Crabbypants

by Colleen Charles

  “I know, but you can’t get frustrated so easily. There are plenty more places to call.”

  “What if they’re gone for good?”

  “You can’t be so negative.”

  “If I never see those dogs again, I don’t know what I’ll do. Grandma Nancy will turn over in her grave.”

  “Landon, I’m not going to let that happen.”

  “It’s out of your control. That asshole Guy had it in for me from the start. But he’s right about one thing. It wasn’t his fault. The day he showed up at my doorstep to take the dogs, I should’ve cold-cocked him, and that would’ve been the end of it.”

  “No! Guy’s not like that. I’ve known him for a long time. He just really cares about animals, especially dogs. And if you would’ve hit him, you’d be sitting behind bars right now.”

  “Yep, and all I would have to look forward to would be a conjugal visit from you.”

  I smile. “They don’t do conjugal visits in the Super Max, which is where you’ll be.”

  He laughs at my teasing. “But seriously, I really appreciate everything you’re doing. I just hope it’s not a lost cause.”

  “Like I said, it’s only a lost cause if we give up.” I call the second animal rescue location.

  The man who answers the phone tells me that he doesn’t have any Chihuahuas either. I hang up and say, “No luck there, but I’m gonna keep trying.”

  Landon takes a deep breath. His forehead creases with worry and frustration. I want to reach out and smooth them away. Take his pain away. I should. But he holds me in place with his searching gaze, giving me comfort even when he’s the one on the verge of losing his shit. “Damn! Why did I have to spank Chili? What the hell is the matter with me?”

  I look into his eyes. I know that the answer to that question is complicated. But there’s no need to go into all of that right now. We need to focus on bringing the dogs back home.

  I tap my lips with my finger as an idea occurs to me. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before.”

  “What?” His eyes light up.

  “I need to search for Chihuahua breeders too.”

  “That makes sense. Who else would adopt four Chihuahuas at once? I feel stupid for not figuring that one out. Grandma Nancy was a breeder too. Very well-known and respected. Westminster and everything. Her office is covered wall to wall with ribbons and trophies.”

  “I remember.” I open a new tab on the browser and type in a search for breeders. I click on the first website. “I found one in Savage.”

  He smiles and waggles his eyebrows. “A ‘savage’ breeder, eh?”

  I chuckle as I call the phone number. A woman answers, “Hello?”

  “Hi, miss, do you breed Chihuahuas?” I ask.

  “Yes, I do as a matter of fact. I’d be glad to help you. Do you want one?”

  “Actually, my name is Brooke Kirkland, and I’m a local dog trainer.”

  “I don’t need any trainers, ma’am.”

  “No, this isn’t a sales call. I’m calling because my friend’s Chihuahuas were adopted from an animal shelter here in Prior Lake yesterday and I wanted to find out if you were the person who adopted them.”

  “Sorry, but it wasn’t me.”

  “Okay, thanks for your help.”

  “You bet. I’m friends with all of the breeders in the Midwest. If I hear of anything, I’ll get back to you.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that.” I give her my information and hang up the phone. “Another dead end.”

  “Are you sure? I was eavesdropping a little bit. That lady seemed to be holding something back. Maybe we should make the drive to Savage. It’s only a few minutes away.”

  “I don’t think she was lying. What would be in that for her?”

  “That’s because you’ve got such a positive outlook on life. You need to step over to the dark side. Then, maybe you’ll see people for what they really are.”

  “Are you always this cynical?”

  “Pretty much. Why did you even bother to ask?”

  I shake my head and call the next breeder. They don’t have Landon’s dogs either. I stay on the phone, trying more locations. None of them have any new Chihuahuas.

  “There is one more thing we can try,” I say.

  “What?” Landon looks defeated.

  “Do you have any pictures of the dogs?”

  “Yeah, a few. Why?”

  “Let’s post it on social media and see if we get a response.”

