Page 22 of One Bossy Date
“Only if he wants to hurt you.”
Oh. Did that mean they would protect me? Maybe there was an advantage to dogs after all.
“When I say no good, I’m talking about things like shredding papers. Examining the garbage for edibles and spreading it over the kitchen floor.”
I thought for a moment. “It sounds like what they need most of all is to be kept engaged.”
Anders nodded. “There’s a number of games that I’m about to show you. That way the guys bond with you and vice versa while you keep them busy.”
It wasn’t soooooo different to cats. Except for the size difference, of course. “I really wasn’t prepared for two dogs, no—two massive dogs,” I eyed Anders at my side, “but I guess these guys make it easier to stick around.”
“That’s good to hear. I’m glad you stuck around. I didn’t think you would.”
“You didn’t?”
“I figured you a rather volatile person.” He sounded serious, and I wondered if he even realized that he’d just offended me.
I scoffed and turned to look at him full on, with my hands still caressing the boys’ heads.
“And I figured you a friendly person when you first entered my shop.”
“I’m just being honest,” he said, taking no offense at my words.
It only aggravated me further.
“Well, if we’re being honest, I’m truly surprised that you even offered me your expert guidance in taming these beasts.”
“Hey. That’s adorable beasts, Missy.”
Up close like this, I could really see him for the first time—his freshly shaven cheeks, impossibly perfect jawbones, and the slight crow’s feet at his eyes, as well as the almost imperceptible graying hair at his temples that gave Patrick Dempsey a run for his money. And his mouth! Those kissable lips!
If not for his attitude, he would’ve had me hanging on his every word. My irritation dissolved immediately. “Yes, they certainly are adorable, if you like playing with fire,” I said. Their wagging tails sped up and their mouths widened in happiness, tongues falling out. “Oh, look. They’re smiling.”
“Yeah.”
When my gaze shifted to Anders, he was smiling too. Not cheekily, lopsided, or sarcastically, but genuinely. He loved these two more than anything, I could tell.
The sight was heartwarming, and I kicked myself internally.Snap out of it! Remember, he insulted your favorite coffee! He’s “not a cat person.” He’s impatient and moody. He’s overly honest…and clearly, deep inside, also kind. When he wants to be.
I hated to admit that I felt the ice melting.
Perhaps Anders Windham wasn’t that bad after all.
* * *
“Hey, girl! That took longer than expected.” Jim was elbow-deep in soapy suds when I arrived at the boutique. Standing in the doorway of the grooming room, I watched him battle one of our regulars, who was wailing her heart out, eager to end this watery business. Poor Hannibal had a (non-contagious) skin condition, and the vet had prescribed a weekly bath for him. We would never have forced him through this tormenting procedure otherwise.
“Jim, you have no idea what I’ve been through this morning.”
“Did you get your pussy ate?”
“Huh? No! Of course not. I mean…no.”
“Uh-oh…I sense another freak-out coming.” He spoke only slightly under his breath, still intending for me to hear. “Stay calm, girl.”
“No, listen.” My voice grew higher. “I just have one hell of a story to tell. I’m not freaking out—anymore.”
“Well, I love me some story time. Give it to me, hon.” He finally canted his head over his shoulder to see me in my Eminem outfit. “Wait. What the fuck are you wearing?”