Page 17 of A Little Crush
“Still protective of Squeaks, huh?” Maverick asks with a laugh. “Guess it’s hard to turn off, even after all these years.”
Dodger spins Rory around again, complimenting her dress as a blush hits her cheeks.
“I’m gonna get some more fresh air,” I decide. Clapping Mav on the shoulder, I motion around the decorated space, adding, “Happy for you. This is gonna be epic.”
“Thanks, man.” He looks around the area and smiles, his expression clouding with pride and admiration. “Lia did a great job.”
“Yeah, she did. I’ll see you in a bit.”
“Sounds good. Don’t forget to grab some dinner inside.”
“I will,” I lie and make my way around the side of the grassy area instead of heading inside with the majority of the group. Call me an ass, but I’m not in the mood to face all the familiar faces I know are scattered inside the giant reception area. It’s not that I don’t want to see anyone. I just…really don’t want to see anyone. The Buchanans rented out the entire country club, and thankfully, the place is big enough to find some quiet, so I stay outside, hoping if I spend enough time out here, the fresh air will clear my mind.
Mufasa lounges on the trimmed grass beneath a tree, and I veer toward him, not even the slightest bit surprised he’s here. Besides, I’m anxious for a distraction. A compadre. I dunno. Something to help ease the tightness in my chest.
When the dog lifts its head, I stop short.
His dark chocolate eyes pin me in place as I stare back, curious to whom he belongs. His eyes are further apart than Fasa’s, and his nose is a little shorter.
“You’re not Fasa,” I mutter.
He studies me the same way I study him. As if he’s sizing me up. I keep my feet planted but shift my attention to the fresh-cut grass in an attempt to look less intimidating. I must pass his test because seconds later, he lays his head back on the green lawn. Slowly, I approach him and squat down, offering him a closed fist as an introduction. He lifts his head again, sniffs me, licks my knuckles, and nuzzles against my hand.
Satisfied I’m not gonna lose a finger, I say, “Hello to you, too, buddy.” I scratch the side of his head, then reach for his collar and read the tag.Hades.“Hades, huh?” The dog gruntsin response. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jax.” I shift my attention to his chocolate brown chin, rubbing gently. “You’re Rory’s dog, aren’t you?” I decide. “Yeah, I bet you are.” I plop down beside him and stretch out my legs beneath the tall oak tree. “How’s she doing?” I prod. Relaxing again, the dog rests his head in my lap. “You keeping a close eye on her?” His long sigh makes me smirk. “Yeah, I get it. Not always an easy job, am I right?” Patting his side, I smooth out the brown and black fur. It’s soft and clean, proving he had a bath recently. My fingers thread through the thick coat, and I tug gently. It’s thicker than Fasa’s. He’s a little meatier, too. I bet Rory spoils the shit out of him. “I’m glad you’re looking out for her,” I admit. And I am. The way things ended never sat well with me, and even though Rory and I have hashed it out since she’s been home, it doesn’t ease the guilt from our initial fallout. All the time we missed. It makes me curious, too. What she’s been up to. Who she’s been with. How long she’s been seeing Dodger. “So tell me,” I mutter. “What do we think of that guy? Dodger?” The dog lets out another grunt, nuzzling into my thigh. “That bad, huh? Yeah.” I sigh, grateful at leastsomeonefeels the same way I do. “Figured as much?—”
“What are you doing?” a feminine voice snaps.
Looking up, I find Rory marching toward me with a glare that could curdle milk. It isn’t directed at me, though. No, she’s glaring at her dog like he just got caught with his head in the garbage can or something.
“Is there a…problem?” I ask.
When she reaches us on the grass, she folds her arms. “Why are you touching my dog?”
Huh? This is what she’s mad about?
My eyes widen as I take in the animosity in her voice. “I’m sorry?” I frown. “Am I not allowed to touch your dog?”
“That’s not the point,” she huffs. “You didn’t know he wasmine, and going around touching random dogs is like, super stupid, Jax. What were you thinking?”
“I assumed he was Fasa until I got closer,” I explain, defending myself. “Then, he asked if he could have a good scratch, and who was I to tell him no, you know?”
Her mouth twitches…barely. But it’s enough to give me a glimpse of the less pissed version of herself I’m used to. She doesn’t cave entirely, though. Instead, she pins Hades with her stare again. It’s like she still can’t decide whether or not he deserves to stay in the doghouse fornotattacking me.
“I’m sorry I didn’t ask permission before petting him,” I add carefully. “It’s not his fault. It’s mine.”
Uncrossing her arms, she laces her fingers in front of her and lets out a sigh. “Thanks for taking the fall.”
“Anytime.”
“I’m sorry I snapped,” she adds. “It’s just…Hades doesn’t usually like people other than me, so I was a little surprised he let you touch him. That’s all.”
I glance down at my lap where Hades is still resting. “He seems to like me fine.”
Eyes narrowing, she scrutinizes her dog like he’s been swapped with an alien. “Surprisingly.”
My brows hitch. “It’s surprising that he likes me?”
“Not like that.” She peeks up at me again. “It’s just…he kind of failed out of service dog school, and like I said, he doesn’t usually like people in general, but especially guys, which has actually been kind of categorized in the plus column, now that I think about it. Then again, you’re Jaxon Thorne. I should’ve known he’d love you. You’re a good guy, not some sleazy, random…” Her lips press into a thin line. “Come on, Hades.” She turns around, not bothering to see if Hades follows.