  “That’s really reaching, don’t you think?”

  “We can at least try it.”

  He takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

  A few minutes later, Landon uploads some cell phone pictures of the Chihuahuas on his laptop. I post them on several social media websites and a few blogs. We both add them to our Facebook page. We also take the opportunity to become “Friends,” but in all honesty, we’re so much more than that.

  “Okay, let’s see what happens.”

  “I’m not gonna get my hopes up.” He flashes me that tragic look again, and my heart sinks.

  “I understand that, but just don’t lose all hope.” I lean in close to him and steal a kiss for support and comfort. I’ll get his dogs back for him.

  I have to.

  Landon smiles a little bit which lightens the somber mood. “I’m sure you would never let that happen.” He runs his fingers through my hair before caressing my thigh. “Brooke, I want to make love to you.”

  I look into his eyes. I want him too. Damn! For once, I wish I didn’t have to go back to the training center, but I have a zillion appointments this afternoon. I’m booked solid, and it’s too late to cancel private sessions. Not to mention rude. “I’ll have to take a raincheck. I really have to get back to work.”

  “When can I see you again?”

  “Soon, I promise.”

  He smiles wide and winks. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

  Chapter 20

  Landon

  A shimmering full moon hangs low in the ebony sky, lighting the gently lapping waves of the lake. The old folks say that strange things happen when the moon is full, and I’ve always wondered if the wives’ tale held any truth. All four of the dogs were adopted. All four in one day. How in the hell did that happen?

  Brooke left a few hours ago. She’s a sweetheart for trying to help me track them down, but I’m disappointed. All of that searching turned out to be a waste of time. It’s almost like the little dogs have vanished into thin air.

  I walk into the kitchen. My stomach grumbles. I open the freezer and frown at the frozen dinner selections. There’s mushroom ravioli and herb roasted chicken. I close the door. No more of this frozen crap, I think as I reach for the Chinese carryout menu. But if I eat beef lo mein again, I might lose my mind.

  I put on my shoes and grab my jacket, heading for the door. The thought of Wendy’s crosses my mind, but I’m not really in the mood for that. I make my way the couple of miles to Bonfire. I can sit at the bar and not feel like a total loser.

  I park and get out of my car, taking in the night air. As I walk into the place, staring into the open-air firepit, Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing” blares from the speakers. Maybe it’s a sign for me not to give up on finding the dogs and making things official with Brooke.

  I slide into a high stool at the bar. A woman in her forties with a petite frame and bleach-blonde hair stands behind the bar. She walks over to me with a toothy grin. “What can I get for you, love?”

  I want to keep it light. No heavy liquor since I still have to drive home. “A Heineken please.”

  “Coming right up. Would you like to see the dinner menu?”

  “I already know what I want,” I say, “Can I please get the buffalo wings and fries?”

  “Sure thing, love.”

  “Thanks.”

  I watch two old-timers chew the fat a few stools down from me. I wonder what they’re talking about, ice fishing or poker. It’s always one thing o
r the other with these natives. It’s like a rerun of Grumpy Old Men.

  The bartender puts the beer on a napkin in front of me. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’ve never seen you before, love. New in town?”

  “No. I just don’t get out a lot.”

  “That’s a shame, handsome young man like you.”

  “Thanks.” I smile. Handsome? Young? This chick is going get a nice tip even if the food tastes worse than the frozen dinners in my fridge.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Landon.”

  “Well, I’m Sarah.”

  “Nice to meet you.” That was a stretch, but I attempt to be polite, keep my inner douche at bay. Besides, you should always be nice to the people serving your food.

  “I’m about to put my foot in my mouth, but here goes... I’ve got a cousin who’s single. She’s really easy on the eyes. And sweet as cotton candy. Maybe you might want to meet her?” She pulls out her cell phone and opens a picture of a brunette with a bright smile.

  The beautiful woman does nothing for me since I only have eyes for Brooke. “I’m kinda seeing somebody right now.”

