Page 124 of Bodybuilders for the BBW

Those words sank in and he pulled away, running at full pelt towards the front door. I found the collar that Rhett and I had chosen hanging up on the hook and put it on Bronson before clipping on the lead.

“Don’t worry, boy, I’m getting you out of here.”

Chapter62

Katie

“That your dog making all that noise?”

My teeth were clenched tight, my grip on Bronson’s lead even tighter, so of course that’s whenhecomes marching up.

The dickhead who lived next door.

“You’ve got the balls to make complaints about my Max?” That was the yappy dog’s name. “When yours has been going off its head for hours.”

Hours? I looked down at Bronson and saw his defensive body language. Hunched back, ears flat to his head, he was trying to make himself as small as possible, and I understood that impulse perfectly.

This guy was standing over me, way too close, trying to use his height, his mass, the deep timbre of his voice to get me to back down, and normally I would. If this was happening at work, I’d bring out my best arsehole whisperer voice, trying to defuse the situation before it got worse. Outside of work, I shrank down just like Bronson did until the person left me alone.

But not this time.

I loosened my grip on the lead as I stepped forward, letting Bronson stay behind me, and got right in his space, making clear I wouldn’t back down.

“Like yours does? Day in, day out, the minute anyone makes a move in any of the neighbouring yards, your dog barks and barks and barks without stopping.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw some of the older people that lived on the street come out of their houses to watch what was going on. “Probably because the poor dog is just left in the backyard with nothing to do, going slowly insane.”

“He—”

I held up a hand.

“I’m not done talking. This is a nice street, a quiet street, and your dog is a bloody menace. The reason why mine was howling for hours was because he was traumatised by your dog’s aggression. Bronson is a rescue dog. He’s been through hell, and I thought he was being adopted into a home that could look after him, give him the peace he deserves. He had that until you and your stupid mutt moved in.”

The guy’s brows jerked down abruptly and his lips parted, ready to snap back at me.

“You don’t need to worry about Bronson. I’m taking him…” That’s when I faltered because I didn’t know where he could go. The man decided that was his time to interject, not knowing I had no interest in talking to him at all. “But you’ve got bigger problems than him. People are recording the noise your dog is making and they’re submitting it to the council. Unless you take some serious steps at behaviour modification, there won’t be a dog to complain about. He’ll be removed from your place and dumped at the pound.” I watched my hand like it was someone else’s, as I stabbed it into his chest. “Get your shit together, or that dog will get put down due to your negligence.”

“You fucking fat?—”

That was the moment the man surged forward. Don’t kill the messenger. There was a reason that saying existed, because of this natural human urge. The man didn’t want to hear what I had to say, wouldn’t. He’d much rather direct his aggression at me, just like his dog did Bronson, to deflect the truth of my words.

Well, Bronson wasn’t going to stand for that.

Pit bull terriers have a pretty bad reputation, and some deserve it and some don’t. My dog was usually a smiley goof who just wanted endless tummy rubs, but as the man went to grab me, some primal instinct kicked in. Not when his own life was on the line in the fighting ring, but because mine was. His snarl was ferocious and he propelled himself forward, all of that muscle used for explosive effect. It was the lead that saved the man, because it jerked on Bronson’s collar, stopping him from snapping his jaws around the man’s arm.

That had him finally stepping back.

One, two, three, then he scurried off to his front door, unlocking it and then slamming it shut. Bronson let out a few more warning growls and then sat down at my feet, looking up at me as if to say, ‘See Mum, got it sorted.’

Which meant I needed to fix everything else.

“You’re a good dog.” My eyes filled with tears as I bent down to scratch his tummy. He just panted, shooting me a doggy grin. “I have tried so hard to find the right place for you, and this…” I blinked and blinked, trying to see the house, but only getting a blur. “I don’t think this is it. I’m not sure where that is, but I’ll find it, I promise. Now, we need to go for a drive. Do you want to do that?”

He was up on his feet, scrambling towards my car and then leaping into the passenger side seat when I got in. Mandie’s words came back to me then, but not in the way she intended.

“I think it's past time we went back to the shelter and talked to Marg. She’s got lots of experience with this sort of thing. We’ll talk to her and see what she has to say. Sound like a plan?”

Bronson let out a sharp bark, indicating his approval.

“Hey!” Jo came out from behind the counter of the shelter office as soon as she caught sight of me. “Long time, no see, and you brought Bronson. Hey, buddy…” She wrinkled her nose as she got close. “Boy, you smell awful.” Her eyes flicked up to look into mine. “What happened? I thought the hotties were gonna be great dog dads.”

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