Chapter 6

Landon

When Brooke thrusts the dogs’ leashes into my hand, I follow her across the lawn toward the driveway, and I watch her curvy back as it slides behind the wheel of her Honda. Part of me feels regret for being an asshole, but another part of me enjoys the fact that I’ve scared her away with my growling. It’s better this way. She doesn’t deserve to be forced to hang out with me either.

After a few seconds, I realize that it has nothing to do with my personal life. Or hers. She was here to control the ankle biters, and I’ve completely fucked that up. Now, who’s going to be able to help me? Maybe I can call someone from the U of M in the animal behavior department. Too bad I had the perfect solution in the palm of my hand, and instead of cradling it like a Fabergé egg, I slammed it down onto a cement floor.

Things were going okay until she happened upon my storage shed and freaked out over a couple hundred boxes of cookies. What the hell? Somehow, we had even gotten past the mortification of Burrito finding my neighbor’s extra small used condom in the trash only to have damn cookies shoot our fragile connection all to hell.

Another flaming hot wave of shame envelops me. One that I can’t shake this time. I hope she believed me when I told her the little shit had filched the condom from the neighbor’s trash. First off, it was the wrong fucking size! There’s nothing extra small about yours truly. Second of all, I haven’t had sex in…I don’t even like to think about how long it’s been.

Because it’s been years.

By choice, I have been celibate since Carla passed away, but that doesn’t mean I don’t yearn for someone to hold. I miss the kissing, the cuddling, the way it feels to go deep inside a woman, so deep I touch her soul. And not just any woman. The right woman. The kind of woman I feel pulled toward, just like I’m pulled toward Brooke.

And I’ve somehow fucked that up.

Here I am standing a few feet away from a gorgeous woman who I just want to take into my arms and kiss. But Brooke is so furious that she isn’t even making eye-contact with me. And she’s about to leave.

I think back to my infamous grocery store fiasco over the damn Thin Mints. If someone would’ve recorded it, the video surely would’ve gone viral. I didn’t mean to be an ass, I was just running short on patience that day. And I wasn’t even yelling at the little girls. It had been their pain in the ass leader who’d triggered me with her smart mouth.

I exhale a breath and ignore the dogs jumping up on my legs. Carla always kept me balanced. Without her, it’s been difficult to navigate challenging social situations.

Now, I’m literally chasing Brooke like a lost puppy or a pesky Chihuahua to be exact. “Brooke!”

“What!?” she snaps.

“You’re not leaving, are you?”

She ignores me and pulls out a bag, then gets out of the car and heads toward me. No, she heads toward the dogs, I correct. For them, she even gives one of her beautiful smiles. It fades when she looks at me again. “Which one is the hair-licker?”

I point to Taco, who stares at Brooke, the picture of innocence and sweetness. “Guilty as charged.”

“Taco, come!” She claps her hands.

Taco barks once but complies. She pets him as a reward. “There are a variety of things we can try. The most important thing is to be assertive but affectionate at the same time when giving dogs instructions. And consistency is king. They can’t get confused because their trainer is all over the board.”

“And how exactly is that done?” I make no effort to hide my skepticism. She sounds like she’s taken up a foreign language.

“Taco! You’re doing great, boy!” Brooke flashes a big smile as she stands up. At least she’s not threatening to hit me.

“Doing great at what? He’s not doing anything?”

“That’s the point. He hasn’t climbed you like a red oak or licked your hair since I’ve been here. I see that as progress.” Her gorgeous face twists into a grimace.

“Let’s see how long that holds up. You should see me when I get out of the shower.” I snap my mouth shut. I don’t want to come across as some pervert. Between the condom thing and this, our conversations have been highly unprofessional. “I mean, Taco likes freshly-washed hair.”

“You mentioned that, but we have to start somewhere. We can also try a clicker.”

“A what?”

“A dog clicker. It’s a popular training device. You click it when your dog does something right. Then, you reward him with a treat.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. You don’t understand! These dogs were spoiled rotten before I came here. They need some real discipline. As in screaming, in-your-face, boot-camp style training. That’s the only thing that’s gonna work. All the clicks and treats in the world wouldn’t make a damn difference.”

