Chapter VI A Dog’s Dinner （Brady）
VI
A Dog’s Dinner
(Brady)
Under ordinary circumstances, the lab lights me up like nowhere else.
It’s the place where the future unfolds, and that makes me feel more at home than—well, home.
No matter how nice my condo is, everyone thinks they can drop by and interrupt my flow. Ungirlfriends (Nancy Loomer), my mother, old friends, and cousins who pop in a few times a year.
If I don’t want to be seen, there’s nowhere to hide.
My parents’ house hasn’t felt like home, either, not since I came back from serving Uncle Sam.
It may be beautiful, but it’s stuffy, all old-world money and suffocating obligations. Imposing as hell and cut from an age where the wealthy in Seattle rubbed it in with the biggest castles and flashiest cars imaginable.
It’s also the place where their rules and expectations reign.
If I don’t follow them to the letter of the law, they bring consequences crashing down on my head like an avalanche.
It’s easier to avoid it entirely, unless I have a good reason for showing up.
Then there’s the lab.
It’s this small local place, looking more like a college lab than a state-of-the-art facility for world-class R&D. I contracted them with my vet nutritionist to help formulate my test products a few months back, and ever since, I’ve found myself damn near living there some days.
Luis is with me today, too, frowning over the notes we’ve been given.
“Any questions?” The lab tech, Grace, a lanky brunette with serious eyes and a ponytail pulled tight across her head, looks at me expectantly.
“Heirloom grains?” Luis asks.
“Mostly barley. A little goes a long way for a dog’s gut health, supposedly,” I say shortly.
“It also pads the calorie content and possibly balances the flavor profile. Anything packaged for storage inevitably loses a little.” Grace smiles, but I note the missing confidence in her voice.
Great. Nice knowing she thinks we’re making progress.
As I said, under normal circumstances, the lab is my favorite place.
But when we’ve been pushing our brains to their limits to make the pet food affordable, palatable, and marketable, it’s a tight balance. It feels like a place where dreams go to die.
Maybe that’s a little overdramatic, but it’s exactly how I feel.
Without warning, Lena crowds my brain.
The way she felt in my arms as she buried her head in my chest—this iron woman suddenly a naked cactus without her thorns.
Then I had to open my dumb fucking mouth and shit up everything.
The raw anger in her eyes.
The ugly emotion boiling out behind her beauty.
The scorn I deserved after I betrayed her trust.
What was I thinking?
She’s combative by nature and guarded as hell. Maybe if she wasn’t so standoffish to begin with, I wouldn’t be so bothered.
Hell, I like the way she fights for her passions. The clinic means a lot to her, and the second after its dilemma broke her in front of me, I put my entire shoe up my ass.
Those eyes.
Those big, brown, beautiful eyes, spinning with disappointment.
That fucking hurt, and yes, I’m keenly aware there’s no one else to blame.
I wouldn’t pretend to date me for a million dollars either.
Jackass idiot.
I deserved far worse than the way she stormed out like I lit her on fire. Plus, the awkward looks from the bartender and the patrons around me.
Maybe they saw a clueless donkey sooner than I did, bleating selfish promises at a woman he barely knows like he’s the miracle in life she’s been waiting for.
Luis looks at me sharply and clears his throat.
I forget he can read my mind. He’s the only one who knows about that disaster, and he’s spent enough time around me to know how fuckups eat me alive.
“Right,” I tell Grace, my brain filling in the parts of the conversation where I zoned out. “If they’re ready, bring the dogs in. We’re not getting anywhere if they don’t like it.”
“Coming right up!” She heads for the door to the back room, and I lean against the chrome table.
“Bad date still got you down?” Luis asks dryly.
I shoot him a dirty look.
“You can always come back another day,” he adds.
“No. We have to see if this works.”
Goddamn, I hope it does.
“The sooner we can check off our formula, the faster it goes into production.”
He nods, looking unconvinced. He has a sixth sense for a hell of a lot more than just driving and organizing my life. Somehow, he always knows when I’m bullshitting.
Although this time, I’m hopeful. We’re teetering on the edge of a breakthrough.
Like Grace, though, I’m not sold on the heirloom grains being our missing piece.
But before I can mull over that too long, the door opens and three happy dogs pile in. They’re all golden retrievers with enormous appetites. If this works, we’ll extend our taste trials to some other breeds.
After the dogs sniff my hand and settle in, they cautiously eye the bowls placed down for them.
There are three small bowls for each dog in separate wooden holders. Two of the three bowls contain food from established organic brands, and the last is ours, arranged for each dog in a different order.
I’m breathless, watching their mouths go to work.
The first dog is a machine, wolfing down two bowls—until he’s left with the third. He slows down and sniffs forever before taking a bite.
Fucking great. I have a nasty suspicion it’s ours, even if I can’t see the markings well from here with the dogs in the way.
The other two retrievers eat slower, stopping when there’s one bowl left for them. Their tails wave slowly, like they’re unsure but happy because it’s food.
Dogs. Gotta love their simple emotions.
Despite everything, I smile.
But that smile slides right off my face when the two uncertain dogs stop eating after two bites and walk away with the last bowl half full. Meanwhile, the big girl who scoffed down all her food starts hacking.
Shit.
Swallowing a growl, I drag a hand through my hair. “Since when are dogs such connoisseurs?”
“Since they were born to eat the same stuff twice a day.” Grace smiles kindly.
“It’s the protein content, isn’t it? Still too low, and it saps the flavor. Possibly makes it too dry too.” I walk over to the hacking dog, now licking her chops, and gently pat her back. “Sorry, girl. You’ll get some chicken treats for your trouble when they take you back.”
