The World According to Vince - Jane Harvey-Berrick Page 0,81
comfort from his dogs
“No,” I admitted with a soft sigh. “It’s not going well.”
He nodded, but didn’t look up.
“If I don’t make it home from court tomorrow, you’ll take care of me dogs, won’t you, Gracie?”
He looked so sad and defeated, and I felt like the worst lawyer in the history of the world, the worst friend, the worst almost-girlfriend ever.
He raised his head, meeting my eyes, then gave a wry smile and squeezed my hand, not an ounce of blame in his deep blue gaze.
We sat hand in hand as tears gathered in my eyes.
It was just plain wrong that this amazing human being, this crazy, kind, generous man could be facing prison. It was wrong! It wasn’t justice, even if it was the law. How could someone so sweet and genuine end up behind bars? Someone who only wanted to do good? A man that others had named the Canine Crusader?
How could he…
Wait…
WAIT!
Just wait a doggone minute! I was having an idea…
No, not an idea, a genuine epiphany … a revelation—not the kind with choirs of angels and baby cherubs shooting me with arrows of love—but an honest-to-goodness belief that we could still win this case.
Fascinating factoid: the phrase ‘doggone’ has nothing to do with dogs—it actually is a derivation of the more profane phrase ‘goddamn’.
“No!” I yelped, shooting up from the sofa and pacing the room.
“No?” Vince stared as his furry trio watched me with worried eyes. “You won’t look after me dogs?”
“No!” I laughed out loud. “No, I won’t look after them because you’re going to look after them!”
“I am?”
“You are!”
“I am!” he yelled, standing up with Tap under one arm and Zeus under the other as Tyson barked with surprise and joy.
For several minutes it was adorable mayhem with Vince chasing the dogs, catching them and kissing them, and receiving a thousand licks in the process, while I jumped up and down on the sofa, yelling like a Banshee, yelling like we’d already won.
Vince lifted me off the sofa, whirled me around and planted a firm kiss on my lips that turned soft and sweet and far too sensual.
“Put me down,” I said in a muffled voice, and he obligingly dropped me back onto the sofa, laughing as I bounced.
Then his beaming smile slipped slightly. “So, eh, a minute ago you thought we were going to lose, and now you think we’re going to win?” he asked carefully. “I know I’m not the sharpest mallet in the kitchen drawer, but how’s that work?”
“I know how we’re going to win,” I grinned at him. “I have a secret weapon!”
“You do?”
“I do.”
“Fookin’ fab!” he grinned at me, while I continued to laugh like a lunatic. “Okay, are you going to tell me what it is?”
“You,” I said with a wide smile.
“Me, what?” he asked, a puzzled frown marring his handsome face.
“You!” I laughed. “You’re my secret weapon! I’ve been doing this trial all wrong! I’ve told you to behave, be quiet, be a sensible and sober citizen. It’s all wrong!”
“Hang on a minute, being sensible and sober ain’t cutting the French mustard?”
“No! Because you’re not sensible and sober! You’re the kind of … of … adorable tosser … who breaks into animal shelters to save dogs from being euthanized! You’re the kind of hero who donates half a million dollars to help re-home dogs across the whole state of New York! You’re the giant jerk who breaks into Central Park Zoo to help an elderly lion find his way home! You’re completely crazy, and half of Manhattan is in love with the Canine Crusader!”
“Does that include you?” he asked with a hopeful grin.
“I refuse to answer that on the grounds that I could incriminate myself,” I said primly. “I’m pleading the Fifth. But ask me next week.”
“You can bet your bra and knickers on that!” he smirked. “So, what’s the big plan to win the case?”
I took a deep breath. “Be yourself.”
He blinked, a look of confusion that was completely adorable. “Be meself?”
“Yes! Be your own wonderful, crazy self in court. Let the jurors see the real Vincent Azzo, the real Canine Crusader. Let them see your passion; let them see the man who puts his own freedom on the line to ensure that unwanted dogs, scrapheap dogs, are wanted by him. Show them the real you, Vince.”
“Are you sure?”
“One hundred per cent.”
He scratched his head, his smile starting slow and growing bigger. “Be meself. I can do that,” he grinned. “I can definitely do that!”