He shook the woman out of his brain and focused on the dog, who still hadn’t so much as barked. In a brand-new place with at least ten other dogs in sight? This one was an angel.
“What’s her name?” Shane asked, immediately coming to his knees to greet the dog.
“Daisy.”
Shane smiled and eased his hand around her head, knowing exactly how to reach without any aggression, but a steady, kind hand. “Crazy, lazy Daisy,” he said softly, holding her dark gaze to establish a bond. “Rescue?”
“Long-term boarder,” Garrett said. “Jessie and I went over to Greensboro last night to have dinner with Marie Boswell and celebrate our engagement, and we came home with Daisy.”
“Sounds like dinner with Marie.” Shane laughed, thinking of their family friend who volunteered in shelters and frequently sent dogs to Waterford for the rescue program that Garrett ran. “How long term?”
“Could be a month,” Garrett said. “Marie broke her foot, a fact she forgot to mention to me until we arrived. The woman has four dogs and can’t handle any of them until she’s out of a cast. She was able to find temporary homes for all the others, but she wanted to keep Daisy. Impossible, since this dog is incredibly active.”
“Most Staffies are,” Shane said, curling a finger around the terrier’s ear. The misunderstood Staffordshire terrier, like its cousin the American bull terrier, had been Shane’s weakness ever since…Zeus. He swallowed hard at the memory of the dog, as he always did.
No, it wasn’t fair that these dogs got saddled with a name and a bad rep. No one knew like Shane that it wasn’t the dogs that were monsters. The real animals were the people who didn’t know jack shit about them.
“She’s never been in a kennel in her life,” Garrett said. “But I couldn’t let Marie struggle with her, and Daisy wasn’t happy with no playtime.”
Shane made a face, knowing Daisy would have to be inside plenty at Waterford.
“I can keep her at night,” Shane offered, already planning to take her for long walks and Frisbee tosses. But during the day, she’d have to stay in the kennels while other dogs were training. She’d hate that, and he knew it. Being penned up during the day would make her restless and anxious, and then, if she made one mistake…someone might say it was because of her breed and not her situation. Not anyone who worked at Waterford, but a guest.
When he used both hands to rub the dog’s head, she instantly leaned forward to show her gratitude with a juicy lick on Shane’s cheek. A kisser, like all happy Staffordshire terriers.
“Good girl, Daisy.” He reached into the treat bag hanging off his pants and slipped out a tiny biscuit. She gobbled it out of his hand and rewarded him with a direct, grateful gaze and a little pant of love.
“I’m going to check her in and show her shot record to Molly,” Garrett said, referring to their sister, the Waterford vet. “Where are you going to be, Jess?”
“Lola needs some exercise,” she said. “I’ll take her down to the creek and wait for you.”
“Okay.” Garrett leaned forward to kiss Jessie on the lips. “See you in a bit.”
“Oh, the smooching,” Shane whispered to Daisy as Jessie took off. “Don’t tell me they did that all the way from Greensboro.”
“Shut up,” Garrett said, snapping a leash on Daisy’s collar. “You’re jealous.”
“Not at all.” Shane stood to look his brother in the eyes. “As a matter of fact, I was kissing someone myself recently.”
One kiss. But Garrett didn’t need to know that. Or the fact that “recently” was three days ago and he was still thinking about her.
“Someone with two legs, not four?”
“Screw you,” Shane joked. “The king of celibacy falls hard, and the rest of the world is on the receiving end of his teasing.”
“Not teasing, Shane. You should try something more than meaningless sex sometime.” Garrett’s gaze shifted to the figure of Jessie, disappearing around the tree-lined path that led to Crescent Creek. “It’s life-changing.”
“Only if you want your life to change, which I don’t.” Wouldn’t mind having his empty bed change, though.
“Hey, you two!” They turned to see their father walking across the expansive lawn behind the house where Daniel and Annie Kilcannon had raised six kids and more dogs than anyone could remember. “Have either of you seen Liam?”
“It’s explosives training today,” Shane told him, which meant the oldest Kilcannon would be far from the facility all day, doing canine bomb-sniffing training with some officers and trainee dogs.