Good Guys Love Dogs (18 page)

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GOOD GUYS LOVE DOGS

Ian shot a disgruntled look at
Smidge, who looked

offended by his
less-than-enthusiastic reception. “How

do you get rid of it?

“It's mostly a
wear-off thing.

Ian shook his head. “It
looks as if you're going to be

sleeping in the barn, girl.

Smidge whined and plopped down on
the ground,

still panting from her adventure.

Colby should have said goodbye then
and left Ian to

his own devices. But she found
herself lingering. “There

is one thing that might help.

“Hey, I'm willing
to try anything.

“Tomato juice.

Ian looked at her as if she'd just
suggested the dog

could fly to the moon. “I'd
like to see you make her drink

tomato juice.

Colby laughed. “You
don't make her drink it. You

bathe her in it.

“Bathe her in it?
She weighs eighty pounds.

Colby shoved her hands into her
pockets and rocked

back on her heels. “Yep.
We would need a lot of juice.

Ian eyed her skeptically. “Are
you serious?

“It won't get rid
of it completely. But it might make

her bearable.

The breeze threw a pungent whiff of
skunk in their

direction. “I'm
desperate enough to try that, he said. “If

I offered a pizza as compensation,
would you hang

around and help me de-skunk my son's
dog?

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INGLATH COOPER

If a couple of minutes ago had been
the time to not

involve herself further, now would
definitely be the point

to say she had to go. The words
formed but didn't make

it past her lips. There was
something about the way he

looked so darned appealing in his
paint-splattered shirt

and the thought of the empty house
waiting for her that

made her say, “Sure.
Why not?

He looked pleased by her agreement.
“Okay. Give

me a minute to put Her Smelliness in
her fenced yard,

and we'll go in search of tomato
juice. I don't have any. I

sure hope the stores around here do.

He reappeared in less than a minute,
car keys jangling

in his hand. “I'll
drive.

Colby slid into the passenger seat,
and they were off

down the driveway. He had the
windows down, and the

fall air teased the ends of her
hair. She suggested they try

Smitty's Market first, only a mile
or so away. He took a

right, and something about rolling
down a country road

with this man on a late September
evening felt free and

good. Too much so.

At Smitty's, they both hopped out
and went inside.

They searched an aisle or two before
locating three

quarts. They bought them all, then
headed on toward

town.

“How much do you
think we'll need? Ian asked.

“A lot more than
three quarts, she replied.

They hit five stores in all,
cleaning each one out.

They both laughed at the last stop
when the cashier asked

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GOOD GUYS LOVE DOGS

if they were having a Bloody Mary
party. “I wish, Ian

said.

Just outside the store, he added
with a grin, “I hope

there's not a run on tomato juice in
the next couple of

days. We've just depleted the town's
supply.

She smiled. “Definitely
created a shortage.

Back at the house, Ian followed
Colby's instructions

and procured a large tin tub from
the barn. They placed it

near the water hose at the back door
of the house. One

by one they opened the jars and
filled the tub with the

juice.

Ian rolled up his sleeves. “I'm
glad I don't have to

climb in there.

“Oh, this is
probably a terribly expensive skin

treatment at some swanky spa in
California.

Ian shook his head. “I
wouldn't doubt it.

Shoving up her own sleeves, she
said, “All right.

We're ready for her.

“But is she ready
for us?

“Probably not,
Colby said, smiling.

Ian let the dog out of the yard and
led her toward the

tub. Halfway there, Smidge must have
figured out what

was going on. She promptly put on
the brakes, her legs

stretched out in front of her like a
balking mule. “You

asked for this, you know, Ian said.

At the tub, Colby helped him lift
the reluctant dog

and place her in. She had never seen
a more offended-

looking animal. The dog stood with
one paw in the air as

if to say, “You
don't really expect me to do this, do you?

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INGLATH COOPER

While the skunk hadn't seemed to
bother her at all, the

tomato juice apparently ranked as a
grave indignity.

They used cups to douse her with the
liquid. She

stood statue-still, turning her nose
toward the rising

moon and letting out a protesting
howl every minute or

two.

“Okay. She needs
to soak for a while, Colby said

once they'd thoroughly doused her.
She pushed the dog's

fanny down so that most of her
skunk-scented fur was

submerged.

“So, how'd you
discover the tomato juice secret?

Ian asked. “Did
they teach you that in vet school?

“Nope. That came
from my grandmother. Actually, I

kind of had the same thing happen
when I was seven. I

was waiting for the school bus and
spotted a mother

skunk with three babies. I thought
they were cute, and

naturally I wanted to pet them, but
mama skunk had

different ideas.

“So you know
exactly what Smidge is going

through? he asked with a grin.

“I don't think
she minded as much as I did.

Ian smiled again, and they stood
there watching each

other. The moon hung high over his
left shoulder,

throwing shadowed light on his
well-defined face. Nine

o'clock on a Friday night, and she
was helping Ian

McKinley wash his dog and having
more fun than she'd

had in ages.

The moment shattered when Smidge
decided she'd

had enough. Standing in the tub, she
shook, nose to tail,

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GOOD GUYS LOVE DOGS

sending tomato juice flying in all
directions. Colby yelped

and jumped back. Ian sidestepped the
onslaught, too, but

not in time. They were both covered.
Faces, shirts, arms,

pants.

