“That’s a relief. I was at my wit’s end. Really.”
After walking the entire yard, we head back to his house, hoping the little dog will come back to where he’d escaped. As we walk, I pose a question since I just can’t help myself. “If you don’t mind my asking, I know this is totally off base…but what’s your favorite book that you’ve written?”
“That’s a tough one. They’re all like children.”
I’ve never created something like that, so I don’t really understand his meaning, although I suppose it’s like my clients and their dogs. I love them all. “You love them too much to choose?”
“Not exactly, maybe kids were the wrong analogy. I’m very close to all of my books because every single character I write has a piece of me inside of them. I think it’s impossible for authors not to pour every single emotion into the work for the sake of the work. When I finally type the end, I’m wiped.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I can be a sort of an A-type personality, especially when it comes to my work. Otherwise, I’m pretty laid back.”
When I remember the chaos in his household, I have a hard time believing him. I wonder if he’s one of those people who can’t see the forest for the trees. “That’s fascinating. I’ve always been curious about what it takes to sit there and actually write an entire book. The most I’ve ever done since college is bang out a couple of blogs on training tactics for my website.”
“The first book took me forever to write. I struggled to just get a page or two a day in. But the process gets a little easier with each book. And now, fourteen books later, it’s like second nature to me. Writing’s a muscle you need to flex daily.”
“That’s amazing.” I gaze into his eyes and hope I’m not coming on too strong. He looks at me as if he’s interested in what I have to say. Is he checking me out? Nah, it can’t be that. I’m seeing things just because I want to. “What you do is fascinating.”
He takes a step closer to me, and the hair raises on my arms. His eyes soften as he gazes down at me. “I love being a writer. I wouldn’t choose another profession. Besides, I don’t think I’m good at much else at this stage of the game. Forty is right around the corner.”
Once the floodgates of questions spewing from my mouth open, I can’t seem to dam them up. “Did you like the movie they made of your book with Keanu Reeves?”
“I liked the check.”
I chuckle as I admire his sparkling eyes. “Is that your way of saying no?”
“It wasn’t a bad movie, per se. There’s just only so much you can explore with the medium of film. In books, we can totally immerse our readers into our created world by engaging all of their senses. Most movies about books are kinda like cliff notes, in my humble opinion.”
“That’s a good point. I’ve never really looked at it that way.” Speaking of all the senses, I can’t help but notice his cologne. The musky, citrusy scent tickles my nostrils and makes my knees wobble. A man who smells good gets my lady bits vibrating on a visceral level.
“But I have zero regrets. As soon as my agent sent the check, I went right down to the dealership and bought the Beemer of my dreams with heated seats and a heated steering wheel. Here in Minnesota, both have come in very handy.”
“I bet. Minnesota, the state where three months of the year you can freeze ice on your own ass.”
“You betcha.” He slips right into his best accent. “Hand me some of that tater tot hot dish.”
I laugh at his effort. “Minnesota can get downright frigid.” I follow him through his front door and my gaze immediately lands on the huge fireplace, and I picture us sitting there on the rug with his arm around me, warming me from within.
Stop it, Brooke! Keep it professional.
Grabbing the leashes, I hook three to the remaining dogs so we can leave the door open for the missing one. I decide to put the focus back where it belongs. “But you were right about your books. Kids were a bad analogy.”
“Yep, especially seeing as how I don’t have any. I made a comparison that even I don’t understand.”
“Sure, you do.” I pet the dogs and speak in my best soothing voice. “Doesn’t Daddy love you?”
He snorts. “That’s a good one. If this is what parenthood looks like, I want no part of it.”
“You don’t mean that.” I search his eyes, hoping against hope that he’s not serious.
“I absolutely do.”
I switch tactics. “So, what possessed you to go out and get these angels?”
