Leanne Banks - Hot Stuff

Pugg was waiting on the sidewalk. “Pugg decided there was something fishy going on, so Pugg is waiting to be convinced,” Pugg said.

Kellen pulled Cate to him and kissed her. It was gentle and lingering, and there was just a touch of tongue. Not so much that Cate felt he deserved a knee in the groin, but enough to give her an unexpected rush.

“Okay,” Pugg said. “Pugg is temporarily convinced. Cate didn’t drop-kick Kellen when Kellen kissed her, but Pugg still thinks there’s something rotten in Denmark. Are you sure you don’t want Pugg to walk you home, too?” he asked Cate.

“I’ll be fine,” Cate said, “but thank you for offering.”

“Pugg would put himself at personal risk for you. Pugg would carry you over mud puddles and walk on burning coals. Pugg would fly you to the moon.”

“Gotta go now,” Cate said, inching away.

“Pugg would climb the highest mountain. Pugg would rush into a burning building. Pugg would share his dessert.”

Cate and Kellen were half a block away, but they could still hear Pugg.

“Pugg would kill spiders and snakes and slugs and yucky things. Pugg would let you spank him.”

Kellen burst out laughing, and Cate clapped her hands over her ears and sprinted across the street.

Four blocks later, Cate stopped in front of Marty’s condo building. “I’m sorry about Pugg.”

“He’s okay,” Kellen said. “He’s just trying too hard. He needs to chill a little.” Kellen glanced at the building. “Is this where you live?”

“Yes. I sublet a room from someone.”

“I don’t suppose you’d want to invite me up.”

“No, but I appreciate the rescue from Pugg.”

“Another kiss?”

Cate smiled and key-fobbed the secure door open. “One was enough.”

“Not for me,” Kellen said. And it occurred to him that he might be in over his head on this one. He was liking Cate Madigan way too much.

The morning had been quiet so far. No threatening phone calls. No impromptu visits from Patrick Pugg. Marty was gone, and he hadn’t been specific about his return. It was a little after nine, and in the silent condo, with little to distract her, Cate was having a hard time forgetting Kellen McBride and the kiss. Truth was, it had been a fantastic, spectacular kiss.

Cate’s intercom buzzed, and her first reaction was to mutter a small prayer that it wasn’t Pugg.

“Yes?” she said into the intercom.

“Delivery for Martin Longfellow.”

Cate pushed the button to open the downstairs door. “Come on up.”

Minutes later, when the doorbell chimed, Cate opened the door with her coffee in hand and gaped at the man and dog standing in the hall. The man was average height and weight, wearing a shirt that said Rudy’s Security. The dog was a huge, slobbering beast.

“Dog delivery,” the man said.

“You have the wrong apartment.”

“It says here on the form that I gotta take him to 4A, and this here’s 4A.”

“Yes, but I didn’t order a dog.”

“Well, sweetheart, someone did.” He ripped the top sheet off the form and handed it to Cate. “Looks like the dog was bought by a guy named Marty Longfellow. I got a packet for you too. All the papers are in the packet.”

“No way.”

“Your lucky day, huh?”

“He’s going to have to go back.”

“Sorry, no returns. It says right on the bottom of the form, Rudy isn’t responsible for family disagreements. You bought him, and you got him.”

“But I didn’t buy him!”

“Does Marty Longfellow live here?”

“Yes.”

“End of argument.” He handed the leash to Cate. “Have a nice day, lady. I got a bag of food here in the hall. It comes with the dog. Rudy likes to see his dogs get off to a good start. Don’t want him getting hungry and eating the dining room table, right?”

“You’re kidding.”

“Sort of.” He threw the bag of food into the condo foyer and the dog took off for the bag. “Look at that,” the man said. “He’s making himself right at home.” And he backed up and closed the door.

Cate wrenched the door open and caught a glimpse of Rudy’s dog deliverer running down the hall. He punched the elevator button, the doors opened, and he jumped in. Cate blew out a sigh, closed and locked her door, and turned to the dog. The dog was sniffing around the bag of food, pawing it with his foot, and wagging his tail.

Cate opened the packet of information and shuffled through the papers. “It says here you’re a Bullmastiff, and your name is Beast. That figures.”

The dog’s hair was short, and a mixture of brown and black. His nose was smushed in like a bulldog’s. His ears were droopy. His neck was thick. His eyes were brown and soulful. He had a slight overbite and bags under his eyes. The top of his head was almost at Cate’s hip, and Cate guessed he weighed maybe 120 pounds.

