“Of course not.” She concentrated on the dog, not the man. “He squats when he pees.” She forced the words past the dryness in her throat. “Mature male dogs, if they aren’t neutered early, lift their leg to pee. It’s a territorial marking thing. You don’t want that. Once a male starts spraying you can have a hard time keeping him from marking his territory inside as well as out.”
“I’ll call the clinic Monday morning and make an appointment to have him neutered.”
“We don’t know how old he is for sure, but he can be neutered at eight weeks so they should be able to do it.”
She talked to him about feeding schedules and about establishing who was the boss from the onset.
The puppy went to the bathroom. Dana told Josh to praise him. And grinned when he did so. There was something very endearing about such a perfect specimen of manhood bending over and congratulating ten pounds of matted fur on the little pile he’d just dropped. If there was a self-conscious bone in Josh Redmond’s body, he sure didn’t seem aware of its existence.
Maybe that was what endeared him to her more than anything else.
And when, another couple of minutes later, the puppy peed, Josh congratulated him again and they moved back into the house. He invited her to sit at his kitchen table. He offered her some iced tea and she accepted. “Here,” he said, drawing her attention to the can he held out to her.
“Oh, sorry,” she said, feeling the heat rise up to her cheeks. She’d been busy staring at the arsenal of cleaning supplies on the kitchen table. “It’s just—” she glanced back at the table “—laundry detergent, hand soap, liquid body soap, dish soap, dishwasher soap, bar soap, car wash, carpet detergent, upholstery cleaner...” They were all lined up, obviously brand-new, two brands of every single item.
“I...am on a mission to try the top two brands of each to find out which I like best,” he said.
She had the distinct feeling that he was making up every word as he went along. Someone who liked to clean also had brand preferences for every job.
But it wasn’t her business.
“Have you picked a name for him?” she asked instead, pointing to the puppy who was sound asleep with his head flopped against Josh’s chest.
He shook his head. “It didn’t occur to me.”
“The quickest way to teach him to come when he’s called is to call him only by one name, and to say that name every single time you speak to him. When you feed him, say his name and then the word eat, and put his food down. He’ll learn what eat means, too.”
“You called him Little Guy.”
“Because he’s male and little and I specifically was not naming him as I knew I wasn’t going to be able to keep him.”
“Did you want to?”
He was getting personal again. This wasn’t about her. Though...she kind of wanted it to be.
And while Dana was all about living her new life, about believing that she was just as good as everyone else, she wasn’t so far along on her journey that she was going to pursue the guy who had to be the hottest bachelor in town.
“I didn’t think I wanted another puppy, not anytime soon. I’ve got a kitten now. And my duplex is small. But after having Little Guy around for a couple of days...yeah, I’d like another puppy. A smaller one, though.”
“You should get one, then.”
Maybe. “Anyway, I recommend naming him. Soon.”
“I like Little Guy. It’s what he is.”
“He’s going to be huge.”
“So...all the more reason to remind him that no matter how big he gets, I’ll still be bigger, right?”
He grinned. She melted.
And got the hell out of there.
CHAPTER SEVEN
JOSH DIDN’T HAVE to wait until Monday to speak with Cassie Montford. His cell phone rang shortly after Dana Harris left Saturday, and he recognized the veterinarian’s number.
“Josh? This is Cassie Montford.”
Montford. Not Tate. She was on family business. He stiffened. “I assume you spoke with your husband?” he said, the Redmond in him coming out as he prepared to take control of the situation. To take control and not give off an iota of the emotion roiling around inside him. Getting his own way was all that mattered.
He didn’t want to leave town. Didn’t have any idea where he’d go.
“I’m sorry it took me so long to get back to you,” the older woman said. “I spoke with Sam last night but by the time we were alone and could talk it was too late to call you back. And I just got out of surgery now—a dog was hit by a car outside of town this morning....”