Page 54 of The Senator's Secret

“Let me grab my shoes and my wallet, and we can head out,” he says before he presses a quick kiss to my mouth then he leaves the room. My life is so weird.

• • •

“NO.” I FOLD MYarms across my chest and try and fail to look as stern as possible.

“Please?” Jake whines—yes, he whines. “I love him. He can go for runs with me in the morning, because we all know you are not a morning person.”

“I know,” I agree because I’m not a morning person. And who freaking jogs anyways? Crazy people and former Navy SEALs, that’s who. “That’s why I stick to cats. They like naps.”

“Sarge might like naps too.” Sarge does not look like he takes naps. Sarge looks like he rips the faces off of terrorists for fun and that’s putting it mildly.

There was a lot of commotion in the animal shelter when Jake and I walked in. Not just because he’s the sexy man about town he is, but because there was a retired police dog who, if they couldn’t get him to perk up, they were going to have to euthanize. Apparently, Sarge’s officer, the only one he ever had in his six-year-long career, was killed in the line of duty. They tried to reassign him, but he was too bonded with his partner and had fallen into a deep doggie depression.

Sarge was eventually turned over to this shelter to see if someone between them and Purple Paws could rehabilitate him, but it was no use. He wanted to follow his human across the rainbow bridge. That is, until Jake walked in.

We then learned Sarge’s partner had the same tone of voice and cadence as Jake. He also had a similar build and carried himself in the same manner, as he was a soldier with the 101st before he was an NYPD officer. A truer hero there never was.

The minute Sarge heard Jake and I playfully bickering about the cats that he swears he doesn’t even like which is a complete and total lie, he perked up. The minute he saw Jake walk past his kennel, he claimed him as his human. And who was I to stand in the way of a true bromance? So somehow, I’m going to have to explain to eight very spoiled felines that they now share their domain with a ninety-pound German Shepherd. A German Shepherd who used to love running six miles a day with his partner.

I sure hope Gus likes dogs.

“Careful, Jake,” I wink at him. “Your halo is showing.”

“Just don’t tell the others,” he laughs. “But I’ll show you anything you’d like.”

I roll my eyes at him but smile anyway. “Oh fine. Welcome to the family, Sarge.”

“Hooyah!” Jake shouts as Sarge lets out a bark.

They thankfully loan us a leash and a collar, although Sarge is impeccably trained. We load him up in the SUV to the surprised looks of Gus and Joe.

“If you could please take us to a pet store, that would be great,” Jake says politely.

Joe drives us to the nearest pet superstore, and I follow behind the boys while they look at everything. The manager is more than happy to help Jake find everything he could ever need for Sarge. We have bowls and food, leashes and collars, but the best part is watching Sarge check out all the toys. As a working dog, his options were limited, but as a retiree, his life is wide open, and his new human is going to make his remaining years beautiful; I can just tell.

When Sarge finally chooses a pink stuffed octopus that squeaks and a tennis ball, we head back to the car after paying for all of the accoutrements Jake needs for his new furry bestie. I might have even excused myself to cry in the bathroom, because I’m apparently a crier now.

We head to Open Arms, where I get to walk Jake and Sarge around and show them all the facility will do when it’s finally open.

“This is fucking amazing,” he says after we walk through one last time, and Jake meets all the on-site personnel and thanks them all one by one.

My phone rings as we load Sarge up into the SUV and head home. I pull it out of my bag and see it’s Jules.

“Hey, girl,” I answer. “Can we have an impromptu night in instead of out?”

“Yeah, but why?” she asks.

“Because Jake just adopted a retired police dog, and I don’t want to just dump him in the house with all the cats and bail. Pizza and wine in? I know where Jake hides the good stuff.” My offer makes him laugh, and I know Jules hears it too when she answers.

“And where will the good senator be?”

“With us at home,” I explain before rolling my lip into my mouth and biting down.

“A casual night at home with the senator everyone wants to interview?” she asks, and I can hear the wheels spinning. “Now that’s an offer I can’t pass up.”

“Take off your press hat,” I demand. “This is strictly a friends dinner. Jake is off limits.”

“Is he now?” she prompts.