“Angels?” He chuckles. “That’s a very long story. Actually–”
Before Landon can finish, Burrito bursts through the front door with a creamy colored object dangling from his tiny lips. I can’t place it, so I step closer, holding out my hand toward the dog. As he gets closer, he spits it out about two inches away from my Keds. My nostrils flare, and I hiss in a breath. The corners of my mouth tug and tug, in a war between disgust and amusement. If I smiled, it would be one of the rudest things I’ve ever done. The minuscule plastic tube is a used condom. I’ve never seen anything so small. It looks like Burrito used it.
I glance over at Landon. Blood rushes to his face, and his fingers twitch. After a few embarrassing seconds, he points at the thing. “That’s not mine.”
I bite the inside of my mouth until I taste blood, trying like hell to hold my laughter inside. “Dogs don’t wear condoms, so no harm, no foul.”
“You’ve…you…you have to believe me. Oh God! Please, believe me. He’s a garbage rummager. He’s like a dog version of the trashman.”
“Don’t worry about it, Landon. I’m not here to judge your personal life, I’m just here to help teach your dogs basic obedience.” I make my way outside, holding the leads of all three dogs, the fourth one in my arms. Snagging his leash too, I step out in the cool air.
I stare in amazement. In the few minutes we’ve been inside, Burrito has made a mess in the front yard. Trash is strewn all over the lawn. A McDonald's wrapper here. A floating Kleenex there. Burrito has been busy as a bee. I can’t hold back another second, and a smile overtakes my face.
Landon follows me, stooping over to pick up items as he goes. “How in the hell did he do all this in a few minutes?”
I laugh and put Burrito on his leash before placing him on the ground with his siblings. For the first time, I notice a storage shed. A flash of green catches my eye, and I walk a few steps toward it so I can peek inside, the little dogs trying to pull in different directions. The open door reveals hundreds of boxes of Girl Scout cookies.
Oh God, it’s him!
I can’t believe that my favorite author is the douchebag from the grocery store that Pam described. I tighten my arms around Burrito, who is trying to escape again.
W. Ellis Cole, you just broke my heart.
I want to just leave and tell him to stick his private lessons where the sun doesn’t shine, but not until I confront him. I point to the cookies. “What are you doing with all of those?”
He captures a skittering Q-tip in his hand and turns to glare at me. “What’s it to you?”
“I’m just curious.”
If Landon were an animal, he’d be a porcupine. Every single part of him bristles with a sharp barb. “If you must know, I couldn’t care less. I don’t even eat sugar.”
“How dare you fuck with the Girl Scouts. Who does that?”
He rocks back on his heels, glaring at me. “It’s really not any of your business, is it?”
“Asshole,” I mumble under my breath. “I hope your little dogs piss all over your leg.”
On my way to the appointment, I was so excited I could hardly contain myself. I was ready to shamelessly beg for an autograph and a selfie. But now, I’m appalled to discover that Landon, aka W. Ellis Cole, turned out to be the asshole from the grocery store. I wish Dave Chromy would have called the cops on his pompous ass. He’s one of those famous people who thinks the world revolves around him just because he wrote a co
uple of best-selling books.
Well, my world doesn’t revolve around him and it never will. Not one more second.
The craziest part is that I just assumed that the Girl Scout cookie douchebag was some grumpy old guy, and the elderly can be cut a bit of slack. They can rarely hear or see that well anymore, and many of them have dementia. I never dreamed Thin Mint douche would be so hot. I’m pissed off beyond words. All I want to do is walk away from him and never look back, but that would be unprofessional. Bark Buddies can’t pay the price for my annoyance.
I look down at the little dogs surrounding me. These little guys can’t pay the price either.
Chapter 6
Landon
When Brooke thrusts the dogs’ leashes into my hand, I follow her across the lawn toward the driveway, and I watch her curvy back as it slides behind the wheel of her Honda. Part of me feels regret for being an asshole, but another part of me enjoys the fact that I’ve scared her away with my growling. It’s better this way. She doesn’t deserve to be forced to hang out with me either.
