CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE #2
“Jesus Christ,” Reid hisses. “She’ll fall down a fucking well next if we don’t put a lead on the kid.”
I’m not listening to him. The massive, apricot-coloured Bullmastiff swings at the sound of Milly’s voice, and a lump forms in my throat.
His mouth is huge. If push comes to shove, he could probably bite her head off—unlikely, but the fear is still there.
He steps toward her, the muscles in his back legs flexing.
He doesn’t bite or attack her. He licks her face, making her giggle, and the breath I had been holding whooshes out.
“Faith, is he going to hurt her?” I question. I’m frozen to the spot, unable to move, so a verbal assurance is all I can do right now.
“I don’t think so, but he hasn’t completed our training. Being around children was our last step. Guess he passes.”
“Then why did you rush in like she was about to free a feral animal?” Reid questions, his tone high-pitched, his complexion red now. He looks at me, bending until his hair is in my face. “Do I have grey hairs? I do, don’t I?”
I shove him away, still focused on the dog and Milly. “Faith?”
Tears well up when she glances back at us. “He survived a car crash. The family had a little girl not much younger than Milly in the car with them. I was worried he wouldn’t react well around a child because he misses his.”
“Why, did they not come back for him?” Reid asks. “That’s pretty messed up. You don’t ditch an animal.”
I can’t help but see the grief in her eyes. “They all died, Reid. All of them. Bear dragged the little girl from the car before it set alight but she was already gone.”
“Today is so fucking depressing,” he growls, his shoulders slumping. “The abandonment would have been a better story, Faith.”
“Sorry,” she replies, then watches as Milly throws her arms around the dog’s neck. His tail swishes from side to side on the floor, drool dribbling out of his mouth. “It’s so nice to see him happy. He was so depressed.”
Reid inhales sharply. “He just lost his kid and family, Faith. I wouldn’t be up for catching a stick either.”
“Reid,” I snort. “Shut up.”
He glares at me but speaks to Faith. “Any dogs I should stay away from? The last three kept running away and were never game to stay near the house.”
“Yes, the one right at the end on the left,” she chokes out, barely able to hide her grief. Reid hears it.
“What? Did he lose a fucking family member too?”
“He was abused severely and then sent to a dog ring where he barely survived. I don’t have long to try and get him to improve.”
“Improve?” I question, and then wish I hadn’t.
“His behaviour. He lashes out, is aggressive, and gets stressed around humans. If we can’t get him to improve, he will need be euthanised.”
“What is that? An anti-depressant jab?” Reid asks.
“Put to sleep,” I whisper.
“That doesn’t sound bad. I mean...” he trails off, then glares at Faith when the realisation hits him. “Do any of these dogs have happy stories? Jesus. They need therapy. Not a vet.”
Faith snorts. “Practically the same thing for a dog. I do have a couple of dogs that don’t have sad stories. Unless you class being surrendered as a sad story.”
“Surrendered, like they were held hostage?” he asks, his eyebrows shooting up.
“No, like they didn’t vibe with their owners so said owners brought them back,” I explain.
“So basically, a dog who shits and pisses everywhere, barks all day and night, and takes you for a walk instead of you taking them?” he guesses. “What kind of place is this? Wait, is that what I did? Did I give up on the dogs before giving them a real shot?”
Faith closes her eyes for a moment. “No, Reid. Like I told you when you decided to take them too early, they weren’t ready to be homed.
And as for your earlier comment, no, that isn’t always the case.
Bella here,” she begins and points to the little Pomeranian, “didn’t like being locked in a small crate all day.
I mean from seven a.m. to seven p.m. She was barking all day, so the neighbours complained, and because she used her free time squeezing in as much exercise as she could, the owners couldn’t cope when all they wanted to do was relax after a long day at work.
” She walks further down the row, stopping next to a golden retriever.
“This is Thor. He has a fear of people with plastic surgery. The guy who adopted him met a girl, and the dog freaked out because she had Botox and a face lift.” We follow her down to the Frenchie who sits licking his dick.
“This one needs no explanation. The couple thought they would be able to get past it. They couldn’t.
” When she stops at the Yorkshire, I can’t help but laugh.
It does the most fearless growl in the world, only it doesn’t have the same effect as it would if this was a bigger dog.
