Chapter 7
CAT
It’s quiet in the barn. Most of the dogs are passed out after running all morning in the woods. Miles and Dane yip in their sleep, legs kicking.
The barn is lined with pens divided by squat wooden walls.
Old dog beds, blankets, and toys are scattered around each of the pens.
Some dogs seem to always sleep together, like the Chihuahua, Garlic, who always nestled into Shade’s thick fur.
Others find empty space to plop down on, usually near the space heaters.
Arlen squats over Daisy, the defiant beagle. The classic-looking hound is rolled over submissively while he clips her nails. Every time he squeezes the clippers, she whines a bit and struggles in my grip.
“It’s alright, girl,” Arlen hums. “Almost done. No one’s gonna hurt you.”
Poor little dog.
Arlen received her two months ago from a foundation on the east coast that’s been working to see beagles freed from labs where they’re used for animal testing. There were thousands of beagles in her facility. They choose the breed because of their docile nature.
How could anyone subject these innocent dogs to such torture?
Arlen, as big and growling as he is, handles her gently.
The dog whimpers but doesn’t try too hard to get free. I barely have to hold her.
“Such a good girl,” Arlen says. “So brave.”
When he’s finished, Daisy runs out of the barn, howling excitedly before she heads off into the woods.
“That one is a handful. Beagles always are,” Arlen laughs, sliding the clippers into his tool belt. “But she’s come a long way. Damn good dog. None of them deserve what those fuckers put them through.”
His hands ball into fists. If someone responsible for those poor dogs being raised in labs was here right now, I have no doubt he would beat them within an inch of their life.
I squeeze his hand. “She has a good life now.”
Arlen nods, but there’s rage left smoldering in his gaze.
It’s Monday, two days since I arrived.
My boss sure was pissed when I called in sick this morning. I told him it’s the flu, and I’ll likely be out all week.
The truth is, I’ve never felt better.
I simply don’t want to leave.
“You’re living my dream, Arlen,” I say, grabbing the brush he uses on the huskies. Shade steps up proudly, ready for his grooming. “You get to help so many of them. I see all that stuff about the labs on the news, and there’s nothing I can do. I’d adopt Daisy in a heartbeat if I could.”
“I just wish I could do more,” Arlen says. “Dogs are the only things that have ever been good to me.”
“What about your fellow Marines?”
“Devil Dogs,” he says with a smile. “I count them among my canine companions. The only friends I’ve ever had.”
Arlen sets to work refilling bowls of water with the hose he ran out from the back of the house.
It’s a chilly day. He’s wearing a crew-neck sweater, jeans, and a beanie that keeps slipping off his head.
I could watch him work for hours, finding new obsessions in the way his body moves.
As he works, dogs randomly come over for attention that he never fails to give them.
“What about me?” I ask, absentmindedly brushing huge tufts of fur off of Shade’s butt. “Am I good to you?”
Arlen stops, the hose hanging in his hand.
“You’re everything to me.”
And he says it so resolutely, with such stern conviction, that there’s no doubt in my mind that he means it. Last night, he showed me. I felt the power of his body. The way he would grab me. How he tossed me around. Every kiss. Every amazing thrust .
No one will ever give me that again, not in this lifetime.
“We’ve known each other for two days,” I laugh, tossing the brush aside. “I called out of work for the week. I have no intention of going home today. Or tomorrow. Or the next… am I crazy, Arlen?”
He drops the hose and smiles. “Yes.”
I’m in his arms before my heart can beat twice. He lifts me off the ground. I kiss him like those words were not enough. He’s an animal, and animals communicate in other ways…
Today slowly becomes the best day of my life.
We alternate between getting work done on the ranch and dropping everything to make love where we stand.
He takes me against a tree, rocking me so hard against the trunk that a few pinecones shake loose as I scream.
We drive into town to buy a dozen huge bags of dry dog food, and not only do I go down on him while he drives us back, but we end up screwing against the tailgate of his truck before we even start unloading.
Arlen told me yesterday, but I wasn’t sure I believed him. Anytime. Anywhere. A man his age shouldn’t be primed for anytime, anywhere, but he hasn’t failed me yet.
I doubt he ever will.
There’s a hunger in his eyes when he looks at me. I’ve never felt so wanted, so needed .
And by the time the sun starts to dip beyond the mountain, I know that my life has changed forever.
Call me crazy, but this is where I belong.
Before dinner, we take pictures of Miles and Dane for their online profiles. Arlen shows me the website he had made for his foster dogs. It’s bare-bones, sloppy, and blunt.
“This needs some work,” I say. “Some color. Maybe a picture of you on the homepage with the dogs.”
“Why the fuck do I need to show my face?”
“To help them find their forever homes!”
Arlen closes his laptop, grunting and grumbling. “Nobody needs to see me… bad enough that I have to talk to anyone.”
“Picture it.” I wave my hands in the air, painting the scene. “You standing by the barn in a flannel, beard all oiled and brushed out, maybe an ax in your hands. All the dogs huddled around you, panting after a nice run. It’ll bring so much more attention to the site.”
He crosses his arms, a low rumble rising from his chest.
I put my hands on my hips. “You want to help those dogs find good homes?”
“Yeah,” he says curtly.
“This will help. Trust me, I work in marketing.”
A few curses slip quietly from his lips, but I know he’ll do it. He’d do anything for those dogs.
And even though I’ve only known him for two days, I know he’ll do anything for me.
I slide into his lap, wearing nothing but one of his flannels.
“Be a good boy, Arlen.” I slide my arms around his broad shoulders. “And you’ll get a treat.”
“I’ll get it anyway,” he growls, squeezing my butt.
“True. But you’ll do what I want, too.” I come up on my toes, lifting my hips so that I can feel the bulge in his jeans press against me. “Won’t you?”
Arlen’s mouth falls agape, eyes wild with lust. His brown eye warms me, and his blue eye makes me feel like I’m soaring over the forest.
“If you’re mine,” he says, “I’ll do anything…”
“I’m yours—“
He takes that promise from my lips.
Lost in his kiss, grinding against the stiff outline of his cock, I whimper for the man of my dreams.
My dog on the mountain.