Chasing Stanley by Deirdre Martin

fun.”
    â€œGonna ask about me?” Jason teased.
    â€œProbably,” Delilah blurted, then looked away. “Damn,” he heard her whisper to herself.
    Jason didn’t press it. “Well, let me know how it goes. I’d be curious to hear about it.”
    Delilah gave a half smile, kind of like the Mona Lisa . She looked nice today, Jason noticed. The weather was beginning to cool off, and she had on a long-sleeved T-shirt that seemed a bit more form-fitting than usual. Also, her lips looked very shiny. Lip gloss? Whatever it was, it had him noticing how pink her lips were, how plump. Angelina Jolie had nothing on Delilah Gould.
    It was too much to resist. Slowly, and with great care, he leaned over and kissed Delilah. Her eyes registered shock, but then he felt her give herself over to it, but only for a moment. Not wanting to push, he gently broke contact. Delilah blushed, studying her hands in her lap.
    â€œThat was nice,” she murmured.
    â€œYes, it was. Would you like to go for coffee?”
    Delilah blinked. “With you?”
    Jason laughed. “No,” he teased, “with the other guy who just kissed you. Of course, with me. Me and Stan,” he amended, hoping that might make her less nervous.
    Delilah squirmed. “I don’t know. I mean”—she licked her delectable lips—“I’m not sure.”
    â€œHey, I know you like coffee. I’ve seen you drink it.”
    â€œI know, it’s just . . .” Her voice drifted off as she stared down at her feet.
    â€œAfraid kissing coupled with caffeine might drive us to do something crazy?” Jason joked.
    Delilah appeared not to have heard him. She’d stopped staring at her feet and had instead turned her attention to a man in a pin-striped suit walking a German shepherd. The guy was the size of a meat locker; he reminded Jason of one of those omnipresent bodyguards hip-hoppers seemed to surround themselves with. Jason watched as the shepherd squatted and did his business before master and dog began sauntering away.
    â€œExcuse me!” shouted Delilah. She sped toward the man and dog as if shot from a cannon. “Hey!” she yelled. The man stopped. So did Jason’s heart.
    â€œYou’re supposed to clean up after your dog,” Delilah scolded him. “It’s a law.”
    The man stared down at her contemptuously. “Yeah?”
    â€œYeah.” Delilah put her hands on her hips. “How would you like it if you stepped in dog shit and ruined those lovely shoes you’re wearing, because some schmuck like you didn’t clean up after his dog?”
    The man thrust his boulder-sized head forward. “Yo, what did you call me?” he asked as his dog began to growl.
    â€œQuiet!” Delilah barked at the dog. Shockingly, at least to Jason, the dog shut up. Delilah’s expression was angry as she continued looking up into the man’s face. “Please clean up after your dog.” Like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat, she made a poop bag appear from out of her fanny pack and held it out to him.
    The man sniggered. “I’m not cleanin’ up any shit .” His expression turned menacing as he took a step toward Delilah, towering over her.
    â€œC’mon, Stan.” Jason picked up Stanley’s leash and hustled over to Delilah and the Man Who Refused to Scoop Poop. Stanley let out a couple of barks and a low, long growl, something he rarely did. He knew this guy was a threat to Delilah. The sharp-dressed man took one look at Stanley and took a big step back.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” Jason demanded. He couldn’t believe Delilah had picked this guy for a civics lesson; he was three times her size and looked like the type who drop-kicked toddlers for fun.
    â€œWhat the hell kind of dog is that?” the man asked nervously.
    Jason yawned. “Newfoundland. Canadian attack dog.”
    â€œKeep that dog away