Page 6 of Bodybuilders for the BBW

“Won’t need it.” As I jumped to my feet, the phone buzzed and one look at the screen let me know Mandie had texted me back. “Me and Katie? We’re a match made in heaven. We’ll be telling our grandkids about the smoothie you made that brought us together, just you wait.”

“God, you’re annoying when you’re into someone.” His smile made clear he didn’t really mean it. “But… it’s nice to see you back in the saddle, brother. It’s been a long time.”

I grinned and then opened the text from Mandie.

Chapter4

Katie

“Hello, my babies!”

The next day after work, I was in agony. Mandie warned me that the real pain would start the next day, and she wasn’t wrong. I was waddling down the aisle between the dog cages, every single pup there barking or wagging their tail as I passed, trying to get my attention. I’d spend time with each one of them, but first…

“How’s my boy!”

I needed to get Bronson out of the shelter somehow. I shared an apartment with my sister and the owner had made clear that bringing a massive pit bull cross was not going to happen, so I needed another solution, fast. Some dogs cope with being in a shelter, but some… In a noisy, crowded, unfamiliar environment, they close in on themselves, going into a depression-like spiral. Bronson barely looked up when I appeared at his cage, a little wag of his tail the only indication he heard me.

“Hey, fella.” I unlocked the door and then moved in slowly. “Hey…”

A quick sniff and he realised who it was. He scrambled to his feet and then ran into my arms as I crouched down. I didn’t even feel the pain of my protesting muscles as those frantic little whimpers started up. They killed me every time. I wrapped my arms around him, holding him tightly, giving him scratches on his stomach, then fondled his ears as I pulled back.

“I came back. I always come back, boy.” His muzzle nudged at my hand, demanding more pats. “So, how about a walk?”

The shelter staff loved it when I came to volunteer. Some of them were scared by Bronson, others found it hard to get him to respond. He’d just stay curled up in the back of his cage, unable to be drawn.

“It’s such a pity you can’t adopt him,” Marg, the shelter manager, had said.

I might not be able to, but I could get him out for a walk.

He was such a good dog, his tail smacking the floor rapidly as I produced the collar and lead. If I could just get someone to see what an amazing dog he was, then at least I could get him out of the shelter environment. I slid the collar over his head, then attached the lead and headed for the cage door.

“Hey, do you…?”

That masculine voice had Bronson planting his feet, not willing to take another step, and I held back a curse as I looked up.

Oh. My. Lanta.

What the hell was it with hot guys right now? It was like the universe had heard my resolution to keep the hell away from men and was throwing them in my path to tempt me. The guy had thick brown hair, deep brown eyes, was dressed in medical scrubs, and I needed to look the hell away and stop staring.

“Hey,” I said, just breathing that out.

Great, just great.

“Ah… hey.” That smile was a killer and those damn dimples. I shook my head as his bicep popped when he went to scratch at his neck. “I’m Garrett, and you are?”

“Oh god.” I slapped my forehead with my spare hand. “I’m Katie and this is Bronson. Say hello, Bronson.”

The dog looked at me and then the strange man, a natural wariness keeping him where he was. His feet shifted restlessly, but I led by example, stepping forward to greet the man. That seemed to be enough to convince Bronson that Garrett was OK to approach. The dog stumped forward, tail wagging nervously.

“Hello, big fella.” I watched the man go down to his knees, somehow knowing that would be less threatening to the dog, and that had Bronson feeling more confident immediately. All the sounds of the dogs barking frantically around me seemed to fade away the moment the two of them connected. Garrett’s hand went under the dog’s neck, scratching at his chest, which had Bronson’s back leg starting to kick. “You like that?”

“He does.” I could barely keep the awe out of my voice, and while I knew I was staring openly at the hot stranger in medical scrubs, I didn’t care. “He doesn’t do that for very many people, especially men. He was…”

Keep your cool, I thought furiously.Do not mess this up. No one connects with Bronson. This might be his opportunity to find a forever home.

I felt a wrench in my chest at the idea of never seeing the dog again, but that’s what shelters were about. Dogs were social creatures. Being locked in a cage drove them literally crazy, so finding good homes with people that loved them was all part of the job, but knowing that didn’t stop it from hurting.

“Someone hurt him,” Garrett said, his smile fading. His fingers followed the path of the old scars all across the dog’s body. “A lot.” He pulled back slightly to look Bronson over, but the dog had other ideas. I let out a little gasp as his front legs climbed onto Garrett’s legs. He was straining against the leash, wanting more pats, and I blinked fast to stop the tears from forming. “What kind of prick would do something like that?”

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