Page 281 of Daddy's Pride

Chapter 12

North

Juan leaned against the side of my truck, grinning as he watched the pup Owen had saved hobble around my front yard, her tail wagging happily.

“Canela?”

Cinnamon? I squinted at her, trying to see it. “You really think she’s red enough for that?”

“Eh,” he said, waggling his hand back and forth. “More brown. You’re right. But how about Pepita then?”

“Isn’t that what you call your cousin Josefina?”

Juan shrugged. “Sure, but they’re both short and stubby so…”

I laughed. “You’re lucky I’m a good enough friend not to tell your cousin you said that.”

“What, it’s true!”

“And again, I’ll be a good enough friend not to tell her you said that. You’re welcome.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s still a good name. You guys can’t keep calling her Stumpy. It isn’t right.”

I grinned. As far as I was concerned, anything that made my boy smile was right. “Take it up with Owen. He says she might as well own it. Besides, he insists it’s just a nickname until we find out her real one, so I’m not sure you’ll get very far.”

Juan cocked his head to the side, giving me an assessing look. “Oh? And have you had any responses to the missing pet notifications?”

“Not yet.”

“Hm.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He threw up his hands. “What? I just said hm!”

“It’s not what you said, it’s how you said it.”

No way was I buying the exaggerated show of innocence. He had an opinion, and he wasn’t going to leave until he’d shared it.

He’d come by to return a grill I’d loaned to the Ruizes for his abuela’s ninetieth birthday party, and normally, that would mean the two of us sat around with some beers and shot the shit for a while. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t getting a little antsy to send him on his way so I could go back inside and check on my boy.

Owen had just taken a call from the insurance adjuster when Juan showed up, and while I knew he was more than capable of handling that—although I’d had to bite my tongue more times than I could count to keep from telling him my opinion of the way his parents treated him like an unpaid property manager—I didn’t want him to have to do it alone.

I didn’t want him to ever have to do anything alone again.

Not if it stressed him out.

Not unless he wanted to.

I had no doubt at all that Juan could tell I was getting a little restless for him to get in his damn truck and head out already. We’d been friends for more than half my life, and sometimes it felt like he knew me better than I knew myself.

But I knew him, too, and not only did he enjoy goading me, he wasn’t going to budge until he said whatever he’d really come to say.

And it definitely wasn’t just “hm”.

His devilish grin proved me right. “I’m just wondering, hermano, when you’re going to admit that the dog isn’t going anywhere and give her a proper name and a permanent home.”

I huffed out a laugh. “Again, you’d have to take that up with Owen.”