“So, go to the dog park. I called the shelter and they’ve started walking the dogs there, too, to get them socialized. Maybe you could find a dog you love if you can’t find a guy,” Mitch said. “There’s got to be a pup out there aching to be hugged.”

“Guy or dog?” He wasn’t one for younger men. “Is this an order?”

“Uh-huh. Go to the dog park this afternoon and the fire house in the morning. I want stories by Monday, so don’t goof off,” Mitch said. “I’m planning on running both features by Thursday.”

“Thanks.” He tamped down his irritation, but not by much. He wanted to tell Mitch to shove the dog park story, but he didn’t want to lose his job for being difficult. “Mitch?”

“Yes?” Mitch sat up in the chair. “Issue?”

“I’m not a dog person.” There. He’d said it.

“So?”

“I’m not cut out for the dog park story.” When Mitch stood, Taylor did, too. He followed Mitch across the newsroom to his office. “You know?”

“Maybe I do.” Mitch ushered Taylor into the privacy of his office and shut the door. “Maybe I don’t.”

He groaned. “Don’t play mind games with me. Are you going to push me to complete this story?”

“Look, I don’t like baseball. Never have. I went to so many games in high school to watch my brother and hear stories about how I’d never been good enough because I wasn’t like him. If I never see another game, I’ll be fine, but I was required to cover the baseball season for five years. I’d still be on that beat if I hadn’t gone for the editor position. Even when we don’t like the story or situation, we have to suck it up and follow the trail. That’s the job.”

Mitch had a point. Writing stories about the rottenness in society didn’t help him sleep at night. Taylor lived for the positive ones. He’d have to do this one, but another better-fitting story would be along soon.

“Sorry. You’re on the dog park feature. I’m not budging.” Mitch grinned. “Anything else?”

“But it’s fluff,” Taylor said. His favorite kind of fluff, but still. He couldn’t help himself. He needed to get out from under this story. Mitch would never understand his aversion to dogs.

“Fluff rhymes with rough. Suck it up and visit those dogs.” Mitch pointed to the door. “Thank you. I’m glad you’re interested in the feature and thrilled to cover it.”

So much for getting Mitch to budge. “Fine.” Christ, he hated his editor’s sarcasm. “I’m on it.”

“Wonderful. It’ll be painless. You might even have fun.” Mitch escorted Taylor from the office. “I’ll see the rough draft of both stories by the end of day Monday?”

“Yes.” He turned on his heel and headed into the corridor. He hated dog parks. The places were smelly, full of bodily functions…not to mention the dogs. He stifled a shudder as he returned to his desk. He grabbed his keys, wallet, phone and messenger bag. If he had to cover the story, he’d do it, but he wouldn’t like it. Maybe no one would be there. Maybe he’d have to pass the story to someone else…no visitors, no story. A dull ache started behind his eyes.

No one knew he wasn’t a fan of dogs. Even Mitch, his friend for years, didn’t know about the incident from his childhood. But at three years old, being tackled by an overly amorous black dog that had seemed gigantic had scarred him. Back then, he’d thought the dog wanted to kill him. Licked to death and nibbled was more like it, but at three, what did he know? Ever since, he’d been hesitant to be alone with dogs. Then there was Joe’s dog, the snappy Chihuahua, Dainty. He’d been bitten so many times… Joe refused to correct the dog and Taylor hated having to hide the marks.

Damn it. His job was more important than any relationship or fear. He’d overcome his aversion to flying and heights while working for the Chronicle. He could conquer his fear of dogs, too.