Tapping Her (Billionaire Bad Boys 1.5)

“You have got to be shitting me,” Kline muttered to himself.

“Uh…Julie? You need that much…gear? Just to get our cat out of the cage?”

“Yes.” She nodded, face determined. “You’ll see.”

You’ll see? Talk about ominous. This just got worse and worse.

She stood in front of the cage and took a deep breath, mumbling something to herself. She looked like she was preparing to exchange gunfire with terrorists. Her hands shook as they unlatched the door and reached inside to nudge Stan off to the side.

I was starting to think this whole thing was a bit dramatic, but then, as she wrapped her gloves around Walter’s body, I realized it wasn’t dramatic at all. Not one bit. Hell, she probably should have worn more gear.

Walter screeched and clawed, banshee cries louder than I’d ever heard echoed through the room as he valiantly fought her efforts.

“It’s okay, Walter,” she cooed, but he wasn’t having one bit of it. His claws dug into the padding on her arms, making any question of its necessity vanish.

My hand covered my mouth in shock, and Kline just muttered, “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“Come on, Walter, your mom and dad are here to pick you up,” Julie soothed, trying her damnedest to comfort a cat who wanted no fucking comfort.

More screeching and clawing.

Was he holding on to the cage?

Stan woke up at that moment and started barking—loud, deep barks that filled the room and started to wake up the other dogs.

Within minutes, every animal was losing their shit.

Walter’s paws lost their grip on the cage, but somehow, he managed to latch himself onto Stan, holding on to him for dear life. Stan’s eyes found his, and they weren’t the angry eyes of a clawed dog, but those of a companion offering encouragement.

Oh. My. God. My buddy was in love!

That’s why he didn’t want to leave Stan. Tears filled my eyes as I watched Julie yank Walter out of the cage and slam the door shut. Stan stood on his legs, howling in distress. He’d found The One while Kline and I were on our honeymoon.

“We can’t tear them apart, Kline!” I cried. “They’re in love!”

Kline looked away from the sight of Julie wrestling Walter into a traveling crate, and his eyes met mine. His brow was scrunched, and he was staring at me like I had truly lost it.

“Kline, I’m being serious. They love each other. We can’t tear them apart.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face, muttering, “I’m going to fucking kill Thatch.”

Julie managed to get Walter inside the traveling crate and lock the door, and all I could do was watch as my cat and his new boyfriend cried for each other. Stan howled. Walter screeched. It was the saddest fucking thing I’d ever seen.

“Can we take Stan home?” I asked Julie.

“No,” my husband interjected. “Baby, I love you, I really do, but we are not taking that dog home with us.”

“But Kline,” I started to plead, but he wasn’t having it.

He shook his head. “He’s a Great Dane, Georgia. And he’s not even full grown yet. He probably has another fifty pounds to go. There is no way in hell we can bring him back to the apartment.”

Even though I knew he was right, I still wasn’t happy. I knew our co-op only allowed pets under twenty-five pounds, but I couldn’t stop myself from being irrationally angry with Kline for not letting us take Stan.

“We also have a two-week waiting period,” Julie offered, trying to smooth things over. When my eyes jumped to hers, she explained. “To see if anyone claims him. He’s a suspected lost pet too.”

Kline’s eyes were relieved. That made one of us.

“Fine,” I cried, then grabbed Walter’s crate, and stomped off toward the exit.

Kline followed quickly, but I turned to him just as we reached the door and pointed an irrational finger in his face. “You may not want a dog, but you’re gonna be needing a fucking dog house.”

Mic drop. Georgia out.

New York, Sunday, May 7th, Late Morning

We had been home for about a week since the vet debacle, and I’d managed to stop blaming Kline for the reason Stan wasn’t at our apartment, but Walter was still sulking.

Actually, we were both sulking.

For the past six days, if I wasn’t working, Walter and I were lying in bed, watching reruns of Friends together. He only seemed to perk up when the episode where Phoebe sings “Smelly Cat” was on. We had watched that episode, The One With The Baby On The Bus, a good fifteen times.

My husband did his best to cheer me up, but I still couldn’t get over the fact that Walter’s little kitty heart was breaking. It was his first true love, and it was playing out like an animal version of Romeo and Juliet. Well, without the families at war or the poison or the whole guy and girl scenario, but yeah, it was definitely a tragic, star-crossed love story.