Page 39 of Baby For The Billionaire Silver Fox

I looked at Dan anxiously. “Can’t all dogs swim? He doesn’t look like he knows how to doggy paddle. I can’t let him drown.” I started to pull my shoes off.

“Just give him another sec. He’s not going downstream, and it looks like he’s starting to get the hang of it.”

“Hey, Goober, why don’t you see if you can touch? It’s not deep,” Dan called out helpfully.

“Goober?” I asked.

“He answered to that name too.”

The dog apparently understood human because he did put his legs down and realized he could stand. He came at us doing a combination hop/freestyle stroke.

He finally reached the bank and happily shook all the excess water on us.

“Oh Buddy, I’m glad you’re okay! That mean old bird didn’t want to play. I’m sorry.” I hugged him fiercely.

Then I stood up and took a firm hold on the leash. “Let’s go,” I said and marched back the way we’d come.

“Hey, are you okay?” Dan asked, catching up with me.

“No. I won’t make a very good dog mom if I let things like this happen. It wasn’t very responsible of me. He could have been swept away, and it would have been my fault.”

“Give yourself a break. You’ve never had a dog. You didn’t know they could suddenly take off like that and pull the leash out of your hand if you’ve never had it happen before. But you know what? You learn. I bet this will never happen again.”

“Don’t be so diplomatic,” I huffed. “I’m in the middle of beating myself up.”

“I know you are. I know because I do that too,” Dan admitted.

“You? You’re… like… perfect. What on earth could you possibly kick yourself for?”

“Past mistakes.”

“Boy, don’t I know that one.”

“They may have happened in the past, but they affect everything from then on. Life takes a left turn that you weren’t counting on,” Dan said in seriousness.

I nodded my head in agreement. “Well, you’re preaching to the choir on that,” I said.

The dog trotted dutifully by my side as if he knew he’d scared the shit out of me. “You’re going to need a refresher course in doggie school,” I told him.

We arrived back at the parking lot and stopped at my car. I stooped down by the dog, who was still very wet. “Look, you, I don’t know what your name is, but you don’t seem to care as long as we don’t call you Mortimer. How about I call you Buddy? Because you get to be my little buddy?”

I looked up at Dan questioningly. “Is that okay with you?”

He was relaxing against my car. “Whatever you want. He’s your dog. Hey Buddy!” The dog’s ears perked up, and he cocked his head at Dan. “See? He likes it.”

“Do you have a hairdryer? I’d like to get him dry and fluffy before he meets his landlord. He needs to be looking his best so he doesn’t get rejected.

“You’re kidding. You know Nana will love him no matter what,” Dan said.

“Wait… wasn’t there supposed to be lunch involved now? I almost forgot. The separation anxiety experiment?”

“Ah yes, you’re right. Where do you want to go?”

“How about Thai?”

We took Buddy to the loft, and I gave him lots of kisses and reassurances that we would be back soon.

“I hope this goes okay,” I said as I crossed my fingers on the way to the car.

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