Hound Dog & Bean (21 page)

“Last night. She saw me walking along the sidewalk and asked me if I wanted a ride and—”

“She gave you one?” he asked suggestively.

Mara slapped at him playfully, but of course she missed. He was two feet away, and she was behind the counter. She motioned him to come nearer.

“Are you crazy?” he said.

“No. No, come here. I want to
tell
you more.”

He stood and walked closer. “She
did
give you a ride?” He gave her a naughty leer.

“Oh, for goodness sake. No. She did not give me a ‘ride.’ What kind of girl do you think I am?”

“I would guess a horny one. How long has it been since you’ve been laid?”

“Yeah…. Well. I’ll give you that. But no. We had dinner, watched
But I’m a Cheerleader
—”

“You watched that
again
?” How many times had she seen that movie? She’d made
him
watch it twice. At least it was funny….

“I
like
that movie. And
hel
-lo, it has
Clea
Duvall.” She got a dreamy look on her face.

“And then you went home?” He leaned closer.
Come on girl, give me the dirt
.

“And then she gave me a ride home. In her
car
. She didn’t even kiss me—”

“Sorry,” he said and gave her doe eyes.

She giggled. “I’m okay. Because we’re going out tonight and….” She pointed to the flowers.

“Wow,” he said. “They’re beautiful, Mara.” They were. He didn’t know what they all were, but it was every color he could think of, and there were roses and mums and carnations and daisies. He recognized all of those. Baby’s breath as well? “You think I should get Hil
ll….
” He stopped himself. “You think I should get H.D. some flowers?”

“I knew why you were late,” she said, beaming. “And something tells me
you
two didn’t wait for the second date.”

Now it was his turn to blush. “Ah, no.”

“But boss? No flowers. I don’t think he’s a flowers kind of guy. Not yet anyway. Okay?”

He nodded. Something about her advice. Her assurance. “Okay. But can I still sleep with him tonight?”

“Hell, boss. I hope sleeping is not all you do!”

“H
EY
, M
OM
.”
Bean was surprised she’d waited until lunch to call.

“How did your date with Archie go, dearest?”

“H.D., Mom.”

“H.D.? What kind of name is that?”

“It’s a nickname, Mom. The
H
stands for Hillary.”

“Hillary? What kind of name is that?” She paused and he knew—could see her face in his mind—she was mulling it over. “Unusual. But I like it.” Then shouting: “No, Father! Little Dean is not dating a woman. Hillary can be a man’s name
.
What country does he come from, dear?”

It took him a second to realize she was talking to him.

“Here, Mom. He’s from Kansas City.” Or at least he thought he was. Hell, he hadn’t asked, had he?

“Did you two have fun?”

“Yes.”
Boy oh boy did we have fun!
“We had a nice time.”

“Well, I insist you bring him over for dinner. How about Friday? No—Sunday. Say three o’clock—”

“Mom,” he said cutting her off. “I don’t think that’s going to be happening.”

“Why not, dear?”

“Mom. We just met. Don’t you think asking him to come meet the parents might be jumping the gun? I don’t want to scare him off.”

“You like this one don’t you?”

The question brought him up short. He did, didn’t he? He
did
like H.D. A
lot
. He knew that H.D. might have well still been a stranger. They hardly knew each other at all. But he felt good about him. Very good.

“Yes, Mom. I do.”

“I’m glad. I can hear it in your voice. You take your time. Get to know each other. And when you’re ready to show him off, let me know.”

“I love you, Mom,” he said, feeling a rush of emotion for his mother. Why shouldn’t he? Love was in the air.

“I love you too, darling….”

B
EAN
AND
Hound Dog’s date that evening did not go as planned. In fact, it wasn’t a date at all.

And it all started with a phone call.

“Good afternoon,” Bean said. “Thank you for calling The Shepherd’s Bean.”

“Coffee man? I got some bad news. I don’t think I can make it tonight. We have a little emergency. I’m heading out the door now.”

Emergency?
Bean wondered.
What kind of emergency?
“Is everything okay?”

