Page 46 of Goalie Interference

Like Remy, my helpful brain piped up.

Since I was driving, I’d stopped after one drink, and my head was clear. I’d made it through the gate and was close to the house when a small creature streaked across the driveway in front of my car. I braked hard then put the car in park, because I recognized that particular furball. Turning the car off, I stepped out to see if Beast was still around. I heard Remy calling Beast’s name.

“He was over here,” I yelled.

“Damn.” A moment later Remy showed in the headlights of my car. Messy hair, mouth curling downward, and as he spoke, just a hint of slurring, like he’d been drinking.

“Where’d he go?”

I pointed left, where Beast had vanished into the bushes. “He ran across the drive in front of me.”

“Fuck. Slipped out the door before I got a hold of the leash when I was taking him out to pee.”

“That’s why his leash was dragging behind him?”

Remy rubbed a hand across his face. “I stuck to beer so I wouldn’t get drunk. I’m responsible if he gets hurt.”

“He looked fine when he ran out in front of me… Is anything wrong?” Remy didn’t drink very often, from what I’d seen.

“No, no. Was out with the team, and…”

“I can help you look.”

He shook his head. “Not your problem.”

I shrugged. “If he didn’t have the leash, you could just wait for him to show up when he was hungry, but I wouldn’t want him to get stuck on a bush or something.”

A long, shuddering breath. “Right. Yeah. Beast!” he yelled suddenly, making me jump.

No response. I turned on my phone flashlight and headed in the direction I’d seen the dog go. Remy followed me, a little unsteady on his feet.

We searched for fifteen minutes, Remy hollering “Beast” until his voice got hoarse.

“Come on up to the house. You need some water,” I told him.

“I need to find Beast.”

I was familiar with this kind of stubbornness. “If your voice gives out, you won’t be able to do much.” I was pretty sure we’d have found him if he was actually caught by his leash, so when the dog got hungry or thirsty enough, he’d show up at Remy’sdoor. But if Remy was going to insist on hunting further, he needed water.

We weren’t far from the house, so he followed me, occasionally calling hoarsely for his dog. We went in through the garage, past the laundry room, and arrived in the kitchen. As I flicked on the light, I heard a scratching sound and turned to the patio doors. There was Beast, staring inside. And on the counter, staring back, was Goober.

For Pete’s sake.What was with these two?

“There’s your dog.” I pointed to the doors.

Remy rushed to open the patio door, forgetting that Goober was right there. I had no idea how she’d respond to some other animal in her space.

“Wait!”

But it was too late. Remy slid the doors open and Beast rushed in. Past Remy, whose reflexes were a little compromised, and stopped just below Goober.

Goober had a smug look on her face. She sat like an Egyptian goddess, tail wrapped around her front paws, and stared down at Beast. For once, Beast wasn’t growling. His tongue hung out the side of his mouth while he panted, watching the cat.

“What are they doing?” Remy asked, blinking in confusion.

Like I had any idea. “Whatever they were doing at your place.”

“Is the cat going to hurt him?”

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