“Hey, Little Guy, what’ve you got going on here?” Dana asked with a voice he wouldn’t mind hearing directed at him. The woman, who was obviously a lot more comfortable around animals than Josh was, held the squirming ball of fur up and away from her as she lifted him from the kennel to the sink in one swift arc.
“I’ll need a towel, some soap and a glass if you have one,” she said over her shoulder, already running water lightly into the basin as the dog did everything he could to claw himself away from the water and up her shirt. Somehow she managed to hold on to him—and keep him at bay.
Josh didn’t need a second invitation to vacate the scene of the disaster. Grabbing a couple of rolls of paper towels, a bottle of dog shampoo and his travel coffee mug, he made his way back to the bathroom. Josh wasn’t a religious man, but he prayed, anyway, all the way back to the bathroom where he could hear his rescuer in a continuous monologue with his new housemate.
He prayed, not for freedom from the demon, but for the dog’s very quick acclimation to the right way to live in a home. Josh was on a personal mission to think of others, to be aware of their needs and put them before his own, so the dog was staying.
He was going to keep it alive and well if it killed him.
Which it might.
Hurrying back into the bathroom with his sleeves rolled up and with every intention of getting dirty, he found the puppy soaking docilely in the sink, a slightly sad and bedraggled-looking thing, shivering as Dana held him in place.
And for the first time since he’d rolled into Shelter Valley, Josh felt relief.
CHAPTER SIX
WHERE TO BEGIN?
Holding a wet and subdued but very clean Little Guy wrapped in paper towels in her arms, Dana stood in the hallway of the ranch-style home waiting while Josh Redmond cleaned up his spare bathroom. The man was a sorry case when it came to dog ownership. And almost equally inept at cleaning.
The kennel and floor he did on his hands and knees. Then he used the same sponge on the sink that he’d used on the floor and the kennel—and used up the rest of the roll of paper towels, too.
He was trying.
And for that, she was okay with leaving the puppy in his care.
Once they’d had a talk.
She might only be a pet-placement volunteer, but she’d been volunteering in the veterinary clinic at home in Richmond since she was old enough to drive herself to and from the facility, and Cassie and Zack were depending on her to make decisions regarding the animals’ well-being and to report back to them if she thought there was a problem.
Knowing Little Guy as well as she did, she suggested that they have their first discussion outside, where the puppy could roam at will and not destroy anything.
Josh Redmond had no patio furniture. Or anything else in the six-foot-high block-fenced backyard with dirt and a few weeds for landscaping. Warm enough in her sweater, as long as she stayed in the sunshine, Dana stood on the small cement patio and watched the puppy as she said, “First problem, the kennel’s too big.”
Little Guy tripped over his front paws and rolled onto his head.
“I was told he was going to be a minimum of fifty pounds.”
“Eventually, yes. In the meantime, you can borrow kennels from the vet’s. It’s part of the service we offer the Love To Go Around adoptive families. His kennel should only be big enough for him to turn around in. It’ll help him feel more secure and dogs typically don’t go to the bathroom where they sleep, so if the kennel is only big enough for him to sleep in, chances are he won’t go to the bathroom until you come get him. And then, after he relieves himself outside, you praise him with great gusto so he’ll know he pleased you. That’s his goal in life, to please you.”
She was rambling. Sticking to what she knew best so she didn’t feel self-conscious and stupid. Dana had dated in high school. And had one serious boyfriend before Daniel had hooked her up with Keith, the troubled son of Daniel’s best friend, and made it almost impossible for her to keep peace in the family unless she agreed to date him.
But this was different. Josh Redmond was beyond gorgeous. And she was alone in his house with him.
“Did you keep him in a kennel during the couple of days you had him?” Josh asked.
“No, I didn’t have one. I locked him in the bathroom the first night. For about an hour.”
“And then what?” He quirked an eyebrow as he stood halfway across the patio, hands in his pockets, watching her.
The puppy bounded across the yard, falling as he went.
“I brought him into bed with me.”