“Well…. No. I mean, Elaine and I are rushing out to do a rescue. We have to go right away. We’re even closing shop. These dogs…. It’s not good. It’s part of a puppy mill, and some of the dogs are in bad shape. We’re afraid they’re dying. At least that’s what the wife says. Her husband is out drinking, and we’re going to get in and get out with every dog we can before he gets home.”

Bean could hear the desperation in H.D.’s voice. “You need my help?” he asked without even thinking about it.

There was a pause. “What? What did you say?”

“You want me to come along?” What if the husband shows back up? It would help to have another man there.

“Why would you do that?”

Bean could hear the crack in H.D.’s voice. And why? “Why not?” He took a deep breath. “Of course I will.” And then he voiced his thoughts about how it might help to have another man along.

“It—It might,” H.D. said. “And if you don’t mind, we could leave Elaine here. Then we wouldn’t have to close.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Bean. He didn’t like the thought of the woman going out there. It might be sexist, but it sounded like things could get rough. Besides, didn’t she and Mara have a date? “I’m ready when you are.”

“You mean it, don’t you?” asked H.D.

“Of course I do,” he said. He’d been just about to run out and make a deposit at the bank, but it could wait.

“I’ll pull the van in front in just a few minutes.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

W
HEN
H.D.
had gotten to Four-Footed Friends that morning, he’d been in the best mood he’d been in for as long as he could remember. It was crazy.

He’s just a man
, H.D. kept telling himself.

But what a man. He knew this wasn’t going anywhere, but why not let it play out? Even if it only lasted another day, it would be fun. Besides. He wanted to fuck Bean’s sweet ass again. And he wanted Bean to fuck him again as well. Just the thought made his cock stir.

What surprised him, though, was that Elaine was floating as well. It took him a while to find out why. She was close-mouthed, and he had to pester her and pester her until she finally admitted with a shout that she’d had dinner with Mara Poindexter.

“The girl from the coffee shop?” he asked, incredulous.

“Yes! The girl from the coffee shop.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” Elaine snapped.

“That’s kind of wild, huh? You and her and me and De
eee
… Bean?” No need to let her know he was getting a little personal.

And why was he using Bean’s real name anyway? How gushy-gushy was that?

He looked over at his friend—perhaps one of his only friends in years—and saw she wanted to ask him a question. He could see it in her eyes. The questions were swimming there.

“What?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Oh, it’s
some
thing,” he said, careful to control his tone. “Go on. You won’t be able to concentrate until you ask.”

She laughed. “You think so, huh? Is that the way it is?”

H.D. nodded gravely—then smiled.

“Okay….” She took a deep breath. “You spent the night with that man, didn’t you? That’s why you’re late this morning.”

Shit. He was afraid that was what this was about. And how did he answer?

“I-I…. Yes.”

“You don’t spend the night.” It was a quiet statement.

“I… made an exception. We were drinking….” Now leave it alone.

No such luck.

“Do you like this guy, H.D.?”

He looked over at her again. She was searching his face, and he made a concerted effort to close it. Keep her from seeing in.

H.D. felt something rub against his leg and looked down to see Bella, the gray-and-white sister of River, looking up at him. “Ah, baby.” He reached down and picked her up, careful of her claws. She was a scaredy cat—needy and neurotic—the total opposite of her sister, and constantly demanded attention. River would be fine if civilization ended and every human being on Earth vanished overnight. Bella, on the other hand, would go out of her mind.

H.D. didn’t mind. He wasn’t so crazy about “needy” when it came to his fellow man. Who knew what all they were needing? A cat, though? A dog? No ulterior motives. That fit H.D. just fine.

When Bella was comfortable against his chest, the claws vanished and she snuggled close and began to purr.

“You spoil that cat.”

“I spoil all animals,” he replied and kissed the top of Bella’s head.

“True,” she acknowledged, and then they went to work.

