“Hey, Brooke!” As my head swings around at the rude interruption, I spot a tall man with short black hair in the doorway. Before I even know his name, I hate his fucking guts.
“Hey!” Brooke gives him a flirty wave as jealousy stabs me in every cell. “Landon Cole, this is Guy Foster, he owns an animal shelter, and he also doubles as Prior Lake’s animal control.” She looks at him as if he hung the fucking moon. It doesn’t go unnoticed that she’s never looked at me that way. “Landon’s a writer, and I’m training his dogs.”
“Nice to meet ya, buddy,” he says, extending his hand. “A writer, huh? Isn’t that a woman’s world?”
“Not at all,” I reply. When we shake hands, the guy has a WWE grip. Seems the feeling of hatred is going to ooze between us even though I’m not sure why. He’s squeezing my fingers like he wants to dislocate them. Damn! I’m a little disappointed by Brooke’s introduction. She didn’t even insinuate that I could have a claim on her.
And in my heart, I already do.
I know I have to be patient, but I don’t like keeping it a secret. I’m really into her. I never thought it could happen after Carla, but for the first time, I feel like I’m open to happiness again.
Guy looks at Fajita, Burrito, Chili, and Taco. “Are these your dogs?”
“Yeah.” I want to ask him why it’s any of his fucking business, but I don’t want to be openly rude to a stranger in front of Brooke. That shit almost got me arrested at Lund’s.
He laughs until he wheezes. “You’ve got to be kidding me. What kind of sissy owns a bunch of yapping Chihuahuas?”
I’m so surprised that I freeze for a moment. Brooke’s mouth falls open as she looks between me and the douche. Stuffing my hands in my pockets so I don’t take a swing, I finally say, “I don’t think that’s any of your concern.”
“Testy, testy,” Guy says with a shit-eating grin.
I turn to Brooke. “I’m headed to Cleary to walk them at your suggestion. We should leave now.”
She looks hurt and surprised and confused all at once. “Okay.”
“Come on, boys!” I push past Guy. The dogs follow me out of the room in a remarkedly behaved fashion.
As I walk away, I hear Brooke’s faint voice, “Wait, Landon…” I also hear Guy’s laughter. I don’t bother to look back as rage snakes up my spine. Why didn’t Brooke say something? I’m also angry at myself. Why didn’t I just tell Guy to fuck off?
I get the dogs in the car and speed out of the parking lot. On the drive to the dog park, I’m so upset that I can’t think straight. What the hell is the matter with me? I can only come up with one explanation. Brooke already means something to me.
And with that emotion, only comes pain.
Chapter 13
Brooke
I’m at home, in my living room, flipping through the channels on the TV. I settle on an episode of House Hunters International and feel a tinge of jealousy at the couple on the screen. They have a multi-million-dollar budget to buy a condo in the Cayman Islands. I look at the rain outside and fantasize about hot, sandy beaches. But in this fantasy, a hot writer holds my hand as we walk and look for seashells. Technically, it’s spring, but it will be several more weeks before I can pack away my winter coat.
On the commercial break, I see a beer ad. The man at the bar kind of reminds me of Landon, even though I doubt that Mr. Crabby Pants drinks Miller Lite. I see him more as a scotch or gin kinda of guy. But I’m not really sure. We haven’t had much time for casual conversation. I think he might have been about to ask me out on a real date before Guy barged into Bark Buddies.
It’s crazy how we went from screaming at each other about his dogs and his Girl Scout cookie collection to having crazy good sex in his living room. It was completely unexpected. But there was something about the way he opened up to me that totally changed my opinion of him. And now, I’m falling.
But earlier today, things regressed. He abruptly left after the group training session without even saying goodbye. I’m sure he was pissed off about Guy teasing him about Grandma Nancy’s Chihuahuas, but Landon’s reaction was way over the top.
I thought that Landon and I were starting something special. Now, I’m not so sure. I know that he’s very fragile and he doesn’t want to let anybody in. I get it. But that day when we were drinking tea, I felt a real connection. I wonder if I was wrong to give him a second chance. He’s a ball of emotion that needs to be released. I’m not interested in being the rebound girl to a dead wife.