“Bernie here thinks he can take on the world. It was cute for the old lady at first but got annoying rather quickly.”
“Are you surprised with a name like Bernie? Poor dog is over-compensating.”
Faith searches his gaze. “Reid, is a dog really what you want? Because I will be honest, if this time doesn’t work out too, I won’t let you adopt another one. They have feelings too, so you need to take this seriously.”
“Yes. I...” He flushes when he sees me watching.
“I want someone there with Mum when I’m not.
Paisley has Rex, but Mum has no one when she’s on the farm.
It will be my dog. I’ll be taking him or her for walks, but I want a dog who is on alert.
I made the mistake last time by not taking it seriously.
I didn’t form a bond. And honestly, I kind of held a grudge.
Each time I was late for work because I was too busy looking for them, Jax threw a fit.
I’m serious this time. I won’t fuck it up.
And Mum is fully on board too. She was annoyed last time because I didn’t consult her. ”
“Then I have just the dog,” she declares, looking relieved. She walks us over to a crate where a German Shepherd sits alert, his gaze on Reid. “This is Hunter.”
Reid’s eyes snap to Faith. “Who the fuck named him that?”
Faith chuckles. “Can’t change it now. He’s trained with it. But you could go back to the name he came in with.”
“What was it?” I ask curiously.
She grins. “Mr Waffles.”
Reid bends down at the knee, so he’s face-to-face with the German Shepherd. “I prefer Hunter,” he muses out loud. “What’s his back story? Does he have one like these lot?”
“Reid, this is a shelter. All their stories are sad no matter how you tell them.”
“So he got left here because his previous owner didn’t want him?”
“His previous owner bought him because she was being stalked, and she needed protection. Sadly, the woman was killed after eight months of purchasing him.”
“So you want to give me a dog to protect my family and it’s a dog who failed the first time. Faith, I don’t get another chance at this. You said so yourself.”
I clip him around the head, earning a growl from the dog, so I wisely take a step back. “Sorry, Mr Waffles.”
“Hunter,” Reid corrects.
“I prefer Mr Waffles.”
Faith snorts. “To answer your remark, no, he didn’t fail. She couldn’t take him everywhere with her, Reid. She had to go to work. From what the sister said, her stalker cornered her after work and strangled her to death.”
“Bleak,” I mumble.
“Wait, he’s been here four months?” Reid asks, and I hear the sorrow in his tone.
“Only a month. They don’t get homed until about 12 weeks. I’ve been thinking about keeping him myself. Our land isn’t as big as yours, but it freaks me out sometimes. I swear, back at the beginning of Summer, right before we went on the cruise, I think someone had been sleeping in a tent here.”
I freeze, gaping at her. Reid’s head snaps up, and Mr Waffles goes on alert, coming up off his arse. “Did you see anyone?”
Her gaze goes from Reid to me. “What?”
I clear my throat. “Malia said she thought there was an outline of a tent in the grass in one of the fields. It can’t be a coincidence. Right?”
“Have you guys seen any on your land?” she questions Reid.
“No. But our land is also used. There’s a herd of sheep on the back acre.
Mum’s been renting it to a local farmer because his land hasn’t recovered from his neighbour’s herd going onto his land.
Then we have the new work site being built.
There’s always someone, somewhere. Plus, the owner at the back of us would kill anyone who trespassed. ”
“Maybe it’s nothing,” Faith whispers.
But I can’t help but feel like it is.
“I’m going to love you for forever,” Milly gushes, putting a pause in our conversation.
Reid looks up at me. “So what do you think? Should I take Hunter home?”
God, why is he so damn hot?
“Yep. I think Mr Waffles is perfect.”
“Stop calling my dog Mr Waffles.”
“That’s his name,” I point out.
“It’s Hunter now. You will give him a complex.”
My lips twitch. “Whatever you say.”
“Well, you can’t do anything until I see if I think you’re a good fit,” Faith remarks.
As she goes into more detail, I take a seat on the ground and watch as Reid Hayes gets properly acquainted with his dog.
As they go through commands, I can’t help but feel a tingle between my legs, hoping he uses that voice with me in bed.
Nope.
Nope, Summer Adams. You don’t.
I don’t.
Fuck, I really do.