11. Brooks
11
Brooks
W here is that damn dog? I’m not even sure of the last time I’ve seen him. Hopefully, he didn’t get into something again. I am damn tired and sure as hell don’t have time to deal with a dog mess today. Maybe he ventured up to the house to beg for a snack. He does seem to do that more often these days.
I am pretty damn sure Gemma has something to do with that. She must be sneaking him food when I’m not around. Just like a woman to pull some shit like that without even asking if it is okay with the owner.
As I stomp up towards the front yard of the old farmhouse, I hear a singsong voice floating out from the porch. I know in an instant that it is Gemma, but I have never heard her voice that soft and sweet sounding. Who in the world is she talking to? I decide to find out. But as soon as I get near the house, I spot her.
She is sprawled out on the big porch with my huge golden retriever in her lap. She is talking to him and running a pink comb through his hair oh so gently. A pile of burs and gold hair is on the aging wood beside her right leg. So he had gotten into something. Why had Gemma not come to get me out of the field? Anyone else would have at least blown up my phone to tell me my damn dog was a mess.
Gemma looks up and I blurt, “Where did that comb come from?” instead of something nice about what she is doing for my dog. What an ass. Maybe my mom is right, and I don’t know how to treat women.
Startled, Gemma replies, “Oh umm, this is mine. I wasn’t sure where to find a dog brush and he was such a mess. I was afraid the longer these stayed in his hair, the more likely they would have to be cut out. I know how busy you get out there, so I decided to do it myself. Hope you don’t mind.”
I don’t know what to say. Hope you don’t mind? She went completely out of her way, so I didn’t have to come out of the field for my dumb-ass dog, and she hopes I don’t mind. I surprise myself with a flash of anger. What fuckface in her hometown made her feel like that? Well, hell, am I any better with the way I stomped around and said where did you get that comb instead of just saying thank you. Probably not.
“No,” I stammer. “No, I don’t mind. I mean, thank you. You didn’t have to do all that. I probably would have just shaved his dumb ass.”
Gemma leans over Ace protectively. “No! His long hair is so beautiful! I had to save what I could of it!”
I just laugh. Damn dog got lucky. No one else would have saved his skin and spoiled him to boot.