Breaking down, I grab my cell phone and call him. I’m pleasantly surprised when he answers on the second ring, “Brooke?”
“Yeah, it’s me,” I say. “I didn’t get a chance to strategize our game plan.”
“I’m kind of in the middle of a deadline. What is it?”
I’m surprised by his tone. Did we not just have sex a few days ago? My heart drops to the vicinity of my bare feet. “I’ll make it quick. Listen, there’s a regional championship agility competition coming up, and I thought you might want to go. It could be good for a couple of your dogs to learn the agility course.”
“Are you asking me out?”
I use the same business tone he’s using. “Actually, I’d like you to see the training tactics and methods of other trainers up close. It never hurts to learn more than one modality.”
The line goes dead, and for a second, I think he hung up on me. If he’s pausing, it’s because he’s trying to come up with a reasonable excuse to blow me off. “I don’t know. I–”
I force a smile into my voice. “Come on, Mr. Crabby Pants.”
“Oh, so I’m Mr. Crabby Pants again?”
I continue to tease. “I just call it like I see it.”
Another long pause is followed by a chuckle. It’s small and doesn’t last long, but it was there. “When is it?”
I let out a relieved sigh. “Next Saturday.”
“Okay, sure.”
We say our goodbyes, and I hang up the phone. Is it a date? Kinda, sorta, maybe? I figure I’ll be able to spend some quality time with Landon and we can do something fun together. After that, I’ll see where things go. If it goes south, I’ll get some closure.
***
Landon and I walk into the building with Chili dancing on the end of his seafoam green leash. Stadium-style seating flanks either side of the course, and most of the bleachers are already full.
“Watch it!” Landon snaps at a man with long blond hair who almost steps on Chili.
“Sorry, dude,” the man says. “Chillax why don’t ya?”
Landon takes a deep breath. I stare into the depths of his eyes and see his temper flaring again. I wonder if he lacks self-control. I wonder if he’ll ever turn that out of control emotion on me.
“Calm down, it’s okay,” I insist. “Our seats are over here.”
“Why can’t people watch where the hell they’re going?” Landon shakes his head as I guide him to the bleachers. “I should’ve left Chili at home, but I’m afraid of what he might destroy next. And I’d put him in a crate, but whenever I try it, this little guy chews on his paws. Is crate anxiety really a thing?”
I chuckle. “It is for sure. Come on.” Landon picks up Chili, and we climb over a bunch of onlookers until we get to our assigned seats in the fourth row.
“Chillax? I should’ve punched that idiot in the face just for saying that.”
I don’t want to encourage Landon’s adversarial behavior, but I can’t help but snicker a little. That guy definitely exuded a hippy vibe, complete with beanie and dreads.
“Are you hungry? I can get us some hot dogs or something,” he offers.
“No thanks, I’m fine.”
He pauses and stares at me. “No offense, but this isn’t the first date I had in mind.”
“Oh really?” I look at him, and our gazes lock. I want to kiss him on the lips, but I decide to kiss his cheek instead.
“But I guess anyplace will do as long as it’s with you.” He pats
my knee affectionately. Chili barks and cuddles up on my lap.
I smile at Landon since talking is ill-advised over the loud music blasts from the speakers. Suddenly, two terriers dressed in colorful clown outfits run around the arena. Their antics delight the large crowd, especially the kids who point and giggle.
“Aren’t they cute?” I say.
Landon winks. “You’re the cutest thing in this room.”
The announcer, a tall man with a thick mustache steps into the middle of the arena, “Welcome everyone to the Midwest Annual Regional Championship Agility Competition! Let’s give our warm-up act, Bucky and Desi, a big round of applause!”
The terriers circle around together one more time and run out of the arena. I clap with enthusiasm, but Landon just stares like he’s never seen anything like it.
“We’ve got an exciting program for all you dog lovers out there. Just watch!” The announcer extends his arms, and five poodles walk into the arena with their trainers.
I recognize a few of them. “Watch this.”
