Page 8 of Bodybuilders for the BBW

“OK, well, if you fill out this form, we can start the process. We need some references, a phone number?—”

“I’d love to give you my number.”

I swallowed hard, keeping my eyes on the application form.

“And an address. Marg or one of the other staff will do a property visit to make sure your place is a safe place for a dog to live.”

“Not you?” he asked, leaning a little closer.

What the hell was this? My eyes narrowed slightly as I looked him over. I wasn’t seeing the hot guy right now, but a prospective owner for Bronson. While never that discriminate when it came to picking guys for myself, this dog deserved more than just to have some guy take him in for LOLs and then ignore Bronson once the new puppy thing wore off.

“Not often.” I forced myself to smile to soften my now frosty tone. “I’m a volunteer, so I normally just walk the dogs, clean out cages, and that sort of thing, but all the staff here are awesome. Thorough, but awesome. If you pass the inspection and your place looks like it’s suitable for a dog like Bronson, they’ll approve your application.”

“Right.” Was that a faint blush colouring his cheeks? I didn’t know because Garrett seemed to recover himself quickly. “So what do I need to know about passing an inspection?” he asked. “We have a decent yard that’s fenced off.”

The we had me softening. It wasn’t hard to imagine Garrett with a wife and a couple of kids, each one cuter than the last. The idea of Bronson becoming a treasured family pet warmed my heart, helping set me at ease, though… Why was Garrett getting flirty if he had a partner? I shook my head. That was none of my business, but Bronson was.

“It’s not a test you need to have the right answers for,” I replied, and then handed the piece of paper over. “It’s kind of like dating.” His eyes widened slightly. “I mean, we want to find the right home for the dogs we look after here.” I looked down the cage at each one of the dogs in turn. “What you need, what the dog needs, it might not be the same thing.” The kennel faded away and was replaced by something else. A terse discussion held in my car the night of the fire station Christmas party. “It’s not that you’re a bad person, or he’s a bad dog. Sometimes people just need different things.” I blinked, catching Garrett watching me closely. “Y’know?”

He nodded slowly, and was that a little sadness there in those brown depths? If it was, he blinked it away in seconds.

“OK, so include all my details… and my housemates?”

He seemed surprised by that.

“Have to make sure everyone that’s around the dog isn’t going to hurt him any further.” At that, I did something really impulsive. I pulled a pen from my pocket and then scribbled my phone number on the top of the application. “Look, I think you’re the right person to adopt Bronson, so if you have any questions, feel free to send me a text.”

At that, I got to my feet, trying really hard not to wince. I had muscles I didn’t even know I possessed complaining about the movement, but I stifled back a hiss, reclaiming Bronson’s leash.

“But me and this gorgeous boy need to get a walk in before the shelter closes for the day.”

Bronson was a little reluctant to come with me, but he got the idea quickly enough. I might not be a hot guy in scrubs, but I was going to break him out of doggie jail, make sure he felt the sun on his fur and the wind in his face, and that was almost as good. I turned and shot Garrett one last look as we went out the back door of the dog kennels, catching the moment he was hunched over the application, filling it in while sitting on the concrete floor.

“Doctor Hottie filledout the application for Bronson,” Jo told me when we returned from the walk. “He tore off the top margin, though.” She held it out to show me. “Any idea why?”

I saw the spot where my number had been written was removed entirely, but I just shook my head.

“No idea.”

It didn’t matter, none of it did except the dogs. I gave Bronson one last big pat before putting him back in his cage, trying not to see his distraught expression, before moving to the next cage and the next, grabbing those dogs to take out for a walk.

Chapter5

Garrett

I walked into the house I shared with Rhys and Rhett, barely feeling the key when I turned the lock. Not sure how I’d made it home, because my head wasn’t on the drive over from the shelter, nor was it here. I walked down the hall, seeing the shelter, the poor old pup, Bronson, and…

Her.

I could see why the shelter had her working for them. I’d walked in ready to adopt a cat, but as soon as I locked eyes with that cutie, the simple, easy to look after, far more self-sufficient cat idea was shoved aside. There was only her. Bronson’s eyes were trained on his mistress, and I had never felt such a moment of empathy with an animal. He stared at her like she was his whole world, and why the hell not? No doubt his fascination with the girl was for completely different reasons, but I saw that cloud of red hair and freckles, bloody freckles, her brown eyes almost hidden by her glasses, and was drawn closer.

Her babbled response, the way she delivered Bronson’s story in a great rush, it made clear that a cat was no longer in the cards. The guy needed out of that shelter now, and there was part of me that could never say no to a damsel in distress. Made me a good nurse, because helping people was pretty much the job, but his story? As she told it, I saw every abuse victim that had come through our emergency department, the bruised and the battered, and my teeth ground together. I’d have taken the dog even if he didn’t like me, but feeling him snuggle up against me. My hand had hovered, not wanting to freak him out, before giving his stout flanks a stroke. That memory had me grinning as I walked into the kitchen to find my flatmates working on dinner.

“Well, look at you.” Rhys smirked at the sight of me. “All smiley because you got to choose your kitty cat today.” He looked around me. “Where is the bloody thing, anyway?”

“We’re getting a dog,” I blurted out.

“What—?” Rhett started to say, looking up from the dining table where he was going through the bills.

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