The dog however had different ideas, picking up the ball and trotting away in the opposite direction. And that, Paige supposed, was that. Still, she was disappointed. And not just because she’d miss out on some fun and games with Oliver but also, it was cold and wet and the thought of this dog out in the January weather just didn’t sit right.
But, she couldn’t force the animal into a warm, dry, freaking luxurious beach-side house of a famous dead British actor, could she?
As it turned out, she needn’t have worried. Casper was lying on the pavement, manky ball from the beach sitting beside him, waiting for her when she got back to the Mini half an hour later, two grocery bags in tow. Paige didn’t know how the dog knew it was her car – or Oliver’s car to be precise. Maybe hewasa ghost dog. She was just inordinately glad to see him as he lifted his head from the cold concrete of the footpath and wagged his tail.
‘Casper,’ she greeted with a grin and the dog stood, picking up the ball and wagging his tail some more.
If anything, he was even filthier than when she’d left him on the beach. He looked as if he’d detoured across a field on his jaunt to the car, finding every muddy wallow and possibly cow pat along the way. He was a total disaster zone and not even Paige could countenance putting him in the front seat.
Oliver probably deserved it and more, but she’d become quite partial to the pristine internal condition of the car and just couldn’t quite bring herself to do it.
‘Okay, but you’re going in the back, mister and into a bath as soon as we get home.’ Paige faltered at the ease with which that word had rolled off her tongue. It was not her home. It wasOliver’shome. Thanks to Harvey she’d probably never have her own home, never feel able to put down roots.
Pushingthataside, she peered sternly at the dog. ‘That is non-negotiable.’
The dog seemed agreeable and when she opened the boot, he obligingly jumped in, dropping the ball. But, as she was stashing her bags beside him, he decided to renege on the deal. In a blur of fur, he took another leap from the boot to the back seat and then, like he was used to manoeuvring around things, squeezed between the two front seats to claim the passenger one as his own, leaving a trail of sand and dirt in his wake.
Yeah, that was not the first time the dog had done that.
‘Casper!’ she gasped but all Paige could see from the boot were two ears fully pricked to attention and the swish of his tail.
Shutting the boot, Paige went around to the driver’s side and opened the door, prepared to chastise the animal. Crossing her arms, she injected a note of warning into her voice. ‘Casper.’
But Casper refused to even glance in her direction, his muzzle straight ahead as if she’d assigned him a role as navigator and he was ready and raring to go. Paige stared in dismay at the mud and sand smudges that decorated both the back and front seats.
Oliver would be pissed. She smiled to herself –perfect.
‘Hey Casper,’ she crooned as she reached for her phone.
The dog, obviously an expert in tone – even more evidence that he not only belonged to somebody but had been highly trained – turned his head with a tail thump, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. He looked right at her, the fur on his face and ruff utterly filthy, like he’d been dipped in a diluted mud-and-sand-pie mix.
She shook her head at him and snapped a pic. Climbing in the car, she shut the door and quickly sent it to the girls.
Just Desserts WhatsApp Group. 09.45GMT.
Paige
Guess who’s coming home with me?
Astrid
Is that a dog?
Paige
It sure is! I’ve called him Casper. The menagerie grows.
Sienna
Jaysus. Where did you find that? It looks like the creature from the black swamp.
Bella
Olly will have apoplexy! I approve this message 100%
* * *
Oliver didn’t think he was rare among men to admit that he enjoyed taking his morning constitutional. Maybe women did too – it wasn’t a conversation he’d ever had with one – but plenty of dudes he knew freely admitted the same. There was nothing quite as satisfying as those few peaceful minutes sitting on thethrone– so to speak – flicking through a magazine as bodily functions did their thing.