Page 5 of Yorkie to My Heart (Friends of Gaynor Beach Animal Rescue #6)

Jeremy

Persistent scratching pulled me from the brilliant email I was composing.

A way to tell a journalist to fuck off without actually using those words.

And journalist was a generous term. Tommy Tucker was a guttersnipe who dragged everyone down to his level while claiming he was just telling the truth to the masses .

Whatever the fuck that meant.

He’d been poking around my client’s personal life in intrusive ways that bordered on harassment. If I thought his boss might rein him in, I would’ve tried that. But Karen Mixer was as bad as her top reporter.

And still the scraping noise continued.

Squirrels? Rats? Oh God, I hope not.

I saved the email. I wouldn’t send it now anyway, given how angry I was. I’d learned, unless the situation called for immediate action, waiting a few minutes—or hours—before hitting send could save a ton of headaches. Cooler heads prevailing and all that.

My journey through the house took me from the front parlor where my office was, through the kitchen, and to the back door. Which I opened.

And looked down.

Way down.

Wally stood there with a huge grin on his face, as if expecting to be let in.

Panic seized me. “Is Phillip okay?” I grabbed my spare key off the rack and headed outside. “Okay, boy, you need to go home.”

I would’ve sworn to God that the dog arched an eyebrow.

He didn’t have a leash, and I didn’t have anything that I could cobble something together without wasting precious time.

“Okay, buddy, hold still.” I angled myself to scoop him into my arms.

Even as I settled him, he licked my face.

“Uh, your breath is…gross.” I loved doggie kisses, but he definitely needed a breath mint.

Figuring going around the side of the house and using the gate to get to the front yard was about as quick as booting through the house, I headed that way.

“Phillip?” I didn’t want to yell, but I was concerned.

I didn’t know the guy, but he hadn’t seemed like the type to let his dog just wander about.

“Huh?”

The quiet word caught my attention. “It’s Jeremy. I have Wally. Uh…where are you?” I stood on the little grass strip between our houses.

“Backyard.” He sounded…sleepy?

“Phillip, I have Wally. So don’t worry, okay?”

“Wally? Oh my God, where is he?” Pure panic.

I stepped to his gate, wiggled the loose latch, made a mental note to fix it, and pushed into the backyard.

He met me and held out his arms for Wally when he spotted his pooch.

For just an instant, I hesitated. Then gingerly, I eased Wally into his arms.

Wally promptly licked him continuously.

Some of Phillip’s high color started to recede. “I don’t…” He swallowed. “How did he wind up with you?”

I shrugged. “He showed up at my back door. I was worried about you.” I gave him a once-over. “You’re okay?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his nose against Wally’s ruff.

The dog was still trying to give many, many kisses.

“Well, I should?—”

“Stay?” He snapped the word. “Sorry.” He winced. “I’m sure you have other things to?—”

“I don’t.” Certainly the email could wait a few hours. “Why don’t we try to figure out how Wally got from your house to mine?”

“Sure. And can I offer you a drink? I made a pitcher of sugar-free lemonade.”

I wasn’t a huge lemonade fan…but I had the impression Phillip didn’t have many visitors. Not that I’d been watching. Just…I’d only spotted Anthony so far. Well, that I’d noticed. Out my front window where I’d placed my desk.

But not to spy on my cute new neighbor.

Because that would be creepy.

No, I just liked looking out at the neighborhood. At all the houses with families. The trees. All the other stuff that could be found in a little subdivision. “Lemonade is perfect. Do you want me to take Wally?”

Phillip gestured with his chin. “Maybe close the gate?”

“Absolutely.” I showed him how the mechanism jiggled. “I can tighten that up for you. Or you could ask James?—”

“I don’t want to bother James.”

I was pretty sure James wouldn’t see it as a bother.

Except he and Colin were deep in the process of getting approved to be foster parents or even to adopt.

The love they had to offer any child lucky enough to have them as parents—either foster or adopted—was boundless.

I wished them well. “Then let me fix it. My dad taught me about every tool imaginable—because most professionals never do anything right. ” I tried to use my dad’s slightly worn voice.

Phillip cocked his head.

I waved him off.

He slowly lowered Wally to the ground.

The dog waddled off toward the yard.

We followed.

