Rescue me, p.1
Rescue Me, page 1
Rescue Me
Animal Attraction
Kameron Claire
Copyright © 2021 by Kameron Claire
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously based upon freely provided by fan submission. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Please respect the author and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials that would violate the author’s rights.
Dedicated to those who understand that bringing an animal into your home is for the span of a lifetime. However you come together, you’re entering a 10-30+ year relationship with your dog, cat, bird, snake, horse, etc.
Their love is unconditional, and yours is too,
and for that, I appreciate you!
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Epilogue
Also by Kameron Claire
Exclusives and Sneak Peeks
About the Author
1
Dorian
“What about this one?”
I sigh and hit the mute button on the remote before leaning over to glance at my twin sister DeeDee’s phone. “Too much hair.”
She swipes left. “And this one?”
“Too small and skinny. It’ll freeze to death the first cold snap we get.”
“Not if you put a coat on it.” She snaps.
Groaning, I roll my eyes. “I’m not getting a four-pound designer dog that requires a fur-lined coat to pee outside. Isn’t that the point of a dog? It comes equipped with all the outdoor wear it needs twenty-four-seven.”
“You can’t bitch about a dog shedding hair in one breath and then say you won’t put a coat on it in the next.”
“Sure I can.” I unmute the TV and catch the tail end of the sportscaster’s wrap-up about Sunday’s early games. My sister insists I need a dog, and while I do want one, I’ve been dragging my feet on pulling the trigger. I feel like if I was meant to have a dog, I’d just stumble upon one and that would be it.
It’s the same way I feel about a girlfriend.
Did I lose you? Yeah, this is usually where DeeDee groans and smacks me in the face with a throw pillow. But I’m not an online dating kind of guy, and they designed this rescue app like one of those blasted platforms, to include cute profiles, three glamour shots, and the whole swipe left or swipe right bullshit.
DeeDee shoves her phone in my face and snatches the remote out of my hand, turning off my TV.
“Hey, I'm watching that.”
She points at her phone in my hands. “And now you’re giving me your undivided attention for the next ten minutes. I’ve already set up all the important parameters—must be housebroken, and must be good with other dogs and kids.”
“Why kids?” I ask and roll my eyes when she points to her swollen belly. “Oh, yeah.”
“Swipe left for no, right for maybe.” She scoots forward until her butt is on the edge of the seat and then pushes herself up with a groan. I note that she’s taking the remote with her as she rounds the corner into the kitchen where her husband is making a sandwich. Her dog Brutus, also a rescue, follows her into the kitchen.
Refocusing my attention on the device in my hand, I swipe left on a few, not really reading them before a clever tagline grabs my attention.
“Hot studs or sexy ladies only apply.”
Because of the tagline, I scroll through the pictures. A cute gray and white pit bull mix, but honestly, half the dogs on here are pit bull mixes. This one, like all of them on this app, has three photographs. One is at the park surrounded by four other dogs, two of which look similar in build and stature, but with different coloring and markings. One is a spaniel of some sort, and the other is an even smaller dog, but I’m unsure what kind. The next picture is of the gray and white pit bull, on leash, running alongside a pair of smooth, bare, muscular legs. The last picture is of the dog sitting on a woman’s lap. Her head is cutoff—the woman’s, not the dog’s—but her torso, as well as a pair of fantastic tits, are acting as a backdrop for the dog to snuggle up against.
Yeah, if I had those as a pillow, I’d be snuggling up too.
The ad continues. “Hi, my name is Candy, but if you treat me right, you can call me whatever you like. I don’t really care what your gender or sexuality is, but you must be able to work that runway because I like to strut my stuff. I play great with other dogs, and would be the best sister to your little furless human. I have lots of love to give—I give as good as I get—and have yet to meet a treat or toy I didn’t like. But I need to keep up my svelte physique, so I’m going to need an active running partner during the day and a soft cuddly landing space at night. If you think you can handle me, send me a note and we’ll see if we click.”
I swipe right.
A few photos and left swipes later, I see another tagline that grabs my attention.
“Why play hard to get? Let’s skip all the bull and get into bed together.”
This has the same picture from Candy’s profile of the five dogs at the park, but the other two photos are different action shots. This dog is male, a pit bull mix, and has gray and brown markings. The second photo is of him sprawled out over the same female’s lap in a superman pose, its arms and legs sticking straight out. In this photo I can see the woman is wearing a Green Bay Packers T-shirt, one of my favorite football teams, and I’m even more intrigued. The last photo is of the dog laying on its back in a fuzzy pink bed, paws haphazardly in the air, with its tongue hanging out of his mouth. The ad reads, “Need a little something extra to chase away those lonely nights? Well, I’m the boy for you. While I love to play hard, I love snuggling up with the person I love even more. Are you that person? I’m great with kids and other dogs, but I’d really like to bond with that special person, and will love you forever if you let me. If you like to give and receive affection, send me a note. I promise you won’t regret bringing me into your bed. Until we meet in person, Romeo.”
