So. Long(26)

“I wanted to see if you’re a patient person. I was testing you.” His expression says he thinks this is perfectly reasonable behavior.

I close my eyes and shake my head.

Just another lesson learned. That’s all. I’ve been done worse, and by people I trusted.

I will the anger to leave me as I look Rodney in the eye. “I would very much appreciate it if you wouldn’t come outside until I’ve had time to get into my car and drive awa. And let me leave you with this little piece of advice. This is not the way to attract the opposite sex. This is red flag central, buddy.”


* * *

I stopped at the first fast food place I saw on the way home from the disaster of an almost date.

I tried to call Leigh but had to leave a voicemail.

As I pull into my driveway, the phone goes off. I turn off the engine and answer.

Before I can even say a word, Leigh launches. “What happened? It seems pretty early for your date to be done. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me.”

“I hate you. And I hate your big ideas to join a dating site.”

From her gasp, I can just imagine her all wide-eyed with her hand over her mouth.

I take a deep breath. “I don’t hate you. I love you. But I do think I might hate online dating.”

“Oh, sweetie. What happened?”

I tell her about the date debacle and swear off online dating for the foreseeable future.

“Aw. You can’t quit. You’ve had one date. Maybe the next guy will be amazing.”

I grab the bag from the passenger seat and push my door open. I turn to check the backseat, a habit I formed when Clarissa was a baby to make sure I didn’t accidentally leave her in the car.

Something tugs on my bag of grub.

Spike.

“No. Bad boy. Stop.” I drop my phone, but hang on to the paper sack containing my favorite junk-out meal.

Spike’s nostrils flare, while the whites of his eyes show. He pulls.

“Doesn’t—”

I slide from the car.

“…he—”

My ass hits the driveway.

“…ever—”

I hold on with both hands.

“…feed—”

My knees are almost at my ears as my red heels dig into the grass at the edge of the concrete.

“…you?”

His teeth tear into the paper as he huffs out a breath through his nose as I try to push his face away.

Slime from his jowls clings to my fingers.

Ew.

He twists his head, trying to wrest my food from me. I yank once more.

The bag rips. In less than a second, the ass end of Adam’s dog races away.

He looks over his shoulder, my dinner firmly clenched in his jowls as he escapes with another one of my meals.

A limp, wet sliver of paper rests in my outstretched palm.

I screech and then clamp my jaw shut.

Leigh hollers from the other end of the line. “Are you okay? Kelsey? Kelsey?”

I retrieve my phone from beneath the car. “I have to let you go. I’m going to go throttle a dog after I rip my neighbor a new one for not containing his animal.”

I hang up and slam the car’s door.

I bang on Adam’s front door. Arms crossed, I stand with my tapping foot, waiting for him to answer.

When he comes to the door, he’s shirtless, wearing sweats tied low on his hips, that V leading down into them.

“Kelsey? What’re you doing here? I thought you were on a date.”

He smoothes his hand down his beard while he scratches his ripped stomach. His loose pants aren’t loose enough to hide the erection that pops up within seconds.

“Kelsey?”

My eyes snap back to his face.

Why am I here, staring at Mr. McHottie-Hard-Dick?

Oh yeah. My dinner.

“You. You and that damned dog.”

“Spike? What do we have to do with your date?”

I blow an errant strand of hair out of my eyes. “The date was no dice, but that’s not important. What matters is that I had a bag of food. Your thieving mutt mugged me.”

His eyebrows knit and his mouth drops open slightly.

“Look, I’ve had a horrible evening. All I wanted was to come home and sulk in peace with the ultimate, fattening comfort food. Now I can’t because your mutt has the manners of Attila the Hun.”

Adam looks behind him as though he expects to find Spike sitting nicely, waiting to prove me wrong.

“He’s not inside. He’s down the street scarfing up my double cheeseburger with extra bacon and my super cheesy fries. No thanks to you.”

His eyebrows climb. “Me?”

“He’s your dog, isn’t he? Thus, it’s your responsibility to watch over him and keep him under control—which you pretty much suck at, by the way.”

Adam gently pushes past me and comes out onto his porch.

He whistles. “C’mon, Spike. Here, boy.”