Page 24 of Brett and Rowdy
So it was really weird going to somebody’s house for the first time.
Not scary, not really.
But weird.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Ashley had asked when he told her he was leaving with Brett. He had kind of chuckled and nodded, because really, he was fine.
What was the worst that was going to happen? He was going to have to call Ashley and have her come to pick him up in the middle of fucking nowhere? It wasn’t like everybody didn’t know where Brett lived. The man was not actually out in the middle of nowhere, just right outside of town and his family had been there for eons.
“I have to tell you, I don’t know what to do here in this situation,” Brett admitted.
“Oh, this part is easy.” He’d had to train a hundred cowboys on how to have a blind boss. “I’ll hold your arm. We’ll walk to the door; it’ll be easy. Oh, and I’ll need to know if there are stairs or obstacles. I don’t really remember. It’s funny because now, once I go into your house, I’ll remember. But as a kid, I have totell you, thinking about this sort of thing, well, it just wasn’t a thing…”
Christ, he was babbling. He’d been trying so hard to go for like calm, cool, collected, and totally, terribly grown up.
So much for that.
“There’s no real stairs to go up to the porch. I mean, there are two, and then we just go on in. Or there’s a ramp if you’d rather, but it’s way longer. We put it in when my grandpa was not doing so well.” Sounded like Brett was a little nervous too. “When we get to the door, we’ll walk right into the front room.”
That he vaguely remembered. “The kitchen’s on the left. Your bedroom is on the right.”
“It was. Now I’ve got the master because… well, you know.”
Rowdy snorted. “Right? Because you’re not like seven years old anymore.”
“You never knew me at seven,” Brett shot back. “Seventeen? Yes. And no. I’m not seventeen anymore either. I don’t have to sneak my beer.”
“No, me neither. Hell, my daughter’s old enough to be legal to drink.” That blew his fucking mind. “You know how weird that is?”
Brett chuckled, and they started walking. It wasn’t quiet out here like it was at the ranch. There was more traffic.
“Do you have any dogs? And do you have a place for Barney to go to the bathroom?”
“Yes, and yes I have?—”
A baying set up. It was just about the loudest thing he’d ever heard. “Oh my God, do you have a hound dog?”
“I do; it’s a basset. His name is Mr. Mann.”
“Mmhmm. That’s a great name. Seriously. It’s absolutely wonderful.”
“Well, I mean, it’s not Jabber Jaws or Captain Caveman, but it’ll work.”
He stuck his tongue out at Brett. “You know, I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“You didn’t?”
“No, the first one was a Fred. I mean, what else was I gonna do? And really, by the time I get them, they’ve been around a bit. The pups, you know, they trained for a year at least, and that’s once they’re grown some. And the thing is, I use the same breeder and so, we kind of love it, and they love me, because I keep them after they retire. We have space. We have tons of things for them to do.”
Keys jingled. “I can’t imagine. Uh, so is Barney dog friendly?”
“Sure is. Mr. Mann?”
“He’s a basset hound. He loves everybody.” The ground was gravelly and unsteady under his feet, but thank God he was used to that. They made it up the stairs, the door opened, and Barney immediately moved in front of him as Brett went “oof.”
“No jumping. Sorry, he’s just a baby.”
“He sounds like he’s gorgeous. What color is he?” Colors didn’t mean so much to him anymore, but he liked to try to pretend that he remembered.