“Okay,” Landon says, but I can tell he’s really not that interested. I start to regret bringing him here. Maybe we just don’t have enough in common to even try to make a go of it. Maybe he’s going to be my only one-night stand. That thought causes my stomach to flip over with anxiety. I’m not that kind of girl, but it seems that Landon’s turned me over to the dark side.
The trainers guide their poodles through the colorful obstacle courses including jumps, see-saw, tunnels, and poles. They use positive reinforcement techniques and are very attuned to the dogs. The audience claps and a few people take cell phone pictures.
The announcer says, “Aren’t they the most adorable things in the entire Midwest?”
I smile and turn to Landon. “See, these trainers don’t yell or scream and look at what those poodles can do. Not one of them missed even one pole during the pole weave. It’s amazing.”
“Chihuahuas are different,” he says. “I can’t see them running a course like that.”
“They change the height of the jumps and make all the necessary changes to accommodate the toy dogs. Any size dog can excel at agility with the appropriate training. Yelling and screaming doesn’t work for any breed.”
“Point taken.”
I smile and lace my fingers with his, wanting some kind of physical contact to warm the icy cold air lingering between us. When Chili wiggles to be let down, I put him on the floor by my feet. And immediately regret it when the little dog starts to rummage through the purse of a red-headed woman sitting directly in front of us. Landon yanks his hand away from mine and shouts. “Stop it! Bad dog! Bad!”
The woman turns around and glares at Landon. “You don’t have to raise your voice like that. It’s really not necessary.” She repositions her purse on the bench. “He’s not doing anything that horrible.”
Chili cuddles up to Landon’s leg and wags his tail. “He wants you to pet him.”
Landon takes a deep breath and rubs Chili’s back, barely touching him. “There. You happy?”
“No, like this.” I pet Chili all over, giving him a little doggy massage. He groans and eats it up.
“You know I’m not a dog person.”
“That’s what you keep telling me, but with a face this cute, it won’t be long before you have a change of heart.”
“Maybe with a face this cute.” He touches my cheek.
I refuse to let him distract me. “I’ll be right back.” I stand up, wanting to make a pit stop before the timed trial begins.
“Okay,” Landon says.
I make my way to the ladies’ room. There’s a long line, and I’m not a big fan of public restrooms, but it’s the price you pay for downing an entire bottle of water. After what seems like forever, I finally finish and wash my hands. The liquid soap is almost gone, so I have to pump and pump to work up a lather.
After I dry my hands, I make my way over to the food vendor. The high-calorie menu would make a health nut lose their shit. I don’t care. It’s the weekend, I intend to live a little. I order some nachos and two large Cokes. I think Landon mentioned the other day that he liked Coke. I know he loves loose-leaf tea, but only highly processed food and drink is available. We’ll have to be health conscious another day.
When I get back to our seat, Landon has a bewildered look on his face. “What is it? You don’t like nachos?” I ask.
“No, nachos are great, but why didn’t you let me treat you?” he says. “I’m feeling a little left out.”
“Shut up and share these with me,” I say, my heart fluttering at his effort to take care of me. If he wasn’t thinking of me in a romantic way, he wouldn’t care about who paid.
“They didn’t have loose-leaf tea, so I hope this will do.” I slide into the folding seat next to him and hand him the drink.
“Thanks.”
As we both dig into the nachos with cheese and sour cream, our fingers touch. An electric shock travels up my arm at the connection.
“These are surprisingly good.” I watch the column of his throat as he swallows. My tongue itches to dart out and lick his pulse.
“Yeah.” I force myself to look away.
The announcer speaks up. “And now, for the working dogs!”
I nudge Landon’s arm. “You remember Guy from the other day?”
His nostrils flare. “Yep.”
“His dog is participating today.”
Four dogs walk out with their trainers. Guy is front and center with his Great Dane, Roscoe. One-by-one, the dogs take on the training obstacles. I applaud for Roscoe when he leaps through the ring, completing a perfect run with a really fast time.
“He’s got great form, don’t you think?” I turn to Landon.
“Yep,” he says. His lips are pressed into a thin, white line.
