The Conundrum of Collies (Love & Pets #6) - A.G. Henley Page 0,1

Ugh. Smart again. I only thought of my bare feet and arms before running outside instead of grabbing the necessary tools to bring the escapee home.

As Logan hooks the leash on my dog’s collar and leads her away from the flock, I swear the chickens’ combs and wattles droop with relief. Logan squints apologetically at something—or someone—behind me. I twist around.

“Stevie, I swear, I’m going to call animal control on that dog next time.” Rosa’s expression is pinched. She wears a navy-blue dress with one sensible heel and one bare foot, like she’d walked in from work and just had time to kick a single shoe off before she’d noticed the commotion in the backyard.

“I’m so sorry, Rosa.” I take Bean’s leash from Logan. “I don’t know how she got in here.”

“That’s what you said last time.” Our neighbor eyes Bean. I don’t think she dislikes my dog. She wishes she wouldn’t terrorize her flock, a totally reasonable desire.

“We boarded up the hole in the fence she was getting through,” Logan says.

“Well, obviously she found a new one,” Rosa answers in a clipped tone.

“We’ll find it and get it patched,” I say. “I’m really sorry again. Let me know if any of the hens are hurt. I’ll pay the vet bill.” Bean doesn’t bite them, but sometimes in their panic to get away from her, they peck each other, causing injuries.

“Trust me, I will,” Rosa says.

I sigh. I don’t blame her for being upset, but I wish she didn’t keep chickens. Or that Bean wasn’t so excited about herding them.

Logan takes my arm and mutters in my ear. “C’mon, let’s get out of here. I’ll bring her a pint of gelato later.” He raises his voice again. “See you, Rosa.”

Muttering, she stalks back inside her own bungalow as the chickens fluff their feathers, cluck self-righteously at Bean, and resume pecking at the ground. But I’m sure at least one beady eye on each head stays on the retreating canine.

Back inside our house, I unhook the leash and lean against the kitchen counter, looking at my dog. “Bean, what am I going to do with you?”

Recognizing my disappointed tone, she collapses on the ground, her muzzle on top of her front paws and her eyes upturned to my face, expression mournful. When I don’t relent, she whines and rolls onto her side, showing her belly. How can I stay upset with her when she looks so contrite?

I sit cross-legged next to her and stroke her super soft, fine fur. I don’t know if it soothes her when I pet her, but it works for me. Like a lot of border collies, she’s black along the top of her body, white on her legs and underside, and she has a streak of white around her muzzle and up her nose to the top of her head. The fur around her eyes is black, and the tip of her tail is white.

Logan grabs a reusable water bottle from the fridge, and as he shuts the door, a rumpled and worn piece of paper flutters out from under a Colorado-shaped magnet and falls beside me. While Logan twists the bottle open and drinks, I pick the paper up and absentmindedly scan the familiar faded handwritten items on my list.

Stevie’s Bucket List

(To Do Before Age 30)

1. Change someone’s life for the better.

2. Go skydiving.

3. Travel somewhere new.

4. Establish a healthy work-life balance.

5. Floss every night.

6. Organize my room and keep it clean.

7. Learn to do something new.

8. Learn to make gumbo.

9. Exercise every day.

10. Fall in love.

“She needs a hobby.” Logan points the bottom of the bottle at Bean. “Something other than herding chickens.”

Bean cocks her ear at that. She’s an intelligent dog, but she can’t possibly know the meaning of hobby. She must know the word chicken. I wouldn’t be at all surprised by that.

“Like what?” I ask.

“I could take her jogging with me,” he says.

I eye his trim, tanned legs, sun-bronzed face, and ever-present running shoes. “You don’t jog, you sprint. You’d wear her out.”

“She’d be fine. She’s young and fit.” He scratches his head. His black curls are thick and full when long, a little like a poodle’s, so he keeps them cut pretty short. “Maybe there’s a farm where you can pay for her to go herd something that actually needs herding. I’ve read about places like that.”

“That’s an idea. But it doesn’t sound close by.”

He groans. “You and driving. You should live in a city where you can take public