Page 53 of The Bitter Rival

“I instantly recall where our clothes were lying, and I look back at him, my face red with anger that he could’ve seen her naked due to his lack of respect for my privacy.

“Don’t worry. I didn’t see anything. I was trying to sleep on your couch when I heard her heels on the floor. I didn’t want to freak her out by letting her see me or risk waking you up if she shouted. I only caught the back of her as she went out of the door. She was fully dressed.”

Well, that’s a relief.I feel eyes on me and glance up to see him staring at me in anticipation. I hunch my shoulders, attempting to look nonchalant, I’m sure I’m failing miserably. “What? She was a birthday present.” Try as I might, I cannot keep the grin off of my damn face.

“What happened to not bringing women back to your place? Ooooh, she’s a prostitute?”

“No,” I bark before I can think better of it.

“Cool your jets, Bas. I don’t mean any disrespect. I’m just needling you after the lecture I got the other day.”

Rubbing the nape of my neck, I’m not ready for this conversation.

“That woman is more than a birthday present, and you know it.” He lifts a fried egg carefully from the pan and places it onto a plate. “I haven’t seen you smile like that since-”

“Don’t!” I snarl.

He drops the other fried egg onto the plate, and I take it from him, grab the toast already sitting in the toaster, and walk toward the island to eat.

“You’re welcome,” he mutters before reaching for two more eggs. “All joking aside, Bas. I hope this girl works out for you. You deserve it.”

“Thanks. You know what I really deserve? A damn phone call before you come over here. Scratch that. Just don’t come over here.”

“Real nice, big brother.”

“If I finally wake up with a woman in my bed, and we stroll out here to get some coffee, the last thing I need is your sorry ass joining in.”

“Finally? I didn’t know this was a struggle for you.”

“Shut up.” I finish off my breakfast and grab my coffee to take to my bedroom. “Can you lock the door on your way out?” I shout as I return down the hall.

I have a few of the scheduled tests Kendal ordered later this morning; thus my office patients will not begin until 1:00 p.m. I open the garage door to take the recycling to the curb when I notice the chocolate lab has returned. Lying on the front porch, he sits up once he sees me.

What is up with this dog?

As I pull the recycling can down the drive, the Labrador retriever joins me. “I don’t have anything for you, pup.” I place the can at the edge of the curb and turn back, the dog hot on my heels. Could someone have moved and left this dog behind? I wonder if I should reach out to the local police station. As I return to the garage, the dog follows dutifully behind me.

“No, buddy. You can’t come in here. This is a dog-free zone.”

He tilts his head as if he is trying to comprehend what I’m saying.

He’s a beautiful dog. Reaching out, I rub his head and watch as he instantly lies down, rolling onto his back for me to rub his belly. “Shame, fella. If I was going to attempt a relationship, you’d probably be the only kind I could handle. But I’m worried I’d even screw that up, and then where would you be?”

Heading into the house, I close the garage door and look for my keys.

Pulling into the garage, I open the door and marvel at the abrupt change in weather. Work wasn’t bad today. I had a short day, got the blood tests and imaging done Kendal had ordered, and was able to leave the hospital at a decent hour. It was clear and sunny when I left work, but torrential downpours started midway home. I’d had a craving for pasta from Luigi’s, yet with this weather, I didn’t want to contend with running in and out of buildings carrying to-go food containers. So I opted to see what the personal chef may have left me.

Opening the fridge, I see another charcuterie tray, a fruit bowl, and what appears to be some sort of pesto pasta salad. Retrieving the items, I place them on the kitchen island as a large clap of thunder rumbles through the house. Not long after, I hear something at the door and wonder if perhaps, Isabella has returned. Walking briskly to the doorway, I grab for the door handle and notice that dog has returned and is sitting curled up by the door, soaking wet and shivering.

Oh, good grief.Turning to grab some kitchen towels, I run back and dry off the shivering mutt and usher him inside. It isn’t that cold out, but he is soaking wet. The dog follows me into the kitchen and sits beside the kitchen island as if he’s awaiting direction.

“I don’t know what you want from me. I’m the last house you should be coming to thinking someone’s going to give you treats or take you for walks.”

Again, with the head tilt. Undeterred by my rant, he lies down, resting his chin upon his paws.

Should I call the police and ask if anyone has reported a lost pet? Maybe I should take him to the pound? Hell, I’m not going back out in this mess. Looking down at the now sleeping dog, I decide one night won’t hurt. I’ll just keep him in the garage for one night.

Washing up, I return to my meal and notice Boomerang is now looking at my tray of meats with wide eyes.Hell. When’s the last time this poor dog has eaten?Is it healthy to give a dog deli meat?

---