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He grins. “Let’s focus here, yeah?”
What the hell is wrong with me?
“Jesus, pup, sorry in advance. I’m pretty damn sure this is gonna hurt me more than you.”
The girls again giggle until the pup all but jumps in my arms when he touches her bum.
“It’s okay.” I hold her still, bending so we are nose-to-nose. “You just gotta let go.”
“How long do I need to do this?”
I stand up and take her leash. “You’ve given her a reminder. Now, we walk and hope it works, or Hudson here might get his chance to throw a finger?—”
“Nope. No. Not happening,” Hudson says.
Walking with Rome beside me, I look down at her. “You should consider getting her a harness. It’ll give you more control and lessen the chance of a neck injury. She’s going to get pretty big. She’ll need?—”
“How big?”
“The Great Pyrenees breed grow to between eighty-five and one hundred fifteen pounds.”
He inhales a deep breath then exhales.
“Your brother said she’s part retriever, and they can grow up to eighty pounds. I also see American pit bull terrier in her, which get to be about sixty-five pounds.”
“Pit bull?” His reaction is typical and annoying, which I can’t fault him for.
“They have a bad rep. Media sensationalism. Historical use of breeding them for fighting dogs because they’re strong as hell. It’s stereotyping. What you hear about is mostly due to irresponsible ownership. You take the time to raise her right and make sure she gets enough love and exercise, and she’ll be a great member of your family.”
We stop as the pup sniffs around.
“There you go. Right there’s a good spot.” He starts to squat down.
I grab his elbow, and he looks at me.
“Sorry.” I let go. “Giving her positive praise after would be more effective.”
“Right,” he says with a ghost of a smile playing on his seriously hot face.
I break eye contact and look down, seeing that she’s doing her business.
I hand him the leash. “My work is done here.”
“Should I expect a bill in the mail?” he calls after me as I walk away.
“This one’s on the house. Just make sure you bag it up.”
“I owe you, Red.”
I like the sound of that—way too much.
Rounding the garage, I see Francesca and Fawna walking out the door with their belongings in hand. “Are you guys leaving already?”
They look at each other then at me.
Francesca’s the one to speak. “I had a, um … client call and need to go grab some information for them.”
Fawna stammers, “And I, um … I?—”