After a few seconds, I realize that it has nothing to do with my personal life. Or hers. She was here to control the ankle biters, and I’ve completely fucked that up. Now, who’s going to be able to help me? Maybe I can call someone from the U of M in the animal behavior department. Too bad I had the perfect solution in the palm of my hand, and instead of cradling it like a Fabergé egg, I slammed it down onto a cement floor.
Things were going okay until she happened upon my storage shed and freaked out over a couple hundred boxes of cookies. What the hell? Somehow, we had even gotten past the mortification of Burrito finding my neighbor’s extra small used condom in the trash only to have damn cookies shoot our fragile connection all to hell.
Another flaming hot wave of shame envelops me. One that I can’t shake this time. I hope she believed me when I told her the little shit had filched the condom from the neighbor’s trash. First off, it was the wrong fucking size! There’s nothing extra small about yours truly. Second of all, I haven’t had sex in…I don’t even like to think about how long it’s been.
Because it’s been years.
By choice, I have been celibate since Carla passed away, but that doesn’t mean I don’t yearn for someone to hold. I miss the kissing, the cuddling, the way it feels to go deep inside a woman, so deep I touch her soul. And not just any woman. The right woman. The kind of woman I feel pulled toward, just like I’m pulled toward Brooke.
And I’ve somehow fucked that up.
Here I am standing a few feet away from a gorgeous woman who I just want to take into my arms and kiss. But Brooke is so furious that she isn’t even making eye-contact with me. And she’s about to leave.
I think back to my infamous grocery store fiasco over the damn Thin Mints. If someone would’ve recorded it, the video surely would’ve gone viral. I didn’t mean to be an ass, I was just running short on patience that day. And I wasn’t even yelling at the little girls. It had been their pain in the ass leader who’d triggered me with her smart mouth.
I exhale a breath and ignore the dogs jumping up on my legs. Carla always kept me balanced. Without her, it’s been difficult to navigate challenging social situations.
Now, I’m literally chasing Brooke like a lost puppy or a pesky Chihuahua to be exact. “Brooke!”
“What!?” she snaps.
“You’re not leaving, are you?”
She ignores me and pulls out a bag, then gets out of the car and heads toward me. No, she heads toward the dogs, I correct. For them, she even gives one of her beautiful smiles. It fades when she looks at me again. “Which one is the hair-licker?”
I point to Taco, who stares at Brooke, the picture of innocence and sweetness. “Guilty as charged.”
“Taco, come!” She claps her hands.
Taco barks once but complies. She pets him as a reward. “There are a variety of things we can try. The most important thing is to be assertive but affectionate at the same time when giving dogs instructions. And consistency is king. They can’t get confused because their trainer is all over the board.”
“And how exactly is that done?” I make no effort to hide my skepticism. She sounds like she’s taken up a foreign language.
“Taco! You’re doing great, boy!” Brooke flashes a big smile as she stands up. At least she’s not threatening to hit me.
“Doing great at what? He’s not doing anything?”
“That’s the point. He hasn’t climbed you like a red oak or licked your hair since I’ve been here. I see that as progress.” Her gorgeous face twists into a grimace.
“Let’s see how long that holds up. You should see me when I get out of the shower.” I snap my mouth shut. I don’t want to come across as some pervert. Between the condom thing and this, our conversations have been highly unprofessional. “I mean, Taco likes freshly-washed hair.”
“You mentioned that, but we have to start somewhere. We can also try a clicker.”
“A what?”
“A dog clicker. It’s a popular training device. You click it when your dog does something right. Then, you reward him with a treat.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. You don’t understand! These dogs were spoiled rotten before I came here. They need some real discipline. As in screaming, in-your-face, boot-camp style training. That’s the only thing that’s gonna work. All the clicks and treats in the world wouldn’t make a damn difference.”
She places a hand on each curvaceous hip and juts her chin out in defiance. “If you have all the answers, why did you bother to call me?”
“I thought you could help out. I had no idea you would come here and suggest stupid shit like clickers.”