Again, I swipe right, if for no other reason than these ads amuse me.
The next ad has another cleverly worded tagline. By now I’ve pinpointed the author’s style, and I want to meet her and her foster furkids.
“I bet your thumb is sore from swiping left. Swipe right now before you sprain something.”
Again with the three pictures, the first of which is the same pack as the other two ads. This is the black and gray pit bull mix with a pink and black nose. There’s a picture of her with a giant pink flower attached to her collar sitting prettily, almost posing, and the third picture is her cuddling a teddy bear. It’s damn adorable, and then I read the ad. “Don’t let my cuteness fool you. I’m a vixen behind this sweet facade. My sole mission is to have you wrapped around my paw in no time. Despite my young age, and the fact that I get along with my housemates, sometimes I think I’m the bad B in charge and need a firm yet gentle hand to remind me of my place in the pack. Think you can love me while providing me with structure and discipline at the same time? If you can, I promise I’ll be your good girl. XOXO Chastity.”
I swipe right at the same time DeeDee comes in and hands me a plate with a sandwich on it. “Did you find one?”
Taking the plate, I hand her phone back to her. “Take a look.”
She sits beside me and reads the three profiles. “These are cute, but something tells me you’re more interested in the author than the dogs.”
“Can’t I be interested in both?” I take a huge bite of my sandwich and waggle my eyebrows.
Shaking her head, she re-focuses her attention on her phone. “Well, it’ll take nothing to schedule an appointment to meet the dogs. With profiles like these, I bet they won’t be available for long. I’ll send her a note now, and we can go over and meet them.”
“Is it that simple?”
“Not exactly. There will be some back and forth, and then you’ll meet the dogs, and she’ll want to come over here and do a home check before she approves your adoption request. You know, the basics. Which one are you most interested in?”
I take a deep breath. “I don’t know. Which one do you think Brutus will get along with best?”
“Brutus is easygoing, so I think he’ll be cool no matter what.”
Snatching the remote from her, I turn the TV back on and switch it to Sunday afternoon football. “So, let’s meet all three and go from there.”
“Okay.” Her fingers type feverishly on the keypad. “Sending a request to meet now.”
2
Cersei
I’ve been a foster mom for a couple years, but when three pit bull puppies from one litter arrived at the rescue, I couldn’t fathom breaking them up. So I took all three, and while I’d love to keep all of them, my house and yard are too small for five full grown dogs.
When not playing foster mom, I’m a romance author and part-time editor for indie published authors, which gives me the flexibility to work from home and meet potential families as needed. Two hours ago, I posted ads for Candy, Romeo, and Chastity, but conside
Meanwhile, I’ve got three little love bugs turning into super active adolescent dogs with their own personalities, and I need to find proper homes where I’m positive they’ll get all the love and devotion they deserve. My ads get a lot of responses. I write them like dating profiles, which draw the occasional creep, but it’s worth weeding through them to get to great families looking to provide a forever home to one of my foster furkids.
I check my inbox and find over twenty applications between the three dogs. I quickly parse them into maybes and trash, but one response gets my attention.
Their profile reads: “To whom it may concern. My name is Dorian. I’m a single guy with a lot of love to give, a bed to share, a home to live in, and a yard to play about. I work tech support from my home office during the day, so I’ll be around to make sure my fur kid gets plenty of attention, but I’m no couch potato. I also coach intramural softball in the spring and flag football in the fall, so I’m very active and would love a running partner and team mascot for everyone to love on between innings or quarters. My sister has a pit bull mix, Brutus, rescued a little over a year ago, so if you choose me, my new fur baby will have an instant big brother from whom to learn and bond. Attached are a few photos of me, my yard, and my family. Hope to hear from you soon.”
They wrote an additional note to go along with their profile. “I live right around the corner from one of the best parks in the state, so Candy, Romeo, or Chastity will get plenty of outdoor exercise and socialization. BTW - I love the ads.”
I click through the photos of a nice yard, and a family photo with two guys and a pregnant woman with an obviously loved white pittie, but I stop on the photo of a hot guy in a formfitting T-shirt and track pants. He’s got dark blond hair and a set of deep inset dimples, his blue-green eyes sparkling while he’s kneeling next to the pit bull.
The man’s hot. Not that his looks will play into my decision of where I place one of the babies, but he causes me to pause with my cursor over the reply button.
And then I give in.