The announcer says, “Just look at ‘em go! It’s plain to see why Roscoe is a Great Dane!”
All of the sudden, Chili bolts, ripping the leash right out of Landon’s loosened grip. The tiny dog takes off running down the bleachers. Landon jumps up, hurdling over people so he can give chase. “Stop it! Bad dog! Bad!”
I follow them because, if Chili makes it into the ring with the working dogs, a disaster could happen. Some working dogs view toy dogs as prey. I don’t worry about Roscoe, who’s trained to within an inch of his life, but I’m not familiar with the others or their handlers. For all I know, they could be aggressive. My heart flips over as I watch Chili jump into the arena, and in typical little dog fashion, goes after the biggest dog in the ring. He literally runs circles around Roscoe. Guy looks at the dancing, growling Chihuahua with a frustrated expression.
Landon and I step into the arena. I whistle. “Chili! Come!”
In all the commotion, I barely notice that Chili has something clenched between his teeth. My eyes narrow as I focus. Something white dangles from his drooling lips.
Holy Mother of God, it’s a tampon! Where in the hell did he come up with that?
“Bad dog! Bad!” Landon claps to get Chili’s attention, his face going a whiter shade of pale.
“What the hell did you train your dog to do, dipshit?” Guy snaps at Landon. “That’s just plain unsanitary.”
Landon hesitates. “I...”
“Looks like it might be that time of the month for Roscoe,” the announcer says with a chuckle. The whole stadium bursts into laughter. It reverberates through my ears, getting louder with each passing second. I hold my breath, certain that Landon and Guy are going to come to blows over this.
“You did this on purpose!” Guy glares at Landon, pointing at the tampon. Chili chooses that moment to trot over to Guy and dump the sanitary product right on top of Guy’s Italian loafers. I sigh. At least it’s not a used tampon.
“I didn’t, I swear–”
“Did you help train him?” Guy turns to me. “Brooke, I can’t believe you would drop the ball like this.”
I shake my head, my mouth falling open in surprise. “N
o, Guy, how could you even ask me something like that?”
The announcer laughs until he wheezes. The rest of the crowd stands and cheers as Guy’s face turns a deep purply-red. I’ve never seen him so upset.
“Lighten up a little,” I say. I know there’s no way in hell that Landon could’ve trained Chili to embarrass Roscoe with the tampon.
As I scoop up Chili and turn to leave, I wonder how this quasi-date could have gone any worse. This budding relationship is doomed. It’s that moment in the fairytale when despair takes over.
Chapter 14
Landon
I stand in the middle of the crowded arena. Everybody cheers, laughs, or points, and I’m glad the joke isn’t on me. The little terror who destroyed the most precious gift in my possession has finally done a good deed. He managed to bring that arrogant asshole, Guy Foster, down a few pegs. If I didn’t like Chili before, I do now.
I can’t think of anyone more deserving of a little very public humiliation than super douche, Guy. I can still remember the day he laughed at me and called me a pansy because I own Chihuahuas. For the first time ever, I’m the proud owner of those little fuckers!
I look at Guy’s red face and revel in his embarrassment and anger. I know that if we were in a bar, he would’ve already thrown the first punch. But what is he gonna do now in front of an audience that contains mostly families? He can’t hit me in front of all these kids and their dogs. He has no choice but to suffer through it like the good sport that he isn’t.
I glance at Brooke and notice her radiant smile has faded away. Maybe she doesn’t think it’s funny anymore. She already labeled me a douchebag once, and I never want to go back to that. I want her to see that, beneath my crabby pants exterior, I’m a good man. Most of all, I’m desperate to get to know her better and see where our relationship might go. After she stands there a few more seconds, her lips finally twist into a smirk of amusement as she flips her ponytail over her shoulder, tosses me a saucy wink, and walks toward me.
“This was an accident, Guy. Landon’s dogs are always doing stuff like this,” Brooke says. “They’re still only a few sessions into their basic training.” When she turns to me, I’m not sure what she’s expecting, but I’ll do anything for her. Anything. “Tell him.”
Crabbypants Page 15
