Page 37 of Boss Me Around

See what Christian thinks about it…

He’ll shut you down. Then, he’ll shut down sexy playtime, and you’ll miss out on all the banging you could have been doing for the next few weeks, the fearful voice in my head assures me. Or best-case scenario, he agrees to give dating a try, then dumps you three months later, just like he’s dumped every other woman in town. He is who he is, and he never pretended to be anyone different. Remember, like Maya Angelou said—when someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.

The inner voice is right. I should enjoy this for what it is instead of wishing for something more.

Pushing thoughts of how nice it would be to have Christian’s back—and to know he has mine—for the long haul, I hurry down the hall to the door to adoption room one, a private space where people can spend time with a potential pet one-on-one. Sheila is already there with Killer, still in his crate, and Raney is settling into the small sofa on the right side of the room as I swing inside.

“Hey, welcome to Furry Friends,” I say, forcing a polite smile for Raney, who looks much less smug than she did this past weekend. But she’s on my turf now, without her boyfriend to back her up. Luckily for her, I’m not the kind of person to press a home court advantage. “Ready to see your fur baby?”

“So ready,” Raney says, rubbing her palms anxiously on her acid-washed jeans. “I hope he isn’t mad at me. Killer is the sweetest, but boy can he hold a grudge. The one time Blinky and I left him by himself overnight to go to my stepsister’s wedding, he didn’t talk to us for a week. He was so pissed. Even though we gave him tons of food and put on that smooth jazz channel he likes while we were gone.”

“My dogs love jazz, too,” Sheila says warmly. “Killer might be a little stressed out from his time in the woods, but we’ll just sip our tea and give him time to come out of the crate on his own. What kind of tea do you prefer, Raney? I have Earl Grey, orange ginger, or chamomile.”

“The chamomile smells like feet, though,” I whisper, earning a good-natured eye roll from Sheila and an uncertain smile from Raney, as if she can’t tell if I’m making a joke at her expense. “Seriously,” I say. “I steer clear of the chamomile, but it can be soothing if you can tolerate the stink.”

“I’ll do the orange ginger then, I guess,” Raney says, glancing between us. “Thanks.”

“Same for me, please, Sheila,” I say.

“Perfect,” she says, gently unlatching the clasp on the crate sitting on the floor about five feet from the sofa and letting it swing open on its own. “I’ll go get that and be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

As the door closes behind her, Raney let’s out a soft sobbing sound. I look back to see her eyes filled with tears.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

She shakes her head, clearly fighting the tears. “I feel like shit. My baby’s scared to come out of that crate and be with me and it’s all my fault. I’m the one who put him in that costume and made him run off. I could tell he didn’t like it, but he looked so fucking cute, and there was a five-hundred-dollar prize for best pet costume…” She sniffs and shakes her head. “I could just slap myself. What if he’d been hurt out there in the woods? Or killed? He’s a house cat. He’s never been outside before, not even to play in the backyard. Blinky’s a big bird watcher and doesn’t want to put the bird population at risk.”

Wow. That’s not what I expected from Raney.

Or Blinky.

Maybe my old nemesis has a softer, gentler side, after all.

Coming to perch on the arm of the sofa beside her, I say, “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Everyone makes mistakes and it’s obvious you care a lot about him.”

“I do,” she rushes to assure me as we both watch the open crate and the ball of angry black fur crouched stubbornly at the back of it.

“He knows that. Just give him time. He’ll come around.” I turn to face her more fully. “I bet if we just chat and relax with our tea, he’ll feel left out and want to come join the fun.”

“I’m not a big tea drinker,” she says. “But it was cool of her to offer. She seems like a real nice lady. She your boss?”

“Kind of. We work in different departments, but she’s been here a lot longer. I absolutely defer to her expertise. She’s really sweet and would do anything for a furry friend in need. Killer couldn’t have asked for a better rescuer.”

Raney’s shoulders relax away from her ears. “I’m so glad she found him.” She glances past me before fixing her gaze on my face with more intensity than before. “Before she gets back, I wanted to tell you how sorry I am for saying that mean shit at the fair. There’s nothing wrong with you. Your ex is an asshole and you’re better off without him. He treated my friend like garbage, too. You’ve definitely leveled up with Christian McGuire.”

I’m about to assure her Christian and I are just friends, and he was only being protective on Saturday, when she pushes on in a softer voice, “But be careful with him, too, okay? I’ve heard some rumors about his bike shop. Bad rumors. I don’t know if he’s mixed up in the sketchy shit going down there or not, but if he is, he isn’t safe for you to be hanging around. You could get into trouble for just being his girl, you know. And I don’t want that for you. You’re a good person. I’ve always known that.” She glances down at the floor with a self-conscious shrug. “I was just jealous when we were kids. That’s why I did the things I did to you. But I always thought you were nice, and you proved that today. You could have kept the fact that your boss found Killer a secret and let him be adopted by someone else. But you didn’t and…that means a lot to me.”

“Of course. Truce?” I ask.

When she glances up from the floor, I offer her a real smile.

She nods, her lips curving, too. “Yeah. Truce. Why keep old enemies when you can make new friends, right?”

“Right,” I agree. I’m about to ask her more about Christian’s shop—what she’s heard is happening there and why I should be careful—but Killer chooses that moment to dash from his crate, straight into Raney’s lap.

“Oh my God, you scared me, psycho.” She giggles as she hugs the giant cat, who instantly rolls onto his back, yowling and chewing on her hands.

But he doesn’t break the skin or hurt Raney, and in a few seconds, he’s purring with his big eyes narrowed into happy slits. Then Sheila comes in and we’re all trying to balance tea and playing with a catnip mouse and before I know it, Raney is headed out the door with Killer on his leash—looking much happier to be there now that he’s not wearing an eye patch or peg leg—and the moment has passed.

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