  “I should’ve figured as much. All the good ones are taken.”

  “Who says I’m a good one?”

  She smiles. “I’ll be right back.”

  A few minutes later, Sarah returns with my wings. “Thanks.”

  After digging in, I wipe my messy fingers with a napkin and immediately feel self-conscious. I can tell that the guys in here never do that. I sip the beer, taking in my surroundings. This is probably good research for my next novel. I’m sure a few people have disappeared from this place.

  “Sarah, I’m sure people ask you for advice all the time,” I say.

  She smiles. “You must be a mind reader. What’s on your mind, love?”

  “The girl that I like. Correction, the woman I like, how do I know if she’s into me as much as I’m into her? It’s been forever since I’ve been single. I was married before. A…long time. I’m new to this whole dating thing.”

  “Let me guess, you just went through a messy divorce, and she took you for everything you had?”

  I nod. There’s no need to tell her about what happened with Carla.

  “I’ve been there. Twice. Divorce is a bitch. But every time I swore I would never get married again, I found myself right back in love. It always caught me by surprise too. Love does that.”

  “Yeah, but women are impossible to figure out. What if she doesn’t even like me like that? What if she just likes my dogs?”

  Sarah laughs. “What kind of dogs do you have?”

  “Chihuahuas.”

  “Those things are adorable.” She puts her hands on her ample hips and gives me a saucy wink. “She probably does love the dogs more than you.”

  I smile and nod, but the joke still lands in the center of my heart like a stabbing knife.

  “But you’re wrong when you say that women are impossible to figure out. It’s you men that make things so damn complicated. I bet you haven’t even told her how you feel.”

  “I told her that I like spending time with her and I said–”

  She throws up her hands. “What is she supposed to do with that? You know how many men have told me that they like my company only to drop off the face of the earth? I’m ashamed to admit the exact number to tell you the truth.”

  “I hear what you’re saying, but this is different. I’m pretty sure she knows how I feel.”

  “Men always talk about how they’re not mind readers. Well, news flash, women aren’t mind readers either. You’ve got to be clear when it comes to us too.”

  “I never thought about it that way. I don’t like this whole dating thing. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m really into her, but this shit is confusing. I keep reminding myself that we haven’t even known each other that long, to keep it in perspective. But these emotions…make it seriously hard to do.”

  “I bet if she was sitting right here, she would be just as confused as you are, and isn’t that a shame?”

  I grin. “You think so?”

  “You’re a real looker, and you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. I can tell that. Plus, you seem classy and put together.”

  I laugh and toss her a wink. “These are actually dentures.”

  “Sweetheart, I have enough experience with dentures to know your bullshitting. Are you employed?”

  “Yeah.” I don’t want to tell her about being a famous author. I feel like that would be bragging.

  “And you’ve got a job so you’re the whole package. If I was a few years younger, I wouldn’t let you go home by yourself tonight.” She winks.

  I flash a big smile. After I finish eating, I pay for my food and leave her a generous tip. I head back to the car with a new perspective on everything. All this time, I thought I was damaged goods, but to my surprise, I’m a great catch, at least according to the slightly aging Sarah. I can only hope that Brooke feels the same way.

  I drive home, thinking about how I need to let go of my negativity. It’s clearly been holding me back. When it comes to Brooke and the dogs, I have to try something different.

  The next morning, I head straight to Guy’s animal shelter. I’m ready to put the old saying into practice about attracting more flies with honey than vinegar to the test. I walk through the door.

  A white-haired woman sits behind the desk. She waves at me. “Welcome, how can I help you today?”

  “Hi.” I force myself to smile, but I can’t help but wonder if this is the stupid volunteer who didn’t fill out the proper paperwork when somebody adopted my dogs. Words fly into my throat begging to be released on an angry scream, but I swallow them back down. I’m making progress.

  “Yes, what is it?”

