Chapter Twelve

After cleaning the back seat of the cruiser of all remnants of dog, Jack spent the rest of the afternoon working on training Winston, adding to the repertoire of commands the dog obeyed. Now the dog had Stay and Heel down pat. Winston had made great progress. The dog was eager to please and had real heart.

After the session, Jack found a stick and they killed some time playing fetch. Each time Jack would throw the stick, the little dog would race after it, snatch it up and in that rolling gait of his, waddle to Jack. Then Winston would refuse to give it back. Jack, no longer fearful of him, pried it from those massive jaws, wiped the drool off on his jeans then tossed it again.

Jack sat on the grass as Winston came up to him, stick in mouth.

“I’m beat, buddy.” He lay back, hands behind his head, and stared up into the sky. Clouds floated past. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d just stretched out in the grass and relaxed. Or been on a picnic. Or spent time with someone he cared about.

Winston dropped the stick onto Jack’s chest and gave him a big, wet kiss.

“Cut that out!” Jack wiped his cheek with his T-shirt. “Edward might like that, but not me.” He chuckled as the dog lay down next to him and fell asleep.

Seemed like a good idea.

Jack closed his eyes. A slight breeze cooled him and the warmth of the sun beat down on him. The soft breathing of the dog, the buzz of some insect hovering nearby, all lulled him into sleep.

Woof.

Jack woke and peered around. Winston was at the front door waiting to go in.

The sky, once blue, was streaked with orange and crimson. He’d been asleep for at least a couple of hours. Christ, he’d needed that nap. Sitting up, he stretched his arms over his head.

It was great being pain free.

As he stood, he realized he’d never told Edward ‘thank you’.

Of course, he’d been damn distracted at the time, but on Monday, when Edward came to get Winston, he’d make a point of telling Edward thanks. It was the decent thing to do.

Once back inside, Jack sat on the couch and flipped the remote, scanning the channels. It was Saturday night—Texas Tech was playing. He settled in and twisted the top off his beer.

Winston curled up next to him. It seemed the little dog craved the human touch. He snuggled his butt up to Jack’s thigh, pushing against Jack’s leg with his back legs, as if trying to burrow underneath Jack. Then he fell asleep, head on his paws, tongue caught between his front teeth.

Unthinking, Jack moved his hand over to the dog as he watched the game. He scratched behind Winston’s ears and gave the bulldog long pets, stroking his short fur. Winston grunted and rolled over, belly up, as if begging to be scratched there now, and Jack laughed.

The bulldog was as demanding as his owner.

Jack took a swig of his beer. Nope. Not going there.

Instead, he threw himself back into the game. His stomach rumbled. At least, he thought it was him, but it could have been the dog.

Jack phoned in an order for a pepperoni pizza and went to pick it up, because he lived too far out of town for the delivery service. And since the Italian restaurant was fairly close to Olivia’s house, he drove past again, the pizza sitting on the passenger seat.

The lights were on and Edward’s car was still there. What had Jack expected? Edward didn’t know anyone but Olivia in town, and it wasn’t as if he’d go trolling the local bars to pick someone up.

And if he had been gone, what then? Drive around with his food getting cold until he found the red Miata? Then what?

Jack drove past, turned at the next corner and went home. He needed to get back in case the dog had an accident. So far, Winston had been great. Edward had house-trained him, at least.

At home, Winston met him at the door, barking and dancing around him in excitement. His little nub tail shook his entire rump and his long pink tongue hung out of the side of his mouth, dripping dog drool.

“Hey, buddy! Did you miss me?” Jack held the pizza up so the dog couldn’t knock it out of his hands. “Ready for some pizza?”

Woof.

Jack went to the kitchen, got down two plates and put a large slice on each one.

“Dog food or pepperoni pizza?”

Woof.

“I thought so.” He put the plate on the floor and Winston dug in.

Jack took his plate to the living room, got into the recliner and scanned the channels. “Hundreds of channels and nothing to watch,” he told Winston.

Winston finished his pizza and now demanded another slice. The plate clattered on the tile floor as Winston knocked it with his paw until he got Jack’s attention.

“More?” Jack got up and put another piece on the dog’s plate. “After this one, that’s it. Edward will kill me if I let you get fat.” Jack chuckled, then sobered.

If Jack wasn’t careful, Edward might be the end of Jack’s life and everything he’d built here in Spring Lake.