Page 21 of Sweet on You
8
Lex
Iheld out my hand toward Ronnie. Draped over my palm was a lacy scrap of cloth, damp with dog drool. There’ve been many times since I met Ronnie that I’d imagined touching her wet panties… but this wasn’t what I had in mind at all. “Um… I presume these are yours?”
She snatched the panties out of my hand, her cheeks turning an adorable shade of pink, and ran to her bedroom, tossing them in there and slamming the door shut, shielding me from whatever mess Penny had created inside.
The dog’s tail thumped rapidly against the plush carpet and he immediately rolled onto his back, offering me his belly in submission. “Oh, boy. You are in some trouble, little man.”
Ronnie sighed as she glanced at the destroyed bedroom door behind me. “Can we take a raincheck on the hike?” Pulling her cell phone out of her pocket, she tapped away at the screen.
I nodded. “Of course.”
She gave me a weak smile. “Thanks.”
“Let me go get Frost out of the car and I’ll help you clean up downstairs.”
“You really don’t have to do that.”
I was halfway down the stairs when I turned and said, “I know. I’ll take care of the garbage.” The truth was, I’d take whatever time with Ronnie I could get. Even if it meant picking up garbage in her kitchen. And, I was desperately trying to avoid being home. Last night, I had called the mortgage broker Nate had given me and the lawyer Lana had suggested. Both of them told me they would have some answers by tonight.
Which meant that if I left, I’d just be sitting at home, staring at the picture of my daughter, wondering when and if I’d ever get to meet her.
“Is it such a good idea to bring Frost in? You’ve seen what Penny can do…” she gestured to her dog who was following me down the stairs.
I really wasn’t concerned about it. Frost was safe in her backpack. And Penny didn’t strike me as aggressive—this display was likely pent up energy or separation anxiety. “I’ll be cautious,” I said. “Where’s his leash? I’ll take Penny for a quick walk and be right back.”
She pointed at a small table beside the front door. The moment I reached for that leash, Penny leapt up, prancing around and scratching at the door. “Okay, okay. Hold on.”
It only took a few minutes for him to do his business and for me to grab Frost out of the backseat of my car. Penny barely batted an eyelash when he saw the cat in my bag. He sniffed her briefly through the dome and then tugged on the leash back toward the front door.
Meow.
“I know, Frost. Seemed too easy to me, too.”
I came back in and found Ronnie with a new garbage bag in hand, her phone pressed between her ear and shoulder. “Yvonne, he freaking busted the door down. Like, literally there is a hole in my bedroom door where he got out. And yet, you think a crate can hold this dog? He is thirty pounds of pure energy and muscle! And Cam said he doesn’t have time to fix the door for a week. In the meantime, where am I supposed to keep him when I’m out?”
I set Frost’s bag on top of the coffee table and unzipped it carefully, being sure to step onto Penny’s leash so that if he did decide to lunge, I could control him. Frost stepped out of her bag, stretching and looking down at Penny. The two went nose to nose and after a short moment Frost rubbed her forehead against his snout and Penny stood ramrod still, letting my cat pet against him.
Ronnie turned, nearly dropping the phone as she stared at Penny and Frost, pointing with the hand holding the garbage bag. “How… how is he so good with the cat? When he’s so bad with the dang door?”
I leaned over and took the garbage bag from her hands and took over cleaning up so she could talk to Yvonne. “The garbage and the door—that was separation anxiety. These two met through the bag outside and he seemed fine, so I figured I’d take a gamble once we got inside. Frost is a dog whisperer. Even the toughest dogs love her.”
I bent to pick up a crumpled ball of foil and dropped it into the garbage bag.
“Yes, yes, Yvonne. Iknowyou told me he was good with cats.” Ronnie rolled her eyes. “Okay, call me if you have any ideas.”
She hung up and dropped the phone onto the couch.
“Is this his first time acting out?” I asked, grabbing a few paper towel shreds that were spread around.
“For me, yeah.”
“That’s so weird. He was home alone yesterday when you went to work and then out to dinner, right? Separation anxiety usually is pretty consistent.”
She swallowed, looking down at her hands. “Yeah. About that. Penny isn’t actuallymydog.”
“What? What do you mean?” I’d had an inkling when she first mentioned a dog yesterday that it was a lie to get out of grabbing a drink with me. In the moment, yesterday, the lie hadn’t felt like too big a deal. But now… it would be weird. Like, she kept a lie going, rather than fess up to a fib that just slipped out of her mouth in panic. I felt like my throat was tied into a knot.
