He nervously shuffles foot to foot before he blurts out, “Three full days if you combined the total number of hours I’ve put in.”
“Three days!” I whine like a child when my shout ensures any attempts to reignite the spark between Maddox and me will be nonexistent. More than a rapidly rising sun is being pointed our way, and not one of the rays is au naturel. “I know you’re still striving to work out what you want to do once your studies are over, but can I suggest taking building, architecture, and any other manual labor position that requires your handsoffyour list of possible careers. If you were Noah and the doghouse was an ark, we would have drowned by now.”
“Ouch…” Maddox says while clutching his chest like he’s mortally wounded. “Kick a man while he’s down, why don’t you.” When I peer at him, confused as to how he’s down for the count, he nudges his head to the blindingly obvious bulge behind the zipper in his pants. “You never, I repeat,neverdiss a man’s capabilities with his hands whileallthe blood in his body is feeding his cock. You could cause himpermanentdamage.”
The boy I had a crush on for years shines bright in his eyes when he mutters, “There’s only one way to fix the grave injustice.” He nudges his head to the ground at his feet like he can’t feel the eyes of at least four people on us. “On your knees, Demi…” The hot, sticky slickness his sexy voice caused between my legs dries when he finalizes his sentence. “This jigsaw puzzle isn’t going to fix itself.”
13
Maddox
“Are you sure that’s the one you want?”
Demi drifts her eyes away from a semi-grown Doberman cozying up to her from his cage to me. “Yes, he’s perfect.”
She purrs her reply in the same manner she did while taking my dick between her lips. We built the doghouse I had purchased three weeks ago, painted it a bright, sunny yellow, then got lost in each other for the spare hour we had before our appointment at an animal shelter in Ravenshoe.
Even if I hadn’t stalked Demi from afar a majority of my life, I still would know she’d rather a rescue dog than a bred-to-specification puppy. There’s an immense amount of pleasure in taking someone out of a volatile situation and showing them what real love means.
Love doesn’t come with stipulations.
Demi is slowly learning that.
“All right, I’ll let the staff know…” My words trail off when the lady I made the appointment with earlier this week arrives at our side.
Although she’s a bundle of happiness, her words are far from it. “I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you, the dogs in this section of the shelter are not available for adoption.” She holds a clipboard brimming with adoption papers up to her mouth so the Doberman Demi has selected won’t hear her. “He’s scheduled to be euthanized this afternoon.”
“Why?” Demi asks after standing to her feet. “If we want to adopt him, why does he have to be put down?”
Illa, the clerk at the animal shelter, drops her lower lip into a pout. “Because he has been deemed menacing. He bit one of the staff. He needed ten stitches.”
I stray my eyes to the dog she’s calling a menace, confident she has her files mixed up. He spent the past twenty minutes licking Demi like she is a lollipop. He’s a gentle giant. “Are you sure that dog bit someone? He’s harmless.”
Demi backs up my claims by squatting back down to the dog’s level. “He just needs some TLC, don’t you, buddy?” He leans into her embrace when she scratches under his chin, but I do notice his docked tail remains perfectly still. Demi is right. He wants affection, he just has no clue how to respond to it since he’s never been given it.
“We’ll take him.”
“Sir—”
“I’ll sign anything necessary. Indemnity forms. A statutory declaration saying you cautioned us against him. Anything you want forthatdog.” I’d offer her every dollar hidden in my childhood bedroom at my family home if it guarantees she’ll give Demi the dog she wants. That’s how much I’m moved by the love beaming out of Demi’s eyes. I’ll steal the damn dog if I have to. “Please,” I shamefully beg when I appear to be getting through to her. “He just needs a little bit of love.”
After taking in the dog playfully licking Demi’s cheek, she releases a heavy sigh. “It will take hours in paperwork.”
I mentally fist pump the air before saying coolly, “That’s fine.”
“And you’ll need to register him at the council as a menacing dog. That alone will require an approved area for him to be housed, an additional payment for insurance, and they may even request for him to attend obedience school.”
“Still fine.”
A cash register’scha-chingsounds on repeat in my ears, but it’s barely audible over the spike in my pulse when Demi throws her arms around my neck and whispers in my ear, “Thank you! He’s perfect.”
One hour and twenty-seven minutes later, we leave the shelter as brand-new parents of an eight-month-old Doberman named Max. Although he shook like he was thrown into an ice bath when Demi entered his stall to put on his lead, he followed her out of the shelter. He even did the occasional twirl when we broke into the parking lot. He knew his days were numbered, so he knows precisely who to thank for his second chance.
“How could they have ever called you menacing?” Demi says to Max as she opens the back-passenger door of the Buick to place him in with his new doggy seat belt.
I laugh when Max’s dive into the Buick is quickly chased by him leaping over the seat so that he sits in the front passenger seat. “Come on, buddy, in the back.”
I freeze partway to the Buick when Max bares his teeth at me. He isn’t growling, but I’m reasonably sure he’ll gnaw my nuts off if I move one step closer.
