Page 28 of Falling for the Enemy

When the dog rested his big, heavy head on Soren’s arm, something inside of him cracked open.

“Oh, you’ve got game.”

The dog edged closer, panting and smiling up at Soren.

“Sir, I was wrong. He’s three, but that’s still pretty young for a dog his size.” The volunteer handed him a slip of paper with King’s stats. “I’m Ryan, by the way.”

“Thanks, Ryan.” Soren briefly reviewed the paperwork. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Beg your pardon?”

“Why’s he here?”

“Oh, nothing’s wrong with him. Great Danes are often surrendered due to their size.”

“He is big.”

“A hundred and sixty-two pounds, to be exact.”

Soren let out an impressive whistle. “How much does a dog like this eat?”

“They can survive off your basic large breed dog food,” Ryan explained, reaching in to scratch King’s ear. The dog ate up the attention. “Some pet owners prefer a more gourmet approach. An adult male of his size would need between seven to ten cups a day and a good amount of protein.”

“Of course he would,” Soren said with dramatic gruffness as he looked into King’s brown eyes and rubbed his ears. “Because you’re a king, aren’t you, King? You deserve the good stuff.”

Ryan cleared his throat, and Soren realized he was sweet-talking a dog. Out loud. He stopped petting King and returned to his full height.

The volunteer smiled. “So… should I start the paperwork?”

“Huh? Oh. No. I was just… He’s a good dog and all, but, as I said, I’m not a pet owner.”

“Not yet.”

“No,” he objected, but there was little conviction to the word. “I travel for work, and I don’t want to steal an opportunity for him to make a few kids happy.”

“He most likely won’t go to a house with young children. That’s if he goes to a house at all.”

“What do you mean? He’s the best-looking dog on the lot.”

“Oh, I agree, but his breed complicates things. It takes a capable owner to manage a Great Dane of his size. He’s been moved around dog pounds his whole life. We try to keep him in no-kill shelters, but we’re limited to how long we can keep an animal.”

“What the hell is a no-kill shelter?”

“It just means humane—like ours. We don’t euthanize animals.”

Soren scowled at Ryan and stepped protectively between him and King. “Are you telling me someone would kill this majestic beast?”

“Not us, but he’ll eventually move to another shelter if he’s not gaining interest here. King’s been with us for ten months and hasn’t had much luck. We would, of course, place him with another humane shelter, but after that… It’s out of our control.”

Soren’s scowl darkened. “You can’t let that happen. Someone has to take him.”

“I hope all our animals find their fur-ever home.”

Soren chuckled. Fur-ever home. That was the first time he’d heard that. But then he looked back at King and his humor died. The thought of anything happening to this beautiful dog was unbearable. “How much?”

Ryan’s eyes widened. “You’re interested?”

“Let’s call it curious.”