“This is bad,” Cate said to Beast. “I know nothing about dogs. I’ve never had a dog. And don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re a dog and a half.”

Also in the packet was a note-sized envelope addressed to Cate. She recognized Marty’s scrawl, opened the envelope, and read the note.

Dear Cate,

I had to take off in such a rush, and then was so worried that you were alone in my condo fielding all those dreadful phone calls, that I took matters into my own hands and asked my friend Rudy to deliver one of his wonderful, specially trained guard dogs to keep you company. Not that I think anyone calling my number would actually be dangerous, but goodness, one can never be too careful these days. I know you’ll get along famously with Rudy’s dog and take good care of him until I return. Give him hugs for me and tell him daddy will be home soon.

Marty

Cate turned to the wall and rapped her forehead against it. Bang, bang, bang. “I don’t need this,” Cate said. “School starts in two weeks. What will I do if Marty isn’t home by then? What will I do now? I don’t think I like dogs. I’ve never had a dog relationship. And this dog is so big. And he’s not even attractive. And listen to me… I’m talking to myself.”

Cate dialed Marty’s cell phone and got his message service.

“Marty,” Cate said, “I know you meant well, but I don’t want a dog. I don’t know what to do with a dog. And this dog is huge. You have to get Rudy to take him back.”

Cate looked at Beast. “Sorry you had to hear that, but you’ve probably been there before. I bet you’ve been rejected a lot, what with being so big and… you know, not cute.”

Beast stopped clawing at the dog food bag and looked at Cate. He shook his head, and slobber escaped from his floppy lips and flew in all directions. He tried to scratch his ear with his back foot and fell over.

Holy cow, Cate thought. This dog is beyond not cute. This is a dog disaster.

Cate called Sharon. “I have a problem. Marty bought a dog, and I’ve got him here, and I don’t know what to do with him. Do you know anything about dogs?”

“I know that the food goes in and then the food goes out, and you have to scoop it up in a plastic sandwich bag or you get a ticket. And that’s why I don’t have a dog. What kind of dog is it?”

“Bullmastiff.”

“Forget the sandwich bag. You want to go with the gallon size. I’m in the middle of something here. I’ll stop over when I get home.”

Cate called Julie Lamb. Julie was a transplant from Birmingham, renting an unfurnished unit next to Sharon. She slept in a sleeping bag on the floor. Her small secondhand television sat on a sturdy cardboard box, and Julie sat on a lawn chair. That was the extent of her furniture. She had two pots and a fry pan, and she bought her morning coffee at the coffee shop two doors down. She was Cate’s age and had worked as a waitress since graduating from high school. She’d had a dream one night that she should move to Boston, and the next day she followed the dream. That was a little over a year ago, and she was still wondering about the dream, waiting for something wonderful to happen. She worked nights as a hostess on the party trolley. During the day she sat on her lawn chair and put her thoughts to paper.

“Hey, neighbor,” Julie said. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Marty bought a dog. It was just delivered, and Marty isn’t home, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with him. Do you know anything about dogs?”

“We always had an ol’ dawg at the house,” Julie said. “I’ll be right up.”

A couple of minutes later Julie was in front of Beast, hands on hips, smiling. “Jest look at this here dawg! He’s about the most adorable dawg I’ve ever seen. Look at his smushy face, and big brown eyes, and droopy ears.”

Beast gave a happy woof, put his two massive front paws on Julie’s chest, and they both went down to the ground.

“Woops,” Julie said. “He’s a biggun’.”

Julie was a honey blonde with blue eyes and an Alabama accent so thick it was like a foreign language. Her hair was straight and long and almost always in a ponytail. She was average height and had an average girl-next-door body… if that girl lived in Alabama and ate a lot of fried okra and grits.

“He’s supposed to be trained,” Cate said, wrestling Beast off Julie. “It says on his papers he’s a guard dog.”

Julie got up and plastered herself against a wall so she wouldn’t get knocked over if Beast got friendly again. “I don’t know anything about trained dogs. Mostly we jest opened the door, and the dog run out. And then when he was hungry he’d show up on the back stoop.”

“You didn’t have to walk him and pick his poop up in a bag?”

“Not in my neighborhood. We was all happy if we didn’t find old Mr. Lawson poopin’ on our lawns. We jest let the dogs do what comes natural.”

“I don’t suppose you’d want to take Beast?”

“Sweetie, I’d love to take Beast, but my landlord made it real clear I can’t have animals. I don’t know why not. I mean it’s not like the place is furnished. And what’s he gonna do to an aluminum lawn chair? I’d be happy to go walkin’ with you though.”