No More Mr. Nice - By Renee Roszel Page 0,37
blond mutt that was giving off the all-too-familiar bouquet of eau de polecat.
“Get it away!” Suzy screamed. Get it away! It’ll bite me!”
“It doesn’t care about you,” Jack groused. “It wants to be friends. Can’t you see it’s licking my hand, dummy?”
“It smells like—totally gross.”
“That’s because it’s been attacked by the skunks, too,” Jack said, sounding put out.
“Duh,” Moses quipped. “So tell us some jive we don’t know, man.”
“Are you people okay?” Jess ventured at last, stepping out from behind Lucas’s broad back. “Did anybody get bitten?”
“Naw,” Jack said, standing. “Poor dog stinks.”
Lucas chuckled darkly. “There’s a news flash.”
“We got any more tomato juice?” Jack asked, looking as though he didn’t expect much help with the stray.
“Why?” asked Lucas. “You want to bathe that mutt?”
Jack shrugged. “He stinks.”
Lucas was frowning. Jess knew it wasn’t her place to give Jack permission. It was Lucas’s house, Lucas’s tomato juice. Even so, she held on to a ray of hope.
“If you want to do the work, there’s a big sink in the laundry room with a flexible shower head. Have Maxim get you what you need.”
“Huh?” Jack said, looking like he doubted his own hearing.
Jess smiled, and her heart went out to Lucas. These unexpected flashes of altruism startled her and pulled at her heart. She had no idea what had possessed him to be this giving—allowing yet another stinking creature into his pristine home. Maybe he’d had a mutt he’d loved once. Maybe he’d wanted a dog and never been able to have one.
“You go on back to the house now, Jack,” she said. “Wash the dog if you want.”
He looked at her with an expression that was almost affectionate, except for the mistrust that seemed to permanently hover in his eyes. Without another word, he patted the dog’s head and commanded gently, “Come on, boy,” then headed off at a gallop.
“Whew,” Suzy said, coming out from behind Larry. “I hate that stink! That Jack’s crazy.”
“I think it’s cool,” Annie insisted. “People who like dogs can’t be all bad. Maybe Jack isn’t such a total armpit.”
“Well,” Jess said, “now that that crisis is over, how’s the hunt going?”
There was a communal moan. “Not so hot,” Larry admitted.
Suzy laughed. “Yeah, Mr. Tracker’s been a ton of help.”
“Oh, stuff it!” Larry bellyached. “With you griping and whining about every little sound, thinking it was a bear or a rabid bat, how could we keep quiet enough to attract anything but smelly dogs!”
Jess pretended to check her watch. “It’s time we started back. Maybe the other team won’t have caught anything either.”
“No kiddin’,” Moses sneered. “With that duck, Molly Roberts, they’ll catch nothin’ but ugly. And I mean butt with two ts.”
“You’re the butt with two ts,” Suzy snapped. “So Molly’s shy and skinny and wears glasses. You’re sleazy, skinny and you got a butt-ugly attitude. Big flippin’ difference.”
Moses opened his mouth to retort, but Jess broke in, “Okay, enough character assassination for now.” Taking one of Larry’s and one of Moses’ hands, she steered them in the direction of the house. “Let’s head back and see how team two did.”
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Suzy and Annie each grab one of Lucas’s hands and begin to tug him forward. Unable to stop herself, she peeked at the man’s shadowed face. He was looking at her with a smug half grin—almost as though he thought she might be envious. How egotistical and idiotic of him! How utterly ridiculous! She sniffled huffily and turned away, demonstrating how little she cared that a few fourteen-year-old girls thought he was a “totally hot babe.”
It was a shame, however, that the imp in her brain kept tormenting, A totally hot babe—with haunting, tender kisses—
“ARE THERE REALLY ANY fish?” asked Larry Tenkiller. “Or is this another one of your fake snipe-hunt deals?”
Jess laughed. “I promise there are fish.” She sniffed the crisp morning air and smiled. “At least there’d better be, ’cause we’re supposed to eat our catch for lunch.”
“Gross,” Suzy chimed in. “Slimy, wiggly fish—with eyes? We have to eat them?”
Jess fingered a blond curl that had fallen over the girl’s eye. “Believe me, when you smell them cooking, you’ll change your mind.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jack off by himself as usual, but with a hairy companion. The stray mongrel he’d taken back and bathed in tomato juice last night was prancing and playing around him as if the frowning young man was now the dog’s own private property. Jess