She places a hand on each curvaceous hip and juts her chin out in defiance. “If you have all the answers, why did you bother to call me?”

“I thought you could help out. I had no idea you would come here and suggest stupid shit like clickers.”

“Stupid? Are you kidding me?” Each incredulous syllable peppers me like a jagged rock.

“Yeah, it sounds stupid to me. I can’t help it.”

“I wouldn’t be here if your methods were so damn effective! You don’t have a clue what you’re doing.”

“Neither do you.”

“You still don’t get it. Dogs are a lot like humans. Yelling and screaming will get you nowhere. There’s a time and a place for tough love but only after a dog truly understands all the basic commands and has them mastered.”

“That’s not true. Yelling and screaming is highly effective, especially when it comes to bitchy women.” I can’t stop the words from escaping my mouth. I’m being an asshole. My attraction to her pisses me off more than I care to admit, even to myself. “It gets the fucking point across. All of that crap about catching more flies with honey than vinegar is just make believe for people who believe in fucking fairytales. You probably read that romance drivel on your Kindle every night before you go to bed.”

“You know what, Landon?” Her eyes are the color of tempests, flashing at me with stormy intent. “I really don’t like you.”

I laugh, but it resembles a sarcastic cackle. With each breath I take, Brooke crawls under my skin like a chigger, itching, and burrowing. But I can’t deny the fact that I’m still drawn to her. She looks beautiful, standing in the sunlight, surrounded by the little terrors who already seem to adore her.

“And you’re way out of touch with the real world. With your BMW and your career as a famous author, you have no clue about how to deal with people. Everybody is probably scared to death of saying the wrong thing around you. Well, I don’t give a damn what you do for a living or what kind of car you drive.”

“Excuse you?”

“I’m sure you heard me the first time.” I admire the way her pert nose turns upward as her nostrils flare. Unbidden, thoughts of kissing her on her full lips pops into my mind. “Look, Landon, Cole, or whatever the hell you call yourself, you’re the expert on writing, and I’m the expert on dogs. And trust me, they do not respond to yelling and screaming. Okay?”

“Aren’t you yelling and screaming right now, smarty pants?”

She growls low in her throat, and for some reason, it turns me on. “I’m raising my voice for emphasis, crabby pants. These dogs need affection, care, and understanding. They need consistent routines and training methods. They also need to be rewarded for doing the right thing. That’s what works. I’ve been doing this a long time. I ought to know.”

I can’t help but smile a little as she stands there, about five-foot-two of steaming woman. She’s feisty in the sexiest way. I love a woman who speaks her mind. My cock twitches, and I wish I had more time to examine the implications. It’s like a divining rod for a woman who hates my guts.

I take a deep breath. “Brooke, I’m not sure about all of this. I just don’t see how your methods will work at all.”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

“And by the way, dogs and people have absolutely nothing in common. All they do is eat, shit, and sleep. Oh, and breed.”

Her nostrils flare. “What are you talking about? There are plenty of people out there who eat, shit, and sleep in that order. And they do plenty of breeding.”

I shake my head and chuckle. “Those are not the kind of people I associate with. Do you?”

“No, but you’re wrong about dogs. They’re very intellectual. They have saved countless lives. With the right training, they’re capable of just about anything.”

“That’s a stretch.”

Her fists jam on her hips. “Have you ever seen a service dog help a blind person cross the street? Have you–”

I raise my hands. “Okay, okay, there may be a few exceptions, but that’s statistically insignificant. Most dogs have little to offer.” I point at the panting little fiends. “Especially those.”

“I think they’re great.”

“Have you ever met a dog you didn’t like?”

She ignores the implications, and I can hardly blame her. I hate myself right now. I can about imagine her unspoken thoughts about me.

“Sure, but that rarely happens.”

