Page 22 of Taming Bull

I nodded wildly. “Absolutely. Stocks, meet Brahma. Or BB for short. And he’s a lot of dog for one person, so we should probably share him.”

Chuckling, Stocks bent to pat Brahma on the head. The dog let out a contented sigh, and turned to lick Stocks’s hand in thanks. “Aww. What a good boy.”

“Don’t let the sweet face and gratuitous kisses fool you. He’s a ferocious pit bull mix that will help you guard the castle and keep the residents safe.”

Stocks gave Brahma a skeptical eyebrow raise. “Ferocious, huh? You don’t say?”

Brahma blinked at me, also seemingly unconvinced. If there was a ferocious cell in his body, it had either slipped into a coma or been sacrificed to the doggy god of cuteness.

“Does Monica know you’re bringing home a dysfunctional guard dog?”

I covered Brahma’s ears against the insult. “Don’t worry, BB, dysfunctional is a requirement. You’ll fit right in.” To Stocks, I added, “Do you think I’m suicidal? Of course she knows. If I don’t clean up after him, she intends to kill me. Creatively.”

“That sounds about right. Well, I’m not mad about him. Growing up, I always wanted a dog, but my parents weren’t animal people. They still aren’t.” Stocks gave Brahma one last scratch behind the ears before starting up the truck.

I had the support of the man of the house. Now we just had to win over Monica. On the way home, I gave Brahma a quick pep-talk, filling him in about the lay of the land. He didn’t exactly promise not to poop in the house, but he did nudge my hand every time I stopped petting him. “You’ll get all the loves in the world as long as you kiss up to Monica when we get home,” I told him. I shouldn’t have worried. As soon as I led him inside, he wandered straight to the queen of our castle, sat at her feet, and gave her the same worshipful devotion he’d given me.

He was a smart little traitor.

“How am I supposed to be mad about that?” she asked, her expression softening as she gestured at the dog. He rolled over and showed her his belly in a surefire show of his pit bull viciousness. “Oh, God, he’s just a big teddy bear, isn’t he?” She bent and scratched his underside until his leg kicked so hard against the floor he sounded like a rabbit. “That’s the spot? Aww. You’re such a good boy, aren’t you?”

Introductions made, I turned my attention to my bag of groceries. The ice cream was suspiciously soft, but it didn’t quite slosh when I shook the container. I threw it in the freezer and hoped for the best. Depositing the rest of the goods on the counter, I washed my hands while scanning the ingredients Monica had set out.

Stocks kissed Monica on the forehead, and snorted at his pathetic excuse for a male ally. “Come on, Brahma, you’re embarrassing me. We need to work on those vicious guard dog skills.”

The dog reluctantly stood and followed Stocks out the door while Monica joined me at the sink. As we prepared breakfast sandwiches, we watched Stocks and Brahma through the windows. Stocks collected the molding from the truck and took it into the shop as Brahma teetered along behind him, stopping occasionally to sniff and pee on his new territory.

Stocks picked up a small stick and tossed it. Brahma unhurriedly trotted after the stick, and then brought it back, depositing it at Stocks’s feet. The resulting grin Stocks flashed us practically split his face in two.

“Just when I think that man can’t get any hotter…” Monica fanned herself. “Him playing with a dog shouldn’t be sexy, but it is.”

“If you want to see the true measure of a man, watch how he treats his inferiors, not his equals,” I quoted.

“I like that. Who said it?”

“J. K. Rowling.” At the blank stare she gave me, I added, “The creator of Hogwarts?”

Still no recognition in her expression.

“The unbelievably talented and amazing author of Harry Potter. How do you not know who J.K. Rowling is? She’s basically a literary god.” And, as a child abandoned by my parents, I’d often disappeared from my own shitty reality and into the magical fantasy of witches and wizards, pretending I was a chosen hero, too. Harry Potter and Grandma were probably the only things that kept me going for a while there.

“You’re so weird.”

She wasn’t wrong, so I didn’t argue.

* * *

Later that evening, we had guests. Havoc, the club’s sergeant at arms, was a big black man with arms that had to be twice the diameter of my thighs. His temper was legendary, and like Bull, he drove a tow truck for the club’s auto shop. He also ran the club’s security. He looked big and scary—always dressed in the club uniform of jeans, T-shirt, and cut—but he was one of the best people I’d ever met. Of course, I was biased since he’d risked himself to save me from Noah Kinlan, and always made me feel welcome and important when I visited the fire station. His wife, Julia, was a gorgeous redhead who owned a small bookstore and dressed like someone who’d never seen a clearance rack in her life. Classy, but never snobby. The two of them couldn’t be more different, but the way they looked at each other shattered all stereotypes and preconceived notions about couples.

They brought their baby, Marcus Jr., whose chubby cheeks and dark eyes captivated me from the moment Julia let me pull him out of his carrier. The four other shelter girls who were home crowded me, begging to hold the baby, but I refused to give him up. Turned out Brahma was also selfish. He followed me and Marcus to the rocking chair, sat at my feet, and gave the stink-eye to anyone who dared approach us.

Okay, he really just wagged his tail at them, but I imagined him growling and spitting protectively.

“You sure he’s okay around babies?” Havoc asked, watching Brahma like he might have to tackle the dog at any moment.

Brahma laid his head down demurely and kept right on wagging his tail.

I chuckled. “Yeah. He likes kids. His previous owner was a little boy.”

---