The morning started well. They adopted out a wonderfully sweet dog named Penny. It made H.D.’s day all the better. He’d been afraid it would be near impossible to find her a home. She was primarily what was called a Catahoula hound, brindled with cracked glass eyes—part brown and part ice blue. Simply beautiful—

Like Dean…

—and sweet and loving. She’d been a handful at first, though. They’d gotten a call from someone who found her, along with her mother, in the woods. Both animals were almost starved to death and the vet estimated that they had been living on what they could catch for at least three months. Imagine! How had they gotten there? Had some asshole just abandoned them? It had taken them both, he and Elaine, weeks to not only bring her to health, but to make her able to be around people without trying to run and hide. It made H.D. want to scream every time he thought about it. But all the hard work had paid off, and now she had a new home. The mother lived with Elaine now. That had been love at first sight—for both of them.

Not only that, but an appointment had been made for someone to meet Milo, a golden Labrador retriever mix. Milo’s foster mom was bringing him in for a meeting with the potential parent that afternoon. Milo was the Brad Pitt of puppies, rescued as a puppy from a breeding farm where the dogs weren’t being cared for properly, so he came to FFF at eight weeks. He had a bad bite on his face from another dog that had gotten infected because it hadn't been treated, but you'd never know it now. FFF’s vet was a miracle worker, and you could hardly see it. They expected it would vanish within another few months.

All in all, a good day.

That’s when the shit hit the fan.

A woman had called in crying uncontrollably. It had taken both Elaine and himself to calm her down, and through the sobs, they’d managed to find out her husband ran a small puppy mill. He had several dogs he kept in tiny kennels out in their garage.

“They barely have room to turn around,” she’d bawled into the phone. “He won’t walk them or play with them or anything. I sneak out and talk to them when I can. But… but….”

Then she was near hysterical again.

It turned out she was led to the garage by a bad smell. One of the dogs had died, and she had no idea when it had happened. “It—it had—to be—days a-ago. She was covered in….” The last was lost in tears.

She let them know that her husband had gone out and come back a while later with several cases of beer. He was meeting up with a friend, and they were going fishing. “He’ll be gone for hours. You gotta come get these here dogs. Please!”

And now Hound Dog and Bean were on their way.

H.D. still couldn’t believe Bean was with him. What had possessed him to offer his help? H.D. had wanted to ask Bean for help, but somehow had found his throat freezing up and the words unable to come from his mouth.

Bean read the directions as they made their way out into the country. One thing about Kansas City was that as large and industrial as it was, it didn’t take long to find oneself in the middle of nowhere. He was grateful Bean was with him. H.D. had a good sense of direction, but they didn’t have time to make a wrong turn or miss a tiny country road. Who knew when Mr. Puppy Mill might come home?

“You never know,” his wife had said. “He could stumble home at three in the morning or show back up in an hour because he forgot something.”

He was startled when Bean—

Dean. His name is Dean.

—
reached out and laid a hand on his knee. “It’ll be okay,” Bean said in a sure, strong voice.

Somehow H.D. believed him. He spared Bean a long look, near fell into those gorgeous, deep brown eyes, felt his heart speed up.

“Do you like this guy, H.D?” Elaine had asked.

I do. I do like him
….

Fuck me
.

“D
O
I
make you nervous, H.D.?”

H.D.’s heart skipped a beat and his breath caught. He let it out slowly. “Not… not nervous. It’s just…. Last night was….”

“Nice?” Bean asked, and H.D. could hear the hope in his voice.

H.D.’s mouth tilted up into a smile before he even knew it and begrudgingly he admitted that yes, last night had been nice.

Very nice
, he thought. But why? What was it that made last night so different? Bean so different?

He’s just a man!

And men hurt you.

H.D. tried to focus his attention on the road, but it wasn’t easy. None of it was, in fact. There was this man sitting beside him—a man he hardly knew but for some fucking reason was powerfully drawn to.

And
he was worried to death about the dogs they were on their way to—hopefully—rescue. H.D.’s stomach was in knots over it. He couldn’t help it. He always worried about animals, and most especially dogs. He’d loved dogs all his life. He’d had one named Gregory when he was a little kid, living in that apartment with his mom. It was a raggedy thing—he had no idea today what kind of dog it was. Only that it wasn’t big and it was mostly black with big, floppy, furry ears that his mom said he’d sucked on when he was tiny.