“Which speaks to my whole point.” As more epic douche words tumble from my mouth, I don’t even consider how I should just set down my shovel and stop digging. I also try not to notice how Brooke’s moist tongue darts to her bottom lip and slowly drags across it. Train wreck ahead, please brace for impact. “I think you love dogs too much to train them properly. I’m looking for a trainer who can really lay down the law.”

She crosses her arms over her perfect tits. “Is that so? Funny, my philosophy is there can never be enough love. Not for dogs. Not for anything. In fact, love is all there is.”

I’m down seven points in the final ten seconds. It’s fourth and goal from the one. I’ve got one more chance to score the tying touchdown. Instead, I pull out a lame running play and dash straight into a linebacker. “I think a guy might be better suited to do this.”

Her smile fades, and in that moment, suicide by drowning seems better than continuing this conversation. I eye my dock. If I could just get a running start down the slope in the backyard... “Are you trying to imply that I can’t teach dogs discipline because I’m a woman?”

I cringe and stutter like an idiot. “I-I…”

She glares at me. Her eyes are two blue pools of ice. “This is unbelievable! You are unbelievable!”

No. Actually, my douchedome is so fucking believable, my own mother would put her hand on the Holy Bible and swear to it. Time to start backtracking.

“I’m sorry, I know I put my foot in my mouth.”

“You certainly did.”

I wonder if I hit my knees and beg for forgiveness, if that would keep her here. I’m not immune to trying it. “I didn’t mean to–”

“I don’t need to do this. I really don’t. You’re the kind of client who is gonna be nothing but a pain in the ass. Business is great, by the way, and I don’t need your money.”

As she turns to leave…to leave me…I get an ache so deep inside I almost double over. She can’t leave. She can’t. “Wait a second, Brooke. Please!”

She takes off, my dogs bounding around her, I trail after her like a pathetic piece of shit who knows he’s wrong. Dead ass wrong. I know how badly I’ve fucked up, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why I’ve done it. I didn’t mean to say that she couldn’t do the job because of her gender. I don’t believe that for a minute. It’s clear that Brooke is amazing at what she does. Hell, the snowboarding bulldog shoves the proof right in front of me or any other doubter.

The only reason why I jumble my words in front of her is because she’s getting to me. In a feral way. In a visceral way. And now, she’s right. I’m not used to people sharing their opinions so openly. Especially not someone I’m so attracted to like Brooke.

I know I’m not Stephen King or John Grisham, but there are a lot of perks that come with being a famous author. Sometimes, when I drop my name I get upgraded from coach to first class. My comfy life excites me and satisfies me all at the same time. I know how blessed I am.

But I’m also insulated from the day-to-day minutia of working a day job. There are zero office politics when you just wake up, make a pot of coffee and work from home all day in your faded mustache pants. I never have to worry about the boss catching me on Facebook or goofing off. Hell, I am the boss.

What I say goes.

Except for right now. What I just said is akin to the verbal sinking of the Titanic.

When Carla was alive, I was even more sheltered from the outside world. She insisted on doing all of the grocery shopping, which incited my gratitude and relief. I hardly knew how to make a grilled cheese sandwich, scrambled eggs, or noodles with butter. But Carla could work wonders in the kitchen. I still miss her homemade lasagna.

Back then, there were stretches when I didn’t leave the house for weeks at a time with the exception of my early morning walks. Nothing like the cold air in your lungs to clear your head and start the day. It’s still a daily ritual for me.

These days, I’m forced to go out for food and basic necessities. Trips to the grocery store are not my favorite pastime. Hence, my juvenile, embarrassing, blow up over the Thin Mints. But you still can’t blame me completely for that one. What kind of Girl Scouts run out of Thin Mints?

Now, as I catch up with Brooke, I realize that I have ruined my chance to make a good impression on her.

“Brooke!”

It’s too late. She hands the leashes to me before getting in her car and firing up the engine. I glance down at Taco, Burrito, Chili, and Fajita, feeling any chance I had at peace in my household getting ready to drive away with the woman I just insulted to within an inch of her life.