturally she ran her hand over to stroke his face.
“He’ll tolerate you. After all, that was quite the first impression you made on him,” I joked.
Davina smiled, and soon, she was petting him with both hands as she stood with fuzzy yellow socks on the threshold.
“Come.” She snapped her fingers and walked backward inside. Bo followed her, pulling me with the leash. “Does it hurt him?” Davina gestured to the muzzle.
“No, but he’s not a fan of it.”
“Can I take it off?”
“Are you after his heart?” I questioned; her smile widened.
“Maybe?” Davina shrugged, watching me.
Holding her gaze, I commanded stay in Russian, “Myjesto.” Bo stalled between us.
Davina hunched over Bo, slowly caressing his face as she tried undoing the buckles.
“His name is Boris, but I call him Bo at times. He will respond to both.”
“Hey, Bo,” she cooed the same moment the muzzle came off and Bo licked her hands. Davina hasn’t stopped smiling, and I took that as a good response to Bo, maybe this would workout, maybe this would help ease her anxiety. But before I would let Bo stay the night to guard, they both needed time to get used to one another.
Once Davina straightened, I let Bo explore the house as we now stood feet away from the front door, unsure of what to do next, what to say.
“So, about your favor,” I began. “I got some ideas I would like to discuss.”
“Sure, would you like some coffee or tea, Novak?”
I kept my smile from forming when it was all I wanted to do once I heard my name. This was the third time she’d said it, but it was never my first name. I looked over her toward the kitchen. The countertops were bare and, if I remembered correctly, she didn’t have a coffee machine when I looked inside her cabinets the other morning.
“You don’t have a coffee maker,” I added.
Her lips twisted with a nod. “It’s instant coffee. Not the best, to be honest, but it does its job.” Davina tucked her hair behind her ear, and my eyes followed the movement, unable to keep my gaze off her. She lowered her eyes, and I gave her the space she craved to hide away.
Davina was a contradiction to me. Never sure of what I should do, how to act, or how far I was pushing. Her signals always confused me, intrigued me, but mostly, they kept me searching for glimpses of more of her.
“Truthfully, I’m not much of a coffee drinker.”
She sighed in relief once the silence was broken. “I love coffee.” Her head shook with a snicker, as she turned and headed to the kitchen.
Sitting on the kitchen’s bar stool, I watched as she opened the cupboards. She filled a small pot with water and placed it over the stove before picking up the can of instant coffee, another with sugar.
“What’s your favorite?” I asked.
Davina turned slightly in place as she scooped ground coffee with a spoon and into a plain white mug. Everything inside the house was outdated, from the dark cabinets to the white and black appliances, to the green wallpaper that decorated the walls. Yellow tint covered the home of where it had once been white. Some would call it charm and character, but I called it old and forgotten with time.
“I like any coffee, but usually prefer it black. The stronger the better, sometimes a dash of sugar. If I’m feeling adventures, sometimes flavored.”
