“That would be great, thanks.”
He nods wordlessly, then goes back to cooking our bacon.
Once he gets it as crispy as he likes it, he puts it on a plate with a paper towel to drain, then heads outside to get my phone. Scout is on the floor, torn between following his master to the door and begging for some of the food he smells cooking.
“Sorry boy, you can’t have any of this. It’s human food.”
Scout whines and barks at me as if in complaint, like he understood me.
“I don’t want your tummy to hurt. Maybe I can boil you some plain chicken later, how’s that? Or your dad can catch a fish and I’ll cook it so you can eat it. Better you than me,” I tell him, shuddering lightly.
He barks a little louder, wagging his tail and shooting me a hopeful look.
“You’re too hard to resist, do you know that?” I ask him. “Do you have doggy treats around here somewhere?”
When Brant comes back inside, I’m caught with my hand in the cookie box. Scout is sitting on the floor, wagging his tail, excited while he waits for a Milk-Bone.
Brant cocks a decidedly unimpressed eyebrow. “I leave you alone for two minutes and you’re giving him treats.”
“He was hungry,” I insist.
“He just finished his breakfast,” Brant states.
“He was cute?” I offer more honestly. “I can’t resist those big pitiful puppy dog eyes. He had me convinced he was starving.”
Brant shakes his head, walking over to the counter as he unwinds a cord and plugs in my charger.
I draw my hand out of the box and bend down to give Scout a treat. “Here you go, buddy. Enjoy it. I think your dad’s gonna cut you off.”
“I only give him treats if he’s done something to deserve a treat,” Brant informs me. “At least make him sit down or something.”
Scout is already licking his chops, but I hold the treat up and his gaze darts to it. “Sit.”
He promptly obeys my command and sits on his hind end.
“Good boy,” I tell him, giving him the small bone and petting the top of his head. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”
Brant shakes his head at me still giving Scout praise and affection for sitting. “You’re gonna spoil him rotten.”
Scout chomps on his Milk-Bone, his tail swinging enthusiastically.
Brant whistles and Scout looks back at him. Brant points firmly to the ground beside his feet and Scout obeys, going over to Brant’s side and lying down beside his feet. Once he’s there, though, he looks up at me longingly, like he wants to come back but he’s just too well trained to defy his alpha.
I cock my head as if unimpressed, and Brant just smirks. “Your wiles only get you so far here,” he informs me.
“I’d say brute force and bossing people around only gets you so far, but I guess it has gotten you everywhere you wanted to be,” I acknowledge, crossing to the counter and picking up my phone.
“Don’t turn that on yet,” he tells me. “You can text your sister after we eat.”
Once more, I cede to his bossiness and go over to wash my hands instead.
After we have breakfast, I’m finally allowed to message Amber.
With Brant hovering over my shoulder, watching what I’m typing, I tell my sister I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch, but one of the kids I’m watching spilled chocolate milk on my phone and I’ve had it in a bowl of rice, trying to dry it out. I tell her it’s still being wonky, but I just wanted to let her know I’m okay and I’ll see her soon. I tell her to give the kids hugs and kisses for me, and not to let Pappy forget to take his medication before bed.
“Is that some kind of signal?” Brant asks, narrowing his eyes in suspicion and grabbing my phone before I can press send.
Leaning my hip on the counter, I cross my arms over my chest and regard him. “No. Believe it or not, my sister and I never came up with a secret SOS signal in the event a madman ever kidnapped one of us.”
Pointing at the phone, unconvinced, he says, “This Pappy line seems unnatural.”
“It’s not,” I assure him. “Pappy is supposed to take his medication before bed, but half the time he falls asleep on the chair in the living room, so he forgets. Normally I’m home, so I wake him up with his pills and a glass of water and make sure he takes them before I go to bed. I don’t know if Amber will think to do it since that’s always my job.”
Still, the man eyes me up like I’m tricking him.
Sighing with annoyance, I tell him, “I don’t need rescuing! I like it here. Do you think I’m faking everything? To what end? It’s already Sunday—I assume you’re taking me home tomorrow. Why would I bother making a fuss now?”