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“You still want to groom Harry?” Evan absentmindedly touches his lips.
Huh. I pull myself together since it sounds like I’m needed in a professional capacity. “I want to groom Harry and Sally.”
He shakes his head. “Just the dog. You don’t need another trip to the hospital.”
“How about I do Sally tomorrow and Harry today?” I suggest. Yeah. Great thinking. That leaves me more time to do Evan tonight if it comes to that.
“Deal.” Evan grabs my hand and leads me toward his front door, which makes me feel very melty in the region of my panties—something I’ve never felt before a pet grooming.
When the door opens, Harry greets us excitedly.
“Hey, bud.” Evan releases my hand and ruffles Harry’s fur. “You’re about to get a treat.”
Ah. The grooming, right. That was the pretext for coming over. “How do you usually wash Harry?” I ask Evan.
Evan grins. “Hose, outside. Or one of those showers at the beach. But he considers baths a treat, so I think that might be the way to go in this case.”
Aha. Bath. “Want to help me?”
Evan nods. “Come on, bud, let’s take a bath.”
Harry is so happy you’d think Evan told him he’s just inherited a peanut butter factory.
As soon as we get Harry into the bath and turn on the shower, the dog looks blissed out—but then he performs a shakeout his kind is so good at.
Evan laughs. “This is why I don’t do this often.”
Yeah. Evan and I are now wet, with me in multiple senses of the word courtesy of Evan’s bulging muscles peeking through his wet shirt. My own shirt is soaked and therefore sheer, which Evan clearly notices and is happy to see. That, or he must bring a rather large flashlight to all of his pet-grooming sessions.
Gritting my teeth, I do my best to stay professional as I proceed with the wash.
Nope. This is not even close to professional. Evan is so adorable with his fur baby that it makes me think of the one thing Reagan has never gotten to experience—having a dad. And picturing Evan in the role of a dad is a bad, bad idea.
Note to self: Avoid doing such domestic crap with flings or guys with whom one is doing stuff with no labels. Granted, this is a pretty useless note because I’m not normally interested in flings or label-less whatevers.
When the bathing is done but before we can properly towel him off, Harry runs around the house like he’s on fire instead of wet, and Sally watches his antics with a sinister expression that seems to say, “Go ahead. Try getting me wet. See what happens.”
Hmm. Could Sally be impervious to my cat tricks? Whatever. For now, I need to finish dealing with Harry, so with Evan’s help, I catch him and start to detangle his fur.
“Wow,” Evan says when I manage to rid Harry of a piece of gum that was stuck in his fur for what looks like a year. “You’re the best groomer I’ve ever met.”
Hey, maybe causing myself to smell like a wet dog was worth it. “Harry seems to be free of any parasites. Want to help me trim his nails?”
Evan agrees, so we do Harry’s mani-pedi and then jointly brush his teeth.
“Your breath smells amazing,” Evan says afterward.
“Thanks,” I say.
“I was talking to Harry,” Evan says with a grin. “But yours smells even better.”
Before I can reply, Harry decides that the compliment is a great excuse to give Evan a doggy kiss.
Hey. Unfair. I had the same idea. Though maybe with less tongue.
Done going to first base with his dog, Evan looks at me sheepishly. “I’ll go brush my teeth… just in case.”
“I don’t find dog kisses gross.” To prove my point, I let Harry place one on me.
