Home > THAT MAN 8 (That Man #8)(4)

THAT MAN 8 (That Man #8)(4)
Author: Nelle L'Amour

“Can’t we go any faster?” Blake’s patience level was thin. He seemed disgruntled. Eager to leave. “Let’s go out for a birthday brunch.”

“But, baby, we just got here. There are so many more dogs to see.”

I heard him grumble under his breath and reluctantly, he kept up with Tessa and me, dragging his feet behind him.

The shelter also housed other animals. Cats, bunnies, hamsters, and even a few birds. But most were dogs, the majority of them older pit bulls. Honestly, with their silky fawn gray coats and expressive light brown eyes, they were beautiful, but Blake had made it loud and clear that he didn’t want one.

“It’s imperative the dog we adopt is good with kids,” he told Tessa.

At least that made me feel good. Our desire to have children was a challenging one on account of my partial hysterectomy, but my beloved husband hadn’t lost hope. On that page, we were united.

“We’d also like a young dog, no older than a year,” he added.

“Why?” I asked, thinking about all the needy older dogs that might face euthanasia. Though this place prided itself as a no kill shelter, it still had limitations as to how long a dog could remain.

“Because it’ll live longer and be easier to train,” he answered matter-of-factly. “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

“That’s not necessarily true,” countered Tessa. “You’d be surprised by what an old dog can learn.”

I sided with our guide but said nothing. At least Blake expressed an interest in engaging with our potential fur baby. Growing more and more impatient, he excused himself to use the men’s room. I continued to walk up and down the aisles with Tessa, passing by all the dogs up for adoption.

My heart was getting heavier by the second, and the antiseptic smell of disinfectant combined with the cacophony of yelping dogs was making me queasy. No dog, no matter what the breed or age, belonged in a cage behind bars. Without a home. Without love. In my heart, I could hear each and every one of them crying out to me: Please take me home! Make me your forever fur baby! I felt tears verging as my pace slowed to a trudge.

“Are you okay, Jennifer?” asked Tessa, picking up on my growing gloom.

“Kind of. It just makes me feel so sad seeing all these poor abandoned dogs in cages.” My gaze took in a particularly sad, overweight Bassett Hound, his ears as droopy as both his eyes and his gut. “How do you manage to hold it together? I don’t think I could ever work here.”

Reaching inside the pocket of the aqua smock she was wearing, she stopped in front of the cage. “Here, Bosco,” she said, slipping a bone-shaped biscuit inside it. The dog immediately cheered up. Wagging his tail, he gobbled up the treat.

“Good boy!” My lovely dark-haired companion smiled. “It’s not as hard as you think. We are a no kill shelter and 99% of our rescues find a good home. I live in a building that prohibits dogs so I derive a lot of joy spending time with them here. They are all so sweet, and I’m so happy I can give them love and attention until they find a new forever home. And it’s a two-way street. They give me love back. This ‘job’ is so much more rewarding than my normal day job as a cashier—which I only do to make money. I’m trying to save up so I can one day go back to school and become a veterinarian.”

Her words warmed my heart and I instantly felt better. “That’s so awesome you want to become a vet. I hope your dream comes true.”

At that moment, Blake returned. He looked constipated. Not one bit happy.

“Jen, we should go. We can come back and check out the dogs in a few weeks.”

I felt his eagerness to leave in my bones, but I refused to oblige. I came here with a purpose, and that purpose was to go home with a dog. In my heart of hearts, I knew he—or she—was here waiting for me. I would recognize my dog when I saw it.

“Blake, you can go home, but I’m not leaving until I’ve seen all the dogs. I just know our fur baby is here.”

“Fine.” He hurled the word at me as Tessa led us to the last row of kennels.

And there he was! Inside the very last cage! Inky black, muscled, his expressive face glued to the bars. His big, beautiful chocolate brown eyes latched onto mine.

“Oh my goodness!” I gasped. “Who’s this?”

“Scout,” replied Tessa. “He just came in this morning.”

“Really?”

“He’s an eight-month-old Lab mix.”

“Oh, he’s just a baby!”

Tessa laughed. “A big baby! He weighs sixty pounds, but he shouldn’t get too much bigger.”

“What’s his story?”

“He comes from a very nice family with two young kids.”

“Blake, did you hear that? He’s good with children!”

My love furrowed his brows, suspicion etched in the crease between them. “Why did they give him up?”

“The husband is being transferred to a country abroad that won’t allow canine pets to be brought in. He’s been well taken care of, neutered, micro-chipped, and is up to date on all his shots. I was also told he’s housebroken.”

He was sounding more and more perfect with each word. Plus with his sleek shorthaired coat, he’d likely not require a lot of grooming. Or shed much. Excitement surged inside me.

“Hi, Scout!” Our eyes stayed locked and then he began to wag his tail. Followed by a sweet whimper as if he was saying hi back, his big pink tongue lolling out of his mouth. It reminded me of the strawberry taffy my parents used to buy me whenever we went on vacation to Lake Michigan. Such sweet memories.

“Tessa, can I spend a little one-on-one time with him?”

“Of course.” She bent down to unlock the ground-level kennel to let Scout out.

A few moments later, I was on my knees, hugging Scout as he licked my face. Oh God, this velvety, sixty-pound bundle of sweetness was giving me kisses! Delicious wet kisses! This was my dog! Our fur baby!

I knew it.

“Blake, I’m so in love with him! Please let’s make him ours!”

My husband pinched his lips, then blew out a sharp, resigned breath from his nose. His nostrils flared.

“Fine. Let’s fill out the paperwork.”

A half-hour later we were back in Blake’s Porsche. The top down. Scout squeezed next to me in the front seat. His head tilted back, his snout catching the wind, and enjoying every minute of the ride.

“Blake, this is the best birthday present ever!”

“Don’t thank me.” His voice flat, my husband kept his eyes on the road.

I didn’t read too much into his words and instead hugged Scout, happiness soaring inside me.

“Scout, sweetie, I’m your new mommy!”

How wonderful it felt to say that word.

Mommy.

 

 

Chapter 6

 

 

Blake


Anyone who knew me knew I loved to shop. I was a veritable shopaholic. Heaven to me was visiting a beauty supply store and stocking up on every moisturizer known to mankind. And don’t even get me started on going to the Westfield mall in Century City or walking down Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills. I could spend hours in the Apple Store or Best Buy and walk out with all kinds of crap I didn’t really need, and drop an easy fifty grand on a half-dozen new custom-made Brioni suits and matching accessories.

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