  “I…actually, I would like to make a donation.” I pull out my checkbook.

  “That’s wonderful. Guy will really appreciate this.”

  “By the way, is he around?” I write out the check for a thousand dollars and hand it to her.

  The woman’s eyes widen into saucers. “Thank you so much!” She pauses. “Wait, did you ask something about Guy?”

  “Yeah, is he here? I’d really like to talk to him.”

  “Guy is running late today. He’s had his hands full, taking care of these four crazy Chihuahuas he took out of an abusive situation. Isn’t that a riot? Who would harm a cute little Chihuahua, right? Asshole should be hung from his toenails until they fall off.”

  I manage to keep my composure as the reality of the truth settles.

  “But now, with your generous donation, we’ll be able to stop abusive assholes like angry Chihuahua man. Thanks again, Mr…” She glances down at my check. “Cole.

  “No problem, keep up the good work.” I make my way to the door.

  “Thanks again!”

  “You’re welcome.” I walk out as my head buzzes with the angry stings of thousands of murderous thoughts. I always had a bad feeling about Guy Foster, but I never suspected he stoop so low as to steal my dogs and hide them from me.

  All while lying straight to my face.

  Rage vibrates through me as I get into my car. I want to drive to that fucker’s house and punch his stupid face in. But the priority is getting my dogs back, and I know that resorting to violence will make all this shit even worse.

  My head feels like it’s gonna explode. I take several deep breaths to calm down. As I pull out of the parking lot, numbness settles in. On the drive home, I strategize my next move.

  Those aren’t just my dogs, they belonged to Grandma Nancy. She adored those little angels. I can still remember how much joy they brought to the sweet old woman…the woman who raised Carla as her own daughter. The woman who always accepted me, warts and all.

  Damn, I want Guy Foster to pay for this shit. But once again, it’s not about him at all. I just want to bring the dogs back home right now since I can imagine how frightened they are. I’ll de
al with that asshole later.

  Brooke told me he was a nice guy, but it seems he’s pulled the wool over her eyes. The whole town thinks he’s some kind of animal rescue hero, but I know he’s nothing but a big, fat, fucking liar. How could he look me in my eyes and tell me he had no idea where the Chihuahuas were? And that whole story about the volunteer who messed up the paperwork almost had me fooled. He damn near got away with it.

  No more.

  Chapter 21

  Brooke

  I sit behind the counter at Bark Buddies, sipping coffee from a Styrofoam cup. Since I was running late this morning, there was no time for me to swing by Target for my beloved soy macchiato. I have no choice but to make do with a pod and the Keurig.

  Christine opens the back door and tosses her rubber gloves into the garbage. Her purple highlights are long gone. Now, she’s got streaks of neon blue in her black hair. She smiles at me. “I just finished cleaning up the yard.”

  “Thanks. I’m sure it was pretty messy back there. Pam and I were training three Newfoundlands the other day.”

  “Those dogs are huge, just like their turds!”

  I laugh. “I really appreciate you doing that, Christine. Feel free to take a break.”

  She smiles and waves goodbye. “Thanks!”

  The door opens, and Landon walks inside. He looks so handsome despite the frown on his face. We share a smoldering look that curls my toes before I ask, “Hey, are you alright?”

  His frown deepens. “Not really.”

  Christine clears her throat since she stopped dead in her tracks the moment the bell over the door jingled someone’s arrival.

  “Oh, this is Christine, and this is Landon. He owns the most adorable Chihuahuas in the world.”

  “Used to, as in past tense,” he says, shaking her hand.

  “What happened to them?” Christine asks.

  “An evil bastard by the name of Guy Foster.”

  “You can’t be talking about the dude who has the animal shelter?” Christine’s face bunches up into a question mark.

  “Yeah, that’s him.”

  “All of Landon’s dogs were adopted, and the volunteer on duty didn’t fill out the proper paperwork,” I say. “Now, Landon has no idea who has his dogs.”