Colby looked at Ian and started
laughing. She

couldn't help it. Even his long,
dark eyelashes were

dripping with tomato juice.

Judging from his expression, she
didn't look any

better. His face broke into a grin,
and then he started

laughing, too.

With their attention diverted,
Smidge hopped out of

the tub and took off across the
grass, running circles

around the scattered old oak trees,
a reddish-black streak

in the moonlit yard.

Colby collapsed onto the ground,
still laughing,

holding her stomach now.

It took them a minute or two to
regain their

composure. Ian tried calling Smidge
back a couple of

times, but he failed to muster any
sternness, and the dog

definitely wasn't taking him
seriously. She wanted to play.

She raced forward, stopping just
short of him, barking

and then taking off in a flash,
fanny tucked low to the

ground.

“All right, have
your fun, he finally said, “but you've

got the rinse cycle to go yet.

Colby got up from the ground, wiping
her eyes. She

lifted one side of the tub and
helped him pour out the

juice. He turned on the water hose
and refilled the tub.

The water level rose slowly, and
again, Colby found

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INGLATH COOPER

herself studying him discreetly, his
hair tousled and damp

at the temples. His shirt was
plastered to his chest, now

polka-dotted with tomato juice, as
well as paint. His blue

jeans were in similar disrepair,
damp and molded to his

long legs in a way that did nothing
for her peace of mind.

She jerked her gaze upward and found
him giving her

a like perusal. Her hand went to her
hair, smoothing it

back. No doubt she looked a mess.
But that wasn't the

message she saw in his eyes. He
stared at her as if he

liked what he saw. The realization
did crazy things to her

insides.

An unexpected feeling of longing
swept through her,

a longing for something she'd
claimed not to need, not to

want. But she realized in that
instant what she had been

missing out on. Companionship.
Simple, basic

companionship. Someone with whom she
could do silly

things. Someone with whom she wanted
to let down her

guard. Be herself. She thought of
all her awful dates in

past years. The stiff dinners for
two, the awkward

silences at her door. None of them
had ever felt like this.

Maybe if they had, she would have
been able to put Doug

behind her long ago.

Shocked by her own thoughts, she
turned away and

called Smidge. The dog slunk toward
them, her head

bowed. They lifted her over the edge
of the tub, silent

now. They rinsed and rinsed until
all traces of the juice

were gone.

“I think it
really helped, Ian said, sounding

surprised.

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“It's still
there, but at least it's a little more subdued.

“The miracles of
modern medicine, he said.

“Sometimes the
simplest cures are the most

effective.

It felt so good, standing in the
moonlight with a

giant, wet yellow Lab between them.
The realization was

unsettling and more than a little
disturbing. Enough so

that she stepped back and said,
“I'd better get going.

“Hey, I promised
you a pizza. That's the least I can

do, considering how you just spent
your Friday night.

“I won't hold you
to that. It's late—

“Don't tell me
you didn't work up an appetite after

all this. Come on. I'll call it in
and you can get cleaned

up.

To stay longer would be to invite
something different

from what they'd shared so far. If
not on his part, then

certainly in her own mind. But she
really didn't want to

go. Shirking common sense, she said,
“Okay. Pizza, it is.

“Good, he said,
looking pleased. He turned Smidge

loose. The dog took off again,
cutting circles around the

house in obvious appreciation of her
freedom. Colby

followed Ian inside, where he said,
“You'll have to

pardon the construction. We've got a
little more to do

yet.

She'd never seen the inside of the
house. It did,

indeed, need work, but the actual
layout was every bit as

magnificent as the outside promised.
The foyer was two

stories high, and a mahogany
staircase wound from the

first floor to the second.

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INGLATH COOPER

“Would you like a
tour? he asked.

‘I'd love one.

He led her through the house,
stopping at the living

room first, a grand room of enormous
proportions with a

stone fireplace as large as a small
room. The kitchen was

equally big, with windows on two
sides. A butcher block

sat in the middle; copper pots
hanging above it.

Someone, probably Mabel, had placed
potted herbs on

the sill above the sink. A small
greenhouse opened up off

the kitchen, the perfect place to
raise tomatoes and

flowers year-round.

“As you can see,
Ian said, “I don't have much of a

green thumb. Mabel's been after me
to buy some plants.

“I think even I
could grow them in here, Colby said.

“And I'm known
for my brown thumb.

“Couldn't be
browner than mine. He led her

upstairs to what was apparently his
bedroom. This room,

too, was in need of redecoration,
the paint on the walls

circa 1960. The hardwood floor
needed refinishing. But a

beautiful cherry sleigh bed sat in
the center of the room.

Two matching nightstands graced the
sides of it. A

dresser in the same wood sat near
the window. Judging

by his choice of furniture, he had
excellent taste.

“The bathroom is
through there. He tilted his head

toward the open door on the other
side of the room. He

opened the closet and pulled out a
dark blue shirt. “This

will be too big, but at least it's
free of tomato juice. I'd

offer you some pants, too, but I
don't think they'd fit.

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“This is fine,
she said, taking the shirt from him,

feeling suddenly uneasy with the
thought of wearing his

clothes. It seemed personal in a way
that brought to mind

things she shouldn't be thinking
about.

Their gazes caught and held.
Outwardly, they were

guilty of nothing. She was standing
in his bedroom,

holding one of his newly laundered
shirts. Nothing

wrong with that. So why did it feel
as if there was?