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“Do you know who that is?” Josiah asked.
“Can’t be.”
Before Josiah could venture further, the front door opened and ejected a brown and white dog with a boxy head that reminded Josiah of a pit bull. The dog raced toward the car. Josiah reached for the lock button, panic spiking through him at the idea of a potentially dangerous animal coming right at them. Michael opened his door and scrambled out. Before Josiah could yell a warning, Michael dropped to his knees, opened his arms, and cried out when the dog barreled right into his chest.
Truly scared now, Josiah got out, too, and circled the car, ready to defend Michael with everything he had. Except the dog was licking Michael’s face, Michael was hugging the dog, and crying, and it hit Josiah at all once: Rosco. This was Michael’s dog.
And one glance at the front porch, where Elmer sat in his chair next to a smiling stranger, sent a blast of anger through Josiah’s chest.
The infamous ex, Kenny, was here.
Chapter Twenty-One
Michael had driven home from Woods Ranch in such a delightfully positive mood he half expected rainbows and glitter to start shooting out of his ears. Between making love with Josiah last night—something he very much wanted to do again, and soon—and their amazing day at the ranch, nothing short of a nuclear detonation in the middle of town could spoil his happy.
Until he saw Kenny’s car parked next to Dad’s pickup. A chill had spread through his entire body, leaving his fingers trembling with anger and shock. There was absolutely no reason on earth for Kenny to have driven up from Austin, none. And yet there was his car, practically smirking at him with its rear lights and shiny bumper.
“What the hell?” Michael yanked the gear into Park and reached for the door handle, ready to storm the house and demand to know what the fuck was going on.
“Do you know who that is?”
He barely heard Josiah’s question over the roar in his own head. “Can’t be.” And then the door opened and the most beautiful sight in the world had come racing toward him. Rosco was there. Rosco was barking and charging the car, and Michael hadn’t been able to think. He’d somehow gotten out of the car and was hugging the life out of his boy. His beautiful pittie, who’d once been days away from being dumped in a kill shelter by his previous owner, until Kenny agreed to buy him from them.
Rosco had been a dream dog from day one. He never bit, he knew a few basic commands, and he was the biggest snuggle bug ever, spending days sleeping by Michael’s feet and nights at the foot of their bed. Rosco licked his face and whined, his round body never stopping its wiggle-dance of joy, big paws stepping all over Michael’s legs and junk, and he didn’t care.
“Oh my God, boy, I’ve missed you.” He held Rosco’s face in his hands so he could look into those intelligent brown eyes. “You look good. So fucking good.” Rosco licked his face again, and Michael had no shame in the few tears that spilled from his eyes.
“Is this Rosco?” Josiah asked. He stood near the car’s fender, body illuminated by the headlights Michael hadn’t turned off.
“Yeah, this is Rosco. Come here, he wouldn’t hurt a hornet if it stung him.”
Josiah came closer and offered a hand, which Rosco sniffed, then licked. “He’s beautiful. I didn’t realize he was a pit bull.”
“Technically, he’s a bit of a mutt, but he’s got the face shape and body that most shelters automatically use to classify a dog as a pittie. We saved him from death row.” Okay, so technically Kenny had saved him from being surrendered, and Michael had been leery at first, but Rosco had won Michael’s heart that first day with his silly grunts and kisses.
And it struck Michael then that Rosco hadn’t driven himself to Weston. He looked up. Right at the porch where Kenny stood next to Dad, arms crossed, his posture oddly relaxed, considering the screaming match they’d had the last time Michael and Kenny had seen each other in person.
Michael stood and strode toward the house with as much authority as he could muster with Rosco weaving around his legs and trying to trip him. Josiah followed at a slight distance after turning off the car.
“What are you doing here?” Michael asked, working to keep his tone even when he wanted to snap and snarl. To protect his family from potential danger.
“It’s almost Thanksgiving,” Kenny replied with a bright, toothy smile, turning on his charm in a familiar way. “I wanted to surprise you.”
“Why? Don’t get me wrong, I’m fucking thrilled to see my dog, especially when you said you rehomed him.” He scratched one of Rosco’s ears. “But you and I don’t have any more business together. You made that very clear when you cut me out of our company and stole my patents.”
“That’s old news, baby. I drove all this way with a barking dog in the car, and it’s freezing up here. Can we go inside and talk?”
Michael looked at Dad, who shrugged. Kenny must have spun a great story to get Dad outside so he could unlock the gate and let Kenny onto the property. And as much as Michael wanted to go inside and slam the door in Kenny’s face, he was curious why he’d made the long drive north. Plus, Rosco time. “Yeah, I guess we can talk.”
He started forward but realized after three steps that Josiah was no longer beside him. Michael stopped and turned. Josiah’s expression was perfectly neutral, but something flickered in his eyes. Something that looked a lot like doubt.
“I’m going back to my trailer,” Josiah said. “You probably need privacy for this.”
Michael’s chest squeezed in an unhappy way. “You don’t have to. I’m withyou.”
“I know. Go talk to him. Text me later if you want.” Before Michael could form a response with his tangled tongue, Josiah turned and strode to the trailer. A trailer that, for Michael, was merely a formality at this point. Josiah belonged in the house with him, period. But if space was what Josiah needed, Michael would respect that.
Once Josiah was safely inside the trailer, Michael walked up onto the porch.
