Page 7 of Heart Me Up
Greg turned to Melanie instead. “You said he’s hot?”
“Oh, yes. Very. I’d do him in a heartbeat.” They both gazed at me expectantly.
“Oh, no.”
“Yes.” Greg was implacable. “You’re up.”Fuck me.“Also, you’ve got fur on your forehead.”
Fuckety fuck.
Chapter3
Foster
I pulledup in front of the Bark & Purr Pet Resort a little before 5:00pm. I’d checked out the website before heading over; the owners were two attractive guys in their thirties named Craig Thomas and Gregory Shaw. One was a short, curly-haired blond and the other a tall, dark-haired cover model-type. They didn’t appear to be bullies or evil bosses, but photos could be misleading.
The building was finished in Hill Country fieldstone with fenced yards on either side where employees and dogs playfully ran around on bright green fake grass. The employees were laughing and seemed happy in their jobs.
I was no expert on pet resorts, this being my first visit to one, but the photos on the website showed a clean-looking facility full of cheerful staff members petting cute dogs and cats. Google reviews were extremely positive. Glassdoor reviews contained some bitching from ex-employees, but most of the complaints were about the hours and hard work. No one mentioned being bullied.
The parking lot was pretty busy with cars going in and out. People walked up to the front doors or to the yards with empty leashes in their hands and walked back to their cars with dogs attached. Business was good.
When I entered the lobby I was greeted enthusiastically by no less than three people standing behind the counter, even though two of them were already helping customers. The décor was Texas chic, with lots of creamy stucco walls and rust-colored metal accents. The brown-haired ponytailed woman on the left asked me, “What can I help you with today?” She, along with the other employees, wore a bright blue polo displaying the company logo, and her nametag saidMelanie, Customer Service Manager.
I watched her eyes widen as they tracked from the folder in my hand to the badge clipped to my belt. “Hi, could I please speak to one of the owners? Or both if they’re available?”
Melanie’s eyes widened even more, and she glanced around the lobby, no doubt counting the customers who might be concerned about seeing a cop. She said, “Sure. Why don’t you wait in the office while I go find them?”
Okay, maybe I was slightly out of line letting her think I was here on official business, but the faster I could get this over with, the sooner I could sit in front of the TV with a beer. No doubt the owners of Bark & Purr, bullies or not, would agree with my priorities.
Melanie gestured for me to walk around the end of the counter, and I followed her through an open archway and then to a door immediately on the right. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get Greg and Craig for you right away.” After I entered the office, she pulled the door shut behind me. I wasn’t offended. After all, you didn’t want anyone who walked by speculating about why a cop was in the building.
The office was about ten feet by eight feet, with two desks and two side chairs. Photos of cute dogs and cats adorned the walls. The desk closest to the door was extremely neat, with a small stack of paper in a tray, a desk phone, a closed laptop and a photo of the dark-haired owner—I couldn’t remember which was which—with his arms around a gorgeous Hispanic guy. The second desk was comically different, holding several messy piles of paper, some of which covered the desk phone. An open laptop showing a black screen was shoved aside by a blue mug half-filled with coffee, two tennis balls, about ten sticky notes of various colors, and a framed photo of a Labrador-like black dog with a white chest. A bright blue polo was tossed carelessly across the seat of the desk chair. Based on the apparent success of the business, I guessed Greg and Craig had learned to work together despite their differing styles.
I shamelessly snooped—without touching anything, of course—through the papers on the messy desk. They were mostly invoices and printouts of what appeared to be pet feeding instructions. The sticky notes were more entertaining. “Call Ms. Hollis re: Falco’s hot spot,” “Rhea—address attendance issues,” “Out of femurs,” “Order for Kat: measuring cups, cotton balls, styptic powder, lube.”
I sat down in one of the side chairs to continue my wait and ponder what a pet resort might need lube for, but seconds later the office door opened and in walked a wet shirtless man holding a towel.
Well, now. I’d have to thank Silvia later. This was much more interesting than sitting at home in front of the TV.
The shirtless guy was not the one hugging the other guy in the photo, so this was Mr. Messy Desk, the blond one. And he was a lot more attractive in person—and shirtless—than in the picture on the website. He was several inches shorter than me, not too muscle-y but in good shape. His pretty, greenish-gray eyes were set off by his blond eyebrows. His hair was damp, but the ends were beginning to dry and curl up. He had a nice chest, but his jeans, holy shit, his jeans were soaking wet and clinging to his skin. He dressed left, I noted. The clumps of white fur all over him detracted nothing from the overall package.Damn.If he didn’t turn out to be a bully, would it be too much to ask for him to be single and into men?
When I dragged my gaze back up to Greg or Craig’s face, he seemed surprised to see me. “Um, sorry. I didn’t realize…. I mean, Melanie didn’t say you were waiting in here. I would have….” He trailed off, gesturing at his torso. Which gave me an excuse to check it out again without seeming like a creeper.
“No problem,” I said. “I’m sorry I interrupted, um, whatever you were doing.” He really was completely covered in wet dog hair. I couldn’t stop my grin.
Greg or Craig laughed and walked further into the office, pulling the door shut behind him. My dick told me it liked the sound of the door closing. I told it to behave.
“Yeah, a Great Pyrenees needed an emergency bath. They have a lot of hair.” He shrugged ruefully. “As you can tell.” He paused. “Greg has to finish drying the dog. Do we need to wait for him?”
“No, not at all. I don’t think I need to involve both of you.”
Craig—apparently, since Greg was the one still otherwise occupied—swiped ineffectively at himself with the towel before giving up. He dropped the towel on the desk and grabbed the shirt off the chair to put it on. Dammit.
“Okay. Um, I’m Craig Thomas.” He put his hand out to shake.
“I’m Foster Walkoviac. Thank you for seeing me.” I decided not to mention the white fur stuck to the side of his neck. He’d find it once it started to itch.
“Melanie said you’re with the police?” He stared at my badge. My dick liked him looking in its direction and tried to get his attention.
