about my question. “I mean for more than just snacking on.”
He lets out a huff, like he’s saying, As if, and I smile.
“You’re going to have to wait here for a few minutes while I get my groceries inside and lock Mouse in my room.”
With another groan, he lies down near my trunk. I unpack my car, carrying everything inside in one trip, because I also hate lugging in groceries. After I’m done, I go in search of Mouse, who’s asleep in his bed, which is suction cupped to the window in the dining room. I carry him to my bedroom and deposit him on the bed before shutting the door.
I bring Bruce inside, and he sniffs around for a few minutes before ending up in front of my bedroom door. Mouse, on the opposite side, reaches his tiny kitty paws under in an attempt to get out, and Bruce thinks it’s a game and begins to try to catch them. Not seeing any aggression between the two, I leave them and go to the kitchen to put away the groceries. As I start to make myself some dinner, I call the number for Bruce’s owner again and leave another message. Bruce smells the sautéing chicken and comes into the kitchen. He looks up at the stove, then at me.
“I don’t have any dog food, buddy,” I tell him, and I swear he pouts. “If I have to go out and get you some food, I will, but I’m hoping your owner will realize you’re missing and call me back before that.”
I watch him turn around in a circle and flop down on my kitchen floor, and then I go back to the stove and flip over the chicken as my cell phone on the counter rings. It’s a local number, so I slide my finger across the screen, then put my phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“You left a message that you have my dog,” says a deep, attractive, and somewhat familiar voice. I look down at Bruce, who has his head on his paws and his eyes on me.
“Yes, he was on my front porch when I got home. He came into my garage after I pulled my car in, which I didn’t realize until after I shut the garage door. He scared me to death, but he’s sweet, and I didn’t want to put him back outside since he obviously belongs to someone,” I ramble.
“Shit. Sorry about that. He’s never taken off before,” he says, and I hear what sounds like a door slamming. “I just got in my truck. I’ll come get him. Where are you located?”
Why is his voice so familiar? Why do I think I know him? I shake my head and rattle off my address.
“You’ve got to be shitting me.” He laughs.
“Pardon?”
“Never mind. I’ll be right there.” He hangs up, and my heart starts to race.
I look at Bruce. “No way.” When the doorbell rings not even a minute later, I tip my head back to face the ceiling and groan, hoping I’m wrong. When I drop my head forward, I watch Bruce get up. “You just had to belong to the guy next door, didn’t you?”
He barks in response, wiggling with excitement as he walks toward me. I rub his head and then pat my leg. “Come on. Your dad’s here to get you.”
He follows me to the door, then sits at my side as I swing it open.
Mr. Hottie from next door, now known as Tyler, smirks down at me from under the bill of his baseball cap. “Babe, you didn’t need to kidnap my dog just to get my attention,” he jokes.
I cross my arms over my chest while glaring at him and huff. “As if I want your attention.”
He laughs and looks down at Bruce, who hasn’t made a move toward him. His brows pull together, and he pats his leg. “Come on, bud.” Bruce moves only enough to turn his big head and lick my hand. “How long has he been over here?”
“Maybe an hour?” I shrug, placing my hand on Bruce’s furry head when he rests his heavy weight against my side. I scratch behind his ears. “Are you sure he’s yours? Maybe you’re trying to kidnap him before his real owner returns.” I smirk, and his eyes narrow on my mouth.
“He’s mine.”
“Doesn’t seem like it.” I shrug again, getting a kick out of annoying him as much as he annoyed me the last time we were in