The Conundrum of Collies (Love & Pets #6) - A.G. Henley Page 0,5

on a leash.

Bean trots beside me, ears and tail up, eyes bright. She peers warily at the pack of metallic wolf statues spread outside of the museum entrance, while I peer inside the glass doors at the two-story reconstructed T-rex skeleton in the lobby. The museum is closed for the day, but the dinosaur bones are visible through the windows and bathed in late afternoon light. Actually, I’m not even sure they’re real bones. I think it’s a model. Either way, I love that I can casually spot a T-rex while walking to the local park from our home.

Bean sniffs a tree for a sec, then hurries back to my side. She’s a great walker—not one of those pee-on-every-blade-of-grass type dogs. She seems to intuitively know when a walk is for her, meaning a stroll where she can luxuriate in soaking up every rich scent and interesting sight versus when it’s for me, like for exercise, or when we need to be somewhere.

Like now. I check my watch; we’ve got five minutes to find the group.

On the other side of the museum, the park spreads out. There’s Ferril Lake in the center of the park, a great view of the downtown skyline in the distance, and beyond that, the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. I have to pause for a second to admire. The buildings downtown are silhouettes, but I can make out the snow frosting the upper peaks of the mountains.

Mmm. Frosting.

I’d only had time for a protein bar and a banana, so no wonder I’m hungry.

Shading my eyes from the sun, I spot a group of dogs and humans in a wide stretch of grass between the museum and the lake. People walk and run along the trails around the water, but the field where this group gathers is fairly empty.

“C’mon, Bean. There they are.”

We speed walk over, and when we reach the group, stop to watch. The field is marked into a rectangle by long ropes tied to four orange cones at each corner. Six humans stand at one of the narrow ends of the rectangle and throw flexible discs short distances for their dogs to chase and catch. As we watch, a border collie that looks a lot like Bean leaps into the air to catch the disc thrown for her, while a brown and white shepherd-looking dog runs after his and misses. Bean pays close attention beside me.

A petite woman splits off from the group and comes our way. She has long, glossy brown hair, trim legs that are perfectly showcased in cut-off denim shorts, and she’s wearing a T-shirt with a logo on it for a company called Hyperflite. Sunglasses and a visor cover her face, but I can tell at a glance she’s very pretty. She greets me with a smile.

“Hi, are you here for the Denver Disc Dogs club?”

I nod and wave. “I’m Stevie, and this is Bean. I saw your posting in Nextdoor.”

“Oh, great! I’m glad those things work. It’s hard to tell sometimes, you know? I’m Emmy, the captain of the club. My dog Meadow is a border collie, too. Jude is warming her up for me.” She points to the dog I saw flying across the field a minute ago. She’s bringing a frisbee back to a cute Latino guy. He’s lean and muscular, with messy black hair and wearing long camouflage shorts and flip flops.

“Has Bean ever played with a disc before?” Emmy asks.

“No. But I think she’ll like it.” I laugh. “She loves chasing things—like my neighbor’s chickens—and she has plenty of energy to burn.”

Emmy grins. “Got it. Before we started the club, Meadow almost got me kicked out of my apartment. She was so wild.” She’s about to say something else, I think, when her eyes fix on something behind me.

It’s Logan. He slows from a jog to a walk, his tan skin glowing in the sun. As I turn back to Emmy, I notice she can’t quite tear her gaze away from him. I don’t blame her. Even soaked in sweat, he’s a handsome guy. I introduce him to her as my best friend and housemate.

“It’s so nice to meet you both,” Emmy says with a sweet smile. “Come on over, and we’ll get started with some drills. You can watch for a while, and then I’ll show you a few ways to get started with Bean’s training. Did you happen to bring a disc?”

I shake my head. “No, sorry. I saw the post yesterday.”

“No

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