Page 13 of Bully's Darkness
I disconnect, groaning out loud in frustration. I can’t make anything out on the CCTV, its images are too grainy. But I can make out her leaving alone, which I already knew seeing as she crashed right into me.
Chapter Five
Olivia
“I’m going on lunch,” calls Ann, my boss. She hired me exactly five years ago, when I decided I needed to rely less on the club and make a life for myself and Bully. From the second I met her, we hit it off. Her love for all animals, not just dogs, matches my own, and the second she let me wander around the rehoming unit and she saw how much I loved the dogs, she offered me the job.
Our aim is to rehome every single dog we take, and we’re good at it. “There’s a guy coming in any time,” she says, turning the appointment book towards me. “He only called half an hour ago, said he wanted to rehome an older dog.” We exchange an excited look. It’s not often we get someone looking for the older dogs. Everyone wants a puppy these days. “Exactly,” she says with a smile. “That’s why I got him straight in.”
I laugh. “Okay, go, I’ll be fine.” She heads for the door. “Be back before one. I have a lunch date, remember.”
“Promise,” she calls back.
It took all my courage to pick up the call I got this morning from an unknown number. Bria pushed me into it, knowing it would be last night’s guy. She then proceeded to listen in on the call, pinching me when I tried to get out of lunch. And even though I’m not looking for anything, and I seriously am not ready to move on, I know she’s right. I have to start moving forward and leaving Bully behind. Besides, as she pointed out, it takes some balls to call over texting, and I liked that he put in the effort.
The door opens, and I glance up. My heart stops beating as Bully saunters over with that stupid cheeky grin in place. “What are you doing here?” I ask briskly, pushing to stand. The guy is seriously pissing me off with his selective hearing.
“I booked an appointment,” he says, holding up his hands.
I scrub my hands over my face. “Jesus, Bully. Give me a fucking break.” When I look at him again, his expression has changed to sadness, piercing my heart.
“I want a dog. I thought this would be the best place to come.”
“You’ve never wanted a dog and now suddenly you do?”
“How do you know I didn’t want a dog?” he asks, frowning. “When did you ever ask me that question?”
I press my lips together in a fine line. “You’re not suitable.”
“You’ve not done the assessment.” I arch a brow, and he smirks. “The woman on the phone said you have to do one.”
I groan in annoyance as I snatch a clipboard off the side and thrust it towards him. “Fill this out,” I snap, and he takes it. I practically chuck a pen in his direction, and he catches it then takes a seat and begins to fill in the paperwork.
I sit back behind the desk, staring at my computer even though my mind is full of him. Just like always.How am I supposed to concentrate when he’s sitting right across from me looking fine?
“Where’s the jacket?” I ask, noting he’s missing his leather kutte.
“I thought my colours might give your boss the wrong impression.” It seems like such a small thing, but it’s a huge gesture. He’d usually not take his kutte off for anyone. I bite my lip to stop the small smile as I pretend to tap away on the keyboard like I’m busy.
Ten minutes later, he approaches the desk and places the board down. “All done.”
I take it and glance at his answers. “I don’t think we have anything to match you,” I say, shrugging. “But if we get anything, I’ll call you.”
“Maybe I can speak to the woman I talked to on the phone?” he asks, arching a brow.
“Look, we both know you don’t want a dog and you turned up here just to see me. I’m not going to give you a dog because I know you’re here for all the wrong reasons.”
His scowl deepens. “Yah know, Liv,” he mutters, leaning closer and fixing me with a penetrating look, “not everything is about you.”
I lean back, crossing my arms. “So, you really want a dog?”
“Ireallydo.”
I sigh. “Fine. Follow me.”
I drop the latch on the front door then lead Bully through to the kennels out back. The dogs immediately become restless, all rushing to the bars and barking. “We have three Staffordshire bull terriers,” I tell him, “all over the age of six.”
“What about that one?” he asks, stopping by Misty’s kennel.
