Page 275 of The Billionaires

The word “romantic”—or was it “how?”—triggers something in Leo’s doggy brain, and he rips at the leash with all his might, causing it to slip out of my grip.

“Oh, no!” Jane exclaims. “Someone is about to get pushed into the mud!”

Fuck. Not that. I already have a wife candidate; I don’t need Leo to choose me another.

I start running, but Leo speeds up.

“Stop!” I yell. “Sit!”

The dog either doesn’t hear me or ignores the commands.

Maybe I should invest in those inhumane-seeming dog collars that have spikes? No way. But I could hire a team of dog catchers—assuming that’s a thing—so that they could walk nearby to intercept Leo when he does this.

At least he’s headed toward my chosen picnic spot, just much faster than is reasonable.

“Where is he going?” Jane pants from about a foot away.

Huh. She’s kept up with us? “I have no idea,” I reply over my shoulder.

Soon, though, I get an inkling, and I don’t like it one bit.

There’s a lady walking a King Poodle female in the distance. At least, I presume she’s female based on the dog’s pink collar and even pinker bow. The bitch—I mean the dog, of course—has recently received one of those signature pompadour haircuts that exposes the butt, and I strongly suspect said rear end is Leo’s destination. Not that I’m saying a female with her butt exposed is “asking for it” or anything like that. Besides, Leo is probably drawn to her smell, not the look.

“Leo, down!” I yell.

Nope.

He reaches the female, ignores the loud protestations of the human lady, and takes a good inhale of pedigreed poodle ass.

“Help!” the lady shouts.

I speed up because the poodle seems to be “flagging” Leo her interest—at least I assume that’s why she’s so pointedly showcasing her butt to him.

Just as Leo gets ready to mount, I arrive on the scene, grab his leash, and pull him away.

Leo gives me a betrayed look that seems to say, “Dude, cockblock much?”

The poodle glares at me too, and the meaning of her gaze is pretty much the same as that of Leo, but in French.

The human female clutches her pearls—yes, she’s wearing them—and is screaming things like, “Atrocity,” and “Diseased mutt,” and “I’ll neuter him myself!”

“No one is neutering anyone,” I say firmly. “Leo is very sorry, and so am I.”

Leo does look sorry… that I got there in time to stop him.

“Sorry?” the lady shouts. “He almost raped my Sisi.”

I look at Jane for help. The last thing I want to do as a guy is make excuses when it comes to sexual consent, even if we’re talking about dogs.

Jane peers at the poodle. “I think she’s in heat.”

“How dare you?” the lady snaps.

“See how her tail is curled to the side?” Jane points at the appendage in question. “Before she was fixed, that would happen to Lassie too.” Turning to me, Jane adds, “She was the dog we had when I was a kid.”

“Her tail does that from time to time,” the lady says, sounding unsure. “When she’s on her period.”

“One that comes every six months or so?” Jane asks.

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