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And decided he had to be
crazy, because surely he was the first man on earth to envy a dog.
CHAPTER FOUR
He had definitely been too long without a woman.
There was absolutely no other way to explain it.
He was standing in a cold, drafty hallway, watching his dog rolling around on the floor with a woman who had quickly become a pain in the ass, and he was envious of the dog.
He was crazy. Without question, Nick decided, and stood as straight as that goddamn crutch would allow.
“Brutus,” he said sharply. “Come here!”
The dog looked up, flashed a doggy grin and went back to nuzzling the woman stretched out under him.
“Brutus! I said come! Dammit, dog—”
“Woof!”
Nick felt his jaw tighten. The Newf’s tail was wagging even harder, fast enough for imminent takeoff. The woman was laughing and rubbing his head. Encouraging him. Urging him on. Making it clear that not even a dog had to show him respect.
Nick could all but feel his temperature rising. His blood boiling. His gut twisting, or whatever the hell happened when a man was fast losing what little remained of his composure.
Dammit, Lissa Wilde had been nothing but trouble from the get-go. Landing a job under false pretenses, because no matter what she said, he didn’t for a minute believe that she was a cook. Wasting his time letting him fly her here.
He was dealing with a bunch of wranglers who thought that saying things like Dude, I could eat an elephant was simply a new way to start a meal.
Now, he had to deal with this.
His dog, a dog that—unfortunately—wouldn’t obey any human being in the world except him, was refusing to respond to the simplest command.
Impossible, Nick decided, and narrowed his eyes.
“Let go of my dog.”
Ah, man, what a stupid thing to say! The dog had the woman pinned down and he was telling her to let go of the dog?
Nick tried again.
“The dog,” he said coldly, “is not a pet.”
Jesus. This was going from bad to worse. The dog is not a pet? Had he really said that? Well, hell. He had to say something, didn’t he? Yeah. He damn well did.
He couldn’t just watch his dog make an ass of himself…
He couldn’t just stand here wishing he could change places with the dog.
Try again, Gentry.
“He doesn’t like to be petted.”
Hell! He’d gone beyond stupid. The woman thought so, too. She gave a snort of laughter. Brutus, who liked laughter, woof-woofed in response. The woman looked at Nick through a tangle of her silky blond hair and the Newf’s soft black fur.
“Could have fooled me,” she said.
“He’s a—a—” A what? “He’s a trained guard dog. He has a job to do. And you’re diverting him.”
