Page 67 of Never Kiss the Bad Boy

She shrugs, her eyes still on Whiskey. “More often than I’d like, usually not this young, though, fortunately. I mostly get adult dogs who’ve been turned away from the usual avenues for one reason or another. I take care of them, train them a bit, and find good homes for the ones who’re candidates for that. The others, well, they live here in my pack. Peanut Butter helps to socialize them and teach them some manners?—”

“Even though he has the manners of a wild raccoon that’s drunk on trashcan punch,” Kyle interjects, and they both laugh.

As if he knows he’s the topic of conversation, Peanut Butter runs across the yard out back with a cattle dog-looking breed hot on his tail. Peanut Butter dodges left and right, and the other dog herds him back to the fence line, keeping him running laps around the perimeter of the yard. It’s like zoomies amped up to eleven, with a game of ‘catch me if you can’ added in for shits and giggles.

“Not sure that’s going all that well,” I offer dryly.

Maggie glances at the two dogs, who freeze snout to snout for a second, and then, at some sign only they understand, take off again. “Actually, Gonzo is super high-energy and wants to be the boss at all times. Peanut Butter will let him run and herd and work until he’s a little tired because that’s the only way he’s receptive to learning what Peanut Butter wants to teach him. Kinda the same thing as having a kid dance their sillies out before you start class.”

“Like how you made me chase you all over the yard before you’d even talk to me without a growl in your voice,” Kyle teases, giving me a smirk that says he’s not too mad about my initial reluctance now.

Mostly joking back, I growl at him in imitation of a dog. He chuckles, which probably proves his point that we’re a work in progress.

I would never compare us to dogs, but Maggie’s description of Gonzo and Peanut Butter doesn’t seem too far off from us, and I think we both know it. When we started, I was all bossy energy and work-focused and automatically ignored Kyle and shut him out. But he didn’t give up, hounding me day after day, until I finally slowed down enough to consider him. And while I certainly don’t need to be taught manners the way Peanut Butter is doing with Gonzo, I think we’re both learning a lot… about ourselves, each other, and maybe what’s possible if we don’t get in our own way.

“In addition to Pee-Bee doing the pack work, Kyle helps me out around here by doing the stuff I’m getting too old to do,” Maggie says, returning to my previous question. She turns grateful eyes to Kyle, and he smiles back. “Or maybe I’m just glad to have someone else willing to do the dirty work of cleaning up the poo. Never would’ve thought Peanut Butter would bring me the best stray of all.” She bumps Kyle’s knee, and he ducks his chin, feigning bashfulness about the praise even though I think he loves it.

It sounds like Maggie is a good woman doing good work, and Kyle seems glad to help her, because as much as she saves these dogs, I think she gives him refuge too. He feels different here—lighter, but also more grounded, like this is his happy place.

“Tsk, I never thought rescuing a dog would get me a bonus grandma,” he quips, then adds, “and you’re not too old to do a damn thing, so stop making yourself out to be helpless.”

She chuckles, throwing her head back. “Well, I’m too old to do the things I don’t want to do, and if you’re offering, I’m gonna letcha go for it. Speaking of, there’s a light out in the kitchen if you wouldn’t mind changing the bulb for me, and I got the wire to tie up that section of fence that keeps popping.”

Kyle hops up like he’s happy to help with her to-do list. “Light, fence. On it.”

He hands the puppy he’s holding to me, and I can’t help but grin at double the doggie cuteness. I don’t even look up when he goes in the house, too lost in puppy noses and paws as I smush my face affectionately against one of the puppies, nuzzling it.

“I’m glad you came out today,” Maggie says, drawing my attention.

“Me too. You must love getting to snuggle puppies and play with dogs all the time.”

Maggie hums. “Yeah, when I get to do that. But it’s not all fun and games. These dogs, the ones that come to me? They’re hurt—sometimes physically, sometimes broken inside—or else they would’ve been fostered and adopted easily through the traditional routes. By the time they get to me, they’ve been through several homes or been wild on the streets, so sometimes, they don’t trust, they’re full of fear, or they have trauma reflexes that make them mean. It’s up to me to decide where to use my limited resources. That’s a heavy responsibility to bear because I can’t always save them all, and if I try, I might miss out on saving one that really deserves it because I wasted time on one that wasn’t salvageable.”

That sounds like a dark, ugly, painful truth of Maggie’s rescue and likely, so many others. It’s also true for people, in a lot of ways. Not everyone is worth the effort, but the ones who are deserve everything you have to give.

Like Kyle.

“I feel like we’re not talking about dogs,” I tell Maggie, seeing right through her rescue talk.

“I’m protective of my pack, and Kyle’s pack as much as any of them are. That boy’s been hurt, maybe not by something obvious like abuse, but his heart’s taken some hits. And somehow, he’s still such a sweetie and keeps offering that heart of gold to the people who hurt him again and again, hoping for a different response. Don’t do that to him. He can take it, and he’ll laugh it off, but it’ll be another scar on his tender spirit.”

Maggie knows about his family. That much is apparent.

“I won’t,” I vow, taking her words seriously. “I met some of his family. I’m not sure they got the best impression of me.” I’m still horrified and embarrassed at the scene I made. They probably think I’m a stage-five clinger with jealousy issues and a hothead temper. I’m not sure they’re wrong.

“You met his family?” Maggie asks, her shock obvious in her voice. “I don’t think Kyle’s ever introduced anyone to his family. Ever. Hell, they think I’m some woman he sees for… what do you kids call it? Friends with benefits? Which I can assure you I’m not, but he keeps everything close to his vest and doesn’t let anyone too deep. So if he’s brought you here and you met them, he’s in it with you. Don’t hurt him,” she says again.

“I don’t know if ‘introduced’ is the way I’d phrase it, but I met them when I sort of threw a pack of tortillas at him in Costco,” I correct, not wanting to give unwarranted weight to something that sounds really important. Her eyes flare sharply, and I rush to add, “But I won’t hurt him. Not really.”

Her gaze settles, and after a moment, there’s laughter dancing in her eyes and a tiny, sly grin on one side of her mouth. “Did he deserve it?”

I don’t get to answer because Kyle steps back into the garage, glancing back and forth between Maggie and me like we might’ve been conspiring against him in the few minutes he was gone.

“You hear all that?” Maggie asks him. “I had to tell Dani while you were eavesdropping, because we both know that if I tried to tell you to your face that I give a rat’s ass about you, you’d shut me down.” She gives him a motherly look, daring him to argue with her.

Maggie is shrewd, and I guess, was actually conspiring… though not against Kyle, but rather for him because I can’t help but see him in a different light after what she said.

And I realize she was running us both through laps so we’d be open to her lesson of the day. She’s a clever woman, which makes me like her even more.

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