Page 15 of Wright Kind of Trouble

“Wow,” I muttered. “This is great.”

“Thanks. I’ve collected most of the pieces from antique stores over the years. My mom kept insisting I needed a design to bring it all together, and I only relented when she worked with a local company that refurbished antique pieces.”

“Juxtaposh?” I guessed.

He nodded. “You’ve been?”

“It’s the coolest place in town. She did a great job.”

“Yeah. I think the pièce de résistance is the record display.” He gestured to the far wall. “Take your pick. I’m going to let Bowie out.”

I strode across the room and examined the records. His favorites were in little slots on the wall with their covers facing outward. I saw The Beatles’ White Album, Bowie’s The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, Queen’s , Pink Floyd’s classic The Dark Side of the Moon, and even Nirvana’s Nevermind. As I fingered through the individual records in alphabetized containers for the rest of his immense collection, I found Led Zeppelin, Radiohead, Bruce Springsteen, AC/DC, Jimi Hendrix, and so many more.

I itched to take out each beautiful vinyl, lie on the floor, and listen for the next several days. There were so many classics here. My jealousy was primal and intense. I wanted all of them. Damn my mom for getting rid of her collection.

I was trailing my finger down the edge of The Doors self-titled album when a bark jolted me. I barely turned in time to find a frolicking golden retriever bounding toward me.

“Oh my goodness,” I gasped, dropping onto my heels. “Hello there, buddy.”

Bowie jumped up, putting both paws on my shoulders. I laughed, nearly toppling over from his enthusiasm.

“Bowie, down.”

“He’s fine,” I insisted.

But Bowie leaped back, running zoomies around the living room before colliding with Chase’s legs and nearly taking him out. Chase laughed and ruffled his ears.

“You mangy thing.”

Bowie responded by jumping to his feet and licking Chase from jaw to temple.

“God, Bowie, we need to teach you about consent.” He’d removed his suit jacket, and he used the sleeve of his white button-up to wipe off the slobber.

“Do dogs understand the concept of consent?”

Chase gestured to Bowie, who raced across the room and into my arms. “Not this dog.”

“Well, it’s fine,” I said, scratching his ears. “You’re such a good boy, aren’t you? The goodest boy.”

His tongue lolled out, and he leaned his head into my hand. I was already in love. I’d always wanted a dog, but Mom was a cat person, and we’d grown up with a tabby that hated me. It was a mutual feeling. Mom had sworn that since I wanted to exist in a Halloween movie, I should like cats, but alas, it was not to be.

“How long have you had him?”

“Just a year. That’s why he still has puppy energy. My sister’s friend had a litter, and she convinced me to take one.”

“Good choice.”

“Yeah,” he said with a head shake at his dog, who had just rolled over and given me his belly to scratch. “He’s fun, and he loves the water, so that’s a bonus. But he never took much to all the training he had. He’ll do it, but on his own terms.”

“That seems fair,” I said as I came to my feet. “I don’t take orders well either.”

Chase laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

My face flushed as our eyes met across the room. Well, I hadn’t meant it like that.

Chase just grinned at the color on my cheeks and patted his leg twice. “Okay, bud, let’s go outside.”

Bowie bounded toward him, and they headed toward the back door. I returned my attention to the records and tried to get my face to return to normal. I didn’t know how he flustered me so easily. I wasn’t the kind of girl who got like this about a guy, and yet Chase did it for me.

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