It's Complicated: A Reservations Story

Goddamn it.

Clear your mind, asshole.

His mattress shifted, and his neatly arranged blankets were tugged from his body. Right. Julian blew out a breath and turned from his side to flop to his back. He cocked a brow as Woofer came to stand over him, lowering his face to look Julian in the eyes. Hot breath fanned Julian’s cheek as deep brown eyes pleaded for his attention.

“You’re the worst emotional support animal on this planet.”

Woofer’s tongue flopped out in response to those words. Julian instantly woke, bolting away, rolling to the side of the bed, knowing a long, wet lick was on its way if he didn’t take action. He drew the line at having wet dog mouth slobber all over his face.

Julian already had to deal with dog hair and destruction all over his small yet super-tidy apartment. Woofer had no boundaries at all. Which was Julian’s own damn fault. He wasn’t consistent with the dog as they had instructed him to be. Woofer was supposed to help ease Julian’s anxiety, but sometimes he wondered if maybe they had exaggerated the extent of Woofer’s obedience training. The damn dog thought he owned the entire place.

How Julian had ever been talked into getting a trained emotional support animal was beyond him. Unless emotional support meant anytime he sat down, the hundred-pound German shepherd sat on top of him, then they needed to redefine the term.

Julian slid his slippers on as he got to his feet, reaching for his robe at the end of the bed. With a glance at the time as he tied the belt in place, he finally acknowledged the dog.

“It’s five thirty in the fucking morning. What the hell’s wrong with you? Why do you always have to go outside before the sun even comes up?”

The dog completely misread Julian’s tone. Woofer spun around excitedly in circles, pawing and crumpling the sheet and blankets under his enormous body before he leaped off the end of the mattress. His nails scrabbled on the tile floor as the dog darted for the back door. Julian ran his fingers through his hair as he padded along after him.

Woofer had been given to him on a one-month trial basis. That had been three months ago. Every time Julian decided he wasn’t the right person to take care of another living being, especially an untrained, imbalanced oaf of an animal, Woofer gave him one of his special soul-warming, deep, brown-eyed stares that Julian couldn’t say goodbye to.

Apparently, Julian had a thing for beautiful whiskey-brown eyes.

Don’t think it.

Do not fucking think it.

“I’m serious. It ain’t happening. Stop the bullshit,” Julian scolded himself. Of course, it happened anyway. Dwelling on Beckett’s deep brown gaze stole Julian’s ability to think for one maybe two long seconds. The sexy cowboy filled his thoughts more than he’d ever willingly admit, especially to Thane.

Beckett smelled amazing. He could never quite place the exact scent of cologne the cowboy wore—

White-hot pain seared up Julian’s foot and leg. “Fuck!”

He’d misjudged the ridiculously large ottoman and clipped his toes on the edge.

Julian doubled over, grabbing for his foot. Hell, that hurt! Julian’s ass landed on the edge of the cushion that instantly wobbled then slid out from underneath him, dumping Julian on the floor.

He’d probably broken his toe on that stupid ottoman. His living room was just too small for his old, oversized, stupidly expensive furniture. His place in LA had been three times bigger than this one.

He sighed. He had never envisioned his life this way. As Julian’s toes throbbed, he looked around. Maybe his beloved LA pad was actually four or five times bigger than this one and certainly more modernized. Nothing like this cheap-ass nineties remodel of the seventies original build.

How did working-class people make it through their lives under all this oppression?

It could be the reason his parents were so damn uptight all the time.

Oh God no. He refused to think about his awful biological family right now.

Julian dropped his head back on the toe-assaulting ottoman as the dog’s wet tongue swiped across his cheek. He let go of a sigh and tucked his chin to his chest, feeling defeated as Woofer’s head dropped to his lap. The shepherd’s big body followed, settling on the floor beside Julian as if he weren’t the exact reason Julian had gotten out of bed in the first place.

He was helpless to do anything more than run his fingers through the thick fur and pet the dog who tried to comfort him.

“Come on.” Julian pushed up, getting to his feet as he reached for the leash hanging over the outside patio doorknob. He locked the metal latch in place on Woofer’s collar. The animal forcefully tugged Julian out the door.

A balmy breeze coated his skin as the sun’s rays barely peeked through the overcast sky. Woofer took off, the leash’s lead rope sent whizzing as the dog ran. Julian quickly clasped the small handle, holding on tight. He’d learned this lesson the hard way.