“Why don’t I see if I can figure out how he got over to my place while you get our drinks?” I met Phillip’s gaze.

He scrubbed his face. “For just that second…”

I put a comforting hand on his left biceps. “I know. I really do. I can only imagine.”

Realizing the forwardness of my action, I started to pull my hand away.

He moved his right hand to cover it. Then he met my gaze again. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Anytime, okay? We’re neighbors.” I injected as much enthusiasm into the word as I could.

His grin was wry. “Yeah, neighbors.” He moved his hand away, and I dropped mine. He gave me one final look before he headed inside.

I eyed Wally who’d settled on a dog bed.

He licked his paw before settling his chin on it. He gave a little snuffle, then closed his eyes.

I was glad to see the bed and the recliner Phillip had clearly been lying on were in the shade. The brutal summer sun could burn someone easily. I hoped Phillip had applied sunscreen on his exposed skin, but that was none of my business.

Too much time around my sister’s kids.

My nibblets.

I worked my way along the fence, looking for anything that might indicate how the escape artist had succeeded in getting to my yard. He couldn’t have gotten through the closed gate despite the unreliable latch, so that left the fence.

Although I expected to see he’d dug a hole or something, I found nothing. I glanced back at Wally.

He’d stretched out on his side with his big belly stuck out. Must be hard to find a comfortable position .

Speaking of comfortable…

Phillip slipped out of the house and quickly shut the sliding-glass door. “Need to keep the cool air in.” He glanced toward the sun, hesitating for a moment. He now wore sunglasses.

Then he shook his head, as if shaking off a thought, and headed my way. He held out the glass.

I took it gratefully, already feeling a drop of sweat go down my T-shirt.

Unless I had a videoconference call, I dressed casually.

When I visited my clients, though, I was all about the tailored suit and expensive tie.

Quiet elegance. Subtle. Well, once in a while, flashy was required.

I could do that too. I didn’t consider myself a chameleon because, to me, that implied not being genuine.

Although chameleons weren’t likely conniving, and wow, had my mind ever gone on a tangent.

I sipped. “This is delicious.” Tart, for certain, but not as bad as I’d expected.

“Did you figure out how he got out?” Phillip gestured to my place. “Front door or back?”

“Back.”

“So he didn’t escape through the gate.” Phillip met my gaze.

His glasses were shaded, but not strong enough that I couldn’t see his eyes.

I smiled. “I guess he’s an escape artist.”

“Arthur warned me.” Phillip gazed over at the little creature we were talking about.

The tiny guy was snoozing—completely oblivious to our contemplations of him.

Phillip shook his head. “I don’t know. I wasn’t asleep that long.”

I walked along the fence again, gently pushing each board with my foot. None moved.

“That’s weird.” He sipped his lemonade and winced. “Sorry.”

“For what?”

“It’s bitter.”

“Tart.” I offered a smile. “Nothing wrong with that.”

He didn’t appear convinced.

“Is anyone here?” A disembodied voice came from the other side of the gate.

“Shit.” Phillip hustled over to the side table, put his glass down, and hustled to the side of the house.

His cute butt jiggled in his khaki shorts when he did. He also wore a bright-blue T-shirt that sort of suited him. He still appeared reticent around me, but then why wouldn’t he? I was a total stranger to him. Just someone returning his wayward dog.

“I’m so sorry.” Phillip rounded the corner. “I completely forgot.”

“No worries.” A young man followed Phillip into the backyard. He was a couple of inches shorter than Phillip—who was a couple of inches shorter than my own six-one.

The guy appeared to be in his late twenties or early thirties.

So, a couple of years older than Phillip.

The newcomer’s medium-blond hair was a shade lighter than Phillip’s. He spotted me and waved. “I’m Jordan. The dog trainer.”

I stepped over. “Jeremy. The neighbor.”

“Oh great.” His smile didn’t waver.

“I should get?—”

“Can you stay?” Phillip fidgeted, his hands clasping and unclasping.

What’s going on? Is he not comfortable with the guy? With strangers? Yet he’s comfortable with me… Except we’d met on neutral ground. And I’d just rescued his dog from being landed on…by me. Was I more familiar? Safer? “Of course I can stay. I’d love to observe, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, that would be great.” Phillip glanced over at Jordan. “Is that alright?”