“Stupid? Are you kidding me?” Each incredulous syllable peppers me like a jagged rock.
“Yeah, it sounds stupid to me. I can’t help it.”
“I wouldn’t be here if your methods were so damn effective! You don’t have a clue what you’re doing.”
“Neither do you.”
“You still don’t get it. Dogs are a lot like humans. Yelling and screaming will get you nowhere. There’s a time and a place for tough love but only after a dog truly understands all the basic commands and has them mastered.”
“That’s not true. Yelling and screaming is highly effective, especially when it comes to bitchy women.” I can’t stop the words from escaping my mouth. I’m being an asshole. My attraction to her pisses me off more than I care to admit, even to myself. “It gets the fucking point across. All of that crap about catching more flies with honey than vinegar is just make believe for people who believe in fucking fairytales. You probably read that romance drivel on your Kindle every night before you go to bed.”
“You know what, Landon?” Her eyes are the color of tempests, flashing at me with stormy intent. “I really don’t like you.”
I laugh, but it resembles a sarcastic cackle. With each breath I take, Brooke crawls under my skin like a chigger, itching, and burrowing. But I can’t deny the fact that I’m still drawn to her. She looks beautiful, standing in the sunlight, surrounded by the little terrors who already seem to adore her.
“And you’re way out of touch with the real world. With your BMW and your career as a famous author, you have no clue about how to deal with people. Everybody is probably scared to death of saying the wrong thing around you. Well, I don’t give a damn what you do for a living or what kind of car you drive.”
“Excuse you?”
“I’m sure you heard me the first time.” I admire the way her pert nose turns upward as her nostrils flare. Unbidden, thoughts of kissing her on her full lips pops into my mind. “Look, Landon, Cole, or whatever the hell you call yourself, you’re the expert on writing, and I’m the expert on dogs. And trust me, they do not respond to yelling and screaming. Okay?”
“Aren’t you yelling and screaming right now, smarty pants?”
She growls low in her throat, and for some reason, it turns me on. “I’m
raising my voice for emphasis, crabby pants. These dogs need affection, care, and understanding. They need consistent routines and training methods. They also need to be rewarded for doing the right thing. That’s what works. I’ve been doing this a long time. I ought to know.”
I can’t help but smile a little as she stands there, about five-foot-two of steaming woman. She’s feisty in the sexiest way. I love a woman who speaks her mind. My cock twitches, and I wish I had more time to examine the implications. It’s like a divining rod for a woman who hates my guts.
I take a deep breath. “Brooke, I’m not sure about all of this. I just don’t see how your methods will work at all.”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
“And by the way, dogs and people have absolutely nothing in common. All they do is eat, shit, and sleep. Oh, and breed.”
Her nostrils flare. “What are you talking about? There are plenty of people out there who eat, shit, and sleep in that order. And they do plenty of breeding.”
I shake my head and chuckle. “Those are not the kind of people I associate with. Do you?”
“No, but you’re wrong about dogs. They’re very intellectual. They have saved countless lives. With the right training, they’re capable of just about anything.”
“That’s a stretch.”
Her fists jam on her hips. “Have you ever seen a service dog help a blind person cross the street? Have you–”
I raise my hands. “Okay, okay, there may be a few exceptions, but that’s statistically insignificant. Most dogs have little to offer.” I point at the panting little fiends. “Especially those.”
“I think they’re great.”
“Have you ever met a dog you didn’t like?”
She ignores the implications, and I can hardly blame her. I hate myself right now. I can about imagine her unspoken thoughts about me.
“Sure, but that rarely happens.”
“Which speaks to my whole point.” As more epic douche words tumble from my mouth, I don’t even consider how I should just set down my shovel and stop digging. I also try not to notice how Brooke’s moist tongue darts to her bottom lip and slowly drags across it. Train wreck ahead, please brace for impact. “I think you love dogs too much to train them properly. I’m looking for a trainer who can really lay down the law.”
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