Page 16 of It's Mother-Pucking Christmas!
“Puppies!” her younger siblings cried.
“I wouldn’t recommend getting a cat with those two puppies,” Steph told the family. “That might be setting all the animals up for failure.”
The mom looked between her kids guiltily.
“Look, there’s Ryder O’Connell.” The little boy tugged on the tween’s skirt then raced to Ryder. “Look! He’s here, and he’s real! A puppy and Ryder. This is better than Christmas. I don’t even need a list for Santa.”
“Ugh. Who cares about hockey?” The tween rolled her eyes.
“Very few people not residing in cold climates,” Ryder told her mildly.
That earned him another eye roll.
“So they get whatever they want?” Abby snapped at her mom. “Cool, cool. Just take the dogs, and let’s go.”
“Maybe an older cat that’s good with dogs?” Ryder suggested to the shelter worker, who made a face.
“That’s against our policy. Maybe at the next adoption, when the puppies are older, you could adopt a cat?”
“The puppies will be fun,” the dad begged his oldest daughter.
The third chubby puppy stumbled up to the girl, climbed on her boot, and flopped down, sprawled out. Then his tongue lolled out, and he licked her boot buckle and wagged his stubby tail.
You could see the mask crack in real time. Abby gave in and bent down. The puppy nosed her fingers.
“Do you want a puppy?” her mom asked anxiously.
“Heisblack.”
The puppy wiggled his round bottom happily and licked her hand like she was his best friend. The girl giggled. “Okay, I mean if no one else wants him, I guess,” she said, cradling the puppy.
“What are you going to name him…” The family, arm in arm, drifted off to sign the paperwork.
Ryder stared after them.
I finally knew what that expression was—longing.
He swallowed hard and looked down at the husky. “See? Shape up, and that will be you soon,” he told the dog. Ryder seemed a little sad.
“Hey, you got three dogs adopted,” I said, suddenly wanting to cheer him up.
“He did better than that,” a shelter worker said. “He’s helped us clear out eighty-five percent of the kennels today! And we hadsomeone ask about Dasher. They’re going to take him on a test walk, see how he does.”
“Awesome news!”
“This could be your lucky day. Don’t blow it,” Ryder warned the dog, who was wigging out now that the shelter worker had snapped a leash on his collar. Ryder knelt down in front of Dasher. “Good luck out there, okay?” The big hockey player gave the dog a kiss on the snout. He seemed tired when he stood up, the skin around his eyes tight.
“Go on a date with me,” I said abruptly.
That was enough to shock him out of the melancholy.
“A date?” He frowned. “Girls don’t ask guys out on a date.”
“I think they have to if the guy can’t get his shit together, Boy Scout.”
“Why do you want to go on a date with me?” he asked, turning away.
I followed the muscular back. “I don’t.”