“Naturally. The more people who know how to handle Wally, the better off we all are.”

I wasn’t certain why I needed to know how to handle Wally, but Jordan’s logic was sound. Plus, I wanted to see if Wally was going to give us any clue as to how he snuck over to my place.

Jordan crouched by Wally’s bed.

Huh. Dog hadn’t stirred when the man had come into the backyard. I’d assumed all dogs would, like, bark or something. Or at least be curious.

“Wally?” Jordan’s tone was soft.

The dog stretched but didn’t open his eyes.

Jordan gazed up at Phillip.

Phillip shrugged. “I’ve never had a dog. I assumed they all slept like the dead and never roused. I have to wake him up to go for a walk. Now, if you say the word treat ?—”

Wally’s eyes snapped open, and he struggled to roll onto his belly so he could stand.

Jordan smiled. “Okay, so we know he’s okay. Maybe playing possum?” He held out his hand for Wally to sniff.

The dog did just that. Licked it. Then turned his attention to Phillip.

“He’s expecting, a…” Phillip winced. “But he doesn’t need them.”

“Well, he’s going to get them.” Jordan slowly rose. “Does he have any food allergies or sensitivities?”

“I don’t think so? Not that anyone told me.”

“Good. So you have two choices. You can cut his food to compensate for the, uh, things you’re going to give during training.

Or you can take part of his kibble and use that.

Training requires something to be given as a reward.

At least for now. We need to give him all the positive reinforcement we can while not increasing his caloric intake. ”

“He’s fat.” Phillip scratched his stubbled jaw.

“We can work on that. Your vet can give you a nutrition plan.”

“I’m fat.”

My heart ached.

“I’m not an expert on humans.” Jordan offered a smile. “But Wally needs plenty of exercise.”

“And I need to take care of him.” Phillip jutted his chin. “So I have to do better.”

I was working off the assumption that Jordan knew Wally was newly in Phillip’s care. That Phillip’s neglect wasn’t the reason the dog was overweight.

When Wally stood, he looked a little less…rotund. When he flopped on his side and his belly settled, though, I couldn’t miss the bulk.

“Do you have some kibble?” Jordan eased his gaze to Phillip while remaining turned toward Wally.

“Yeah, I do. Let me go get it.” Phillip headed back to the house.

Wally made to follow.

“Wally, sit,” Jordan said firmly.

The dog stopped and cocked his head.

Jordan chuckled. “Either we need to go back to basics, or he’s not sure I have the authority to tell him what to do.” He glanced over at me. “I brought some high-quality you-know-whats, but we may as well wait for Phillip.”

I wasn’t certain what high quality meant.

Phillip reappeared with a handful of kibble.

Jordan held out his hand and Phillip dropped the kibble into it.

One piece fell.

Wally lunged.

“Leave it.” Jordan snapped the order.

Wally slowed. He gazed back and forth between the two men, probably calculating his chances.

Jordan pocketed the extra kibble, then slowly crouched, never breaking eye contact with the dog. “Good dog.”

Said dog rocked back into a sitting position. Jordan passed him a bite of kibble from his pocket in reward.

“Why is he good? I mean, I guess it’s because he didn’t pick up the fallen kibble, right?” Phillip brushed his hair from his sweaty forehead.

Will Jordan notice he’s overheated? They should be in the shade. Or better, inside.

“Yes. Why don’t we head inside in a minute?” Jordan set down another piece of food beside the first.

Wally lunged.

“Leave it.” Jordan put his hand over the kibble. “Sit.”

Wally plopped back onto his butt.

“Good boy.” Jordan held out a reward from his pocket.

The dog gently snagged the bite of food from his fingers.

The trainer picked up the two bits off the grass and rose.

“This is really good, Phillip. I have to be honest, I wasn’t certain what to expect.

But he’s got an understanding of some commands.

We can go inside where he won’t be distracted.

I can take him through his paces, and we’ll create a training plan from there.

” Jordan offered a beaming smile. “I think you two will be in sync in no time.”

“You’ll come with us?” Phillip gave me what I could only describe as a pleading look.

“Of course.” Again, no idea why he wanted me, but it made me feel like I’d done something right. I’d take that trust and run with it. So three adults and one clearly eager dog headed inside.