“Dorian. Thank you so much for your interest and devotion to rescue. I love the yard and note with pictures of the family and Brutus. He looks to be about one to two years old, so I agree, he’ll be a fabulous big brother. The fact you have a rescued pit bull in your family tells me a lot about you and your sister. Chiefly, you understand the breed and the enthusiastic love they are desperate to give. Attached is an application. Please indicate which dog you’re most interested in and I will get back to you shortly. Cersei.”
I get a reply within minutes, before I have a chance to send applications to anyone else.
“Hi Cersei. Attached is my application, but I have not indicated which dog because, if possible, I’d like to meet all three. I’m about to enter a ten to fifteen year relationship, and I think meeting all three and letting them pick me is just as important as me choosing them. I understand if one or all might already be spoken for, but if it would be possible to meet them, I can make myself available anytime. If texting would be faster, here is my number. Thanks, Dorian.”
I smile. I can’t help it, but right now, this guy seems like the perfect candidate. I love that he acknowledges the lifetime commitment as well as the importance of the dog choosing him as much as he chooses them. I put the other applicants on hold—I can wait a day—and pull my phone out to text to Dorian.
“Hey Dorian, this is Cersei with the puppies. After reviewing your application, I’d love for you and your family to come meet them. While this would be our initial meeting, I’ll still need to do a home check, and would like to meet Brutus, if that would be possible. In other words, you wouldn’t be able to take a puppy home immediately. Can you stop by this afternoon, or would tomorrow morning be better?”
He texts back. “I can come anytime. Just give me an address and a time, and I’ll make my schedule work around yours.”
Glancing at the clock, we have a little over an hour before Sunday Night Football, and my team, the Green Bay Packers, play. I don’t have many vices, but I love watching my team.
“Could you come now? Here’s my address.”
“You’re ten minutes away from my house, so I’ll be there in fifteen.”
“See you then.” Taking a quick glance around my house, I shrug at the mess that is mostly the by-product of having three rambunctious puppies on the loose. I turn on the pre-game commentary and throw a frozen pizza into the oven. I have to admit, I’m not the most domesticated woman on the planet. I don’t really cook, at least not anything that requires a recipe or measuring cups, and while I’m clean, I’m not tidy. I shut the mountain of clothes, towels, and bedding behind the laundry room door, the fine line between clean and dirty clothes only decipherable by me. My dining room table is stacked with boxes of paperbacks and author swag for an upcoming conference.
The doorbell rings and the dogs go crazy, barking and carrying on, something the pitties are learning from their big sister, my eight-year-old spaniel, Datsun, named after my first beat up clunker in high school. “Just a minute.” I yell at the door at the same time I shoo the dogs outside.
Swinging open my front door, it’s only after I’m confronted by pure sex on my doorstep that I remember I’m wearing GB flannel pajama pants with an oversized Green Bay jersey, no makeup, and I think that last time I washed my hair was yesterday. No, actually, I think it was Friday night. At least I hope it was. I run my tongue over my teeth, thankful that I’ve got a thing about my pearly whites and brush at least twice, if not three times a day.
“Dorian?” I smile and extend my hand. Photographs do not do this man justice. He’s got the shoulders of a lineman and a barrel chest covered by a GB Packers T-shirt, his eyes sparkling as he takes in my jersey.
“You must be Cersei.” He shakes my hand. “Go Pack Go.”
I laugh and motion for him to enter, my mind going somewhere dirty at the sight of his gray sweatpants. And while I won’t allow myself to be caught ogling a stranger who is here to meet my foster furkids, I can’t help but check out his rear as he walks ahead of me. “A little over thirty-minutes and counting.”
“Yeah. It should be a good game.” He smiles as he walks into my home, his gaze bouncing all over before resting on the pile of books on my dining room table. “Are you a fan of this author?”
“You can say that.” I shrug and motion for him to follow me into the sunroom at the back of the house. I rarely tell strangers I’m a romance author. People get weird when you admit you write about love, and god forbid, sex. Especially men, who see it as a reason to overstep boundaries with assumptions that just because I write about sex, I must have it a lot, and therefore must want to have it with them. Which, at least in my case, couldn’t be further from the truth.
At least that is usually my truth. This man is the first hot guy that has graced my doorstep in forever and I’m suddenly very aware of my unshaved legs and unmade bed. “The puppies are out here with my two munchkins.”
Dorian follows me outside, but then moves past me and the dogs, walking out into the middle of the yard. His eyes are on the grass before he picks a spot and sits down, a mile wide smile taking over his face as all five dogs swarm him, crawling into his lap and jumping up to lick his face. Dorian chuckles while puppies fumble all over themselves, clamoring for his attention.
“Datsun, Nissan, come here.” I call to my two dogs, who come over and jump on the loveseat and into my lap.