“Yes, well, it might add flavor, but it would add to the cost. I’m sure you know,” Grace says with a sigh. “I’m not sure there’ll ever be an easy way around adding more protein to make it more appetizing, Mr. Pruitt. And that’s bad news for the cost analysis and your pricing targets.”
Dammit, she’s right.
I feel like I’d have an easier time solving the world energy crisis than inventing a dog food formula that’s tasty, cheap, and healthy. When I got into this game, I didn’t think I’d need superintelligence to solve it.
Then again, that’s why there’s the gap in a very crowded market. No one else has figured this out.
“Okay,” I say. “As always, thank you for your time.”
“We’ll keep at it, Mr. Pruitt. I’ll touch base with the nutrition team again, of course. That’s what you pay us for.”
“I know you will. Thank you, Grace.” I give her a quick wave as she leads the dogs out, then Luis and I head back to the parking lot.
“That went well, man. I thought that poor dog was about to barf on your shoes,” Luis says with a laugh.
“Noted. Add an interview for a new assistant to my schedule,” I throw back.
He laughs harder. “What will you tell your folks about how it’s really going? Or do you want me to help cover?”
“They’ll ask, but you can keep yourself out of the fire this time, Luis.”
Dad always demands updates.
I hate that he has good reason, because I’m leaning on his farms.
Still, that’s not why the man is a bulldog, demanding to hear about the latest tests and scowling I told you so, you damn idiot without uttering a word.
Sometimes he erupts, threatening to send me packing as much as he’s threatening his damaged heart. He swears it’s a good business lesson or some shit, but I know it’s all petty outrage.
He also knows he needs me to give up on this gig on my own, without them pushing. Then I can settle into being the full-time, pristine face of Pruitt Ag with two kids for background and a wife I can’t stand in between sunset cruises on the yacht.
Just like he wants.
Just like his boring damn life.
“You can stall them out, you know,” Luis suggests.
“Not for long. Dad owns a huge chunk of the organic farming sector in the Pacific Northwest. Lots of smaller farms answer to him too. If I don’t tell him why I’m changing the formula again, he’ll call up any farm I’m working with and ask.
Hell, he might do it anyway for spite.” I kick at a rock and dig my phone out of my pocket, buzzing with notifications.
Instagram DMs.
Not unusual, but the face on one profile hits me right in the gut.
Lena.
You stupid selfish prolapsed asshole, her latest message reads.
Accurate.
But there’s more—a long chain of messages as I skim down, each more vulgar than the last at a glance.
Damn.
I don’t know what I’ve done to make her madder since last night. I figured I’d never see her again after that.
“Hold up,” I mutter to Luis as we wait for the car.
He scrolls his emails as I dig through the full chat, trying to catch up.
There’s more name-calling. A lot of name-calling.
Tons of newly invented curse words that would make a fifteen-year-old gamer blush, followed by demands to know what the hell I’ve done.
I don’t understand.
You want to enlighten me? What’s going on? I text back.
Corbin Daniels, my auxiliary driver, pulls up with a Suburban and parks on the curb. As Luis and I climb in, I show him the messages.
“I don’t get what I’ve done to make her so livid.”
“You don’t already know?” He looks at me, almost wincing.
“If I knew, would I be asking?” I stare back flatly.
“Here. I’ve been watching it unfold all morning. I didn’t want to say anything before the test. Don’t shoot the messenger.” He passes me his phone with an article pulled up.
So, Benny’s wasn’t the best place to meet, after all. I thought it’d be fine and we’d melt into the crowd, nice and anonymous.
But I still have times where I forget some people just can’t get enough of Brady fucking Pruitt. And somehow those people found me, which means they found Lena too.
My gut sinks as I flick through the photos.
There’s me on the barstool, leaning into her with a smile and an espresso martini in my hand.
Her taking a sip from her drink. Gesturing.
And then the moment where we’re hugging and she’s crying out her soul.
Fuck.
There are so many pictures of that. One single point of contact, and it’s everywhere.
People thrive off making assumptions if you’re attractive and the least bit famous. When their own lives don’t have enough excitement, they need to borrow mine.
Whatever the motives, the result is the same.
That damn heartfelt hug is plastered all over social media now.
Not just Instagram, but TikTok, X, everywhere.
There are even videos with a so-called body language expert analyzing everything, and three bad lip readings.
I’m so fucking cooked.
“Buddy, this is bad,” I whisper as I scroll the rest with my lip curled.
“Yup.”
I squint at him, wondering at the last time his bluntness was useful.
Then my phone buzzes again, probably with Lena’s reply.
There’s nothing I can think to say. There’s truly nowhere in this city safe from prying eyes.
I hate that a devious little devil on my shoulder sees opportunity. If I were every bit the bastard she thinks I am, I could use it to draw her in, to shoot my shot one more time.
This is the push she needs to really consider my offer when half of Seattle already thinks we’re together.
But I can’t.
I fucking won’t.
Waving a fat paycheck in her face while she was hurting was bad enough. A movie-villain, dick move.
Doing it after I’ve made her infamous?
No.
Luis has been with me long enough to read my face. He drums his fingers against his knee, thinking.
“You’re not going to ask her again, are you?” he finally says.
“I’m not a monster.”
“So, what will you do, boss? There’s more to worry about now than your folks pushing Nancy on you.”
Sighing, I pull out my phone. She’s sent the worst of the pictures directly to me with a series of emoji and question marks.
“I’m going to meet her. ASAP, on neutral ground, like a local park,” I snarl. My fingers punch the screen as I type a message. “Somehow, we’ll dig our way out of this. I just need a chance to make it right.”
Somehow.
Luis’s heavy sigh tells me I might have an easier time moving Mount Rainier.