“You think he already knows he belongs to you and where he lives?”
Jameson tugged the dog’s leash to bring Tank to a full stop. When pup dropped his backside to the sidewalk, Jameson took a knee and faced Little A at his level. Man to man. “I think Tank might have been born small, but he’s smarter than the average dog. I can tell you’ve spent a lot of time training him. Would you mind spending his first night away from home with me and Maddie? You know, so he knows you’ll always come back, and that you’ll always love him no matter where he is?”
“Kin I?”
“Absolutely. You two guys can bunk in the living room tonight. Then tomorrow, you can show me what else Tank knows. We’ll go to the park and really put him through his paces, deal?”
“Deal!” Little A exclaimed. “But I gotta ask Mommy and Daddy first.”
“Of course,” Jameson replied as he set A’s feet to the sidewalk and reached for the massive handle on his apartment’s double doors. With one click of the smart key fob in his jeans pocket, he ushered Little A inside, while Tank followed.
“I really like you, Uncle Jameson,” Little A said, his hand so small and warm inside Jameson’s. “Maybe you can come see the rest of my pups someday.”
“Good idea.” Jameson opened the door to his apartment with a cheery, “Honey, we’re home!”
Maddie was instantly at his side. “Just in time. Hot chocolate and breakfast burritos are ready. Donuts for dessert,” she announced as she pressed a kiss to his cheek.
He leaned into that kiss, then handed the leash to her. “We have a very smart dog. Next time, you have to come with us.”
“Mom! Dad!” Little A called. “Kin I stay here tonight with Tank? Uncle Jameson says it’s okay, and I’ll be real good. Pleeeease?”
Jameson turned toward the kitchen table where he sensed movement and body heat.
“’S okay with me. Mom, that okay with you?” Harley answered from that location.
“Are you sure?” Judy’s quiet voice came from the sofa.
Jameson turned to face Little A’s mother. “Positive. I have a lot to learn about dogs and little boys. It’ll be fun.”
“I’m staying, too!” Georgie announced loudly from somewhere near Judy.
“No, son, you’re going home with us,” Harley told him.
“But Daddy—”
“That’s the rule,” Judy replied evenly. “Little A did all the work with his dogs, so he gets the reward.”
“Besides,” Harley drawled. “Not sure Uncle Jameson and Aunt Maddie are ready for two monsters at the same time. Let’s break them in slow.”
“Aww…”
“Georgie, enough. Until you accept responsibility and do your chores without being told to, no sleepovers.”
“Never?”
“You heard me.”
“But I was just playing.”
Jameson pulled Maddie into his side as the Mortimer power struggle continued. “That’ll be us someday,” he murmured into her cheek. “A house full of kids and tests of wills. Late night feedings and diapers, doctor appointments and worries, kindergarten and dogs. Maybe a cat or two. A treehouse for sure. You still game?”
She pressed herself under his arm, her body warm and enticing as hell. “I can’t wait.”
“I love you,” he told his better half.
“I know,” she whispered back. “We’ve got a fur baby. We’re parents.”
And there it was, his future in sold gold. With Maddie. With Tank and the little boy who loved him. Tears welled in the corners of Jameson Tenney’s eyes. His greatest challenge had begun five years ago with two other little boys and a miniature donkey. If not for that frightening, horrible day, he wouldn’t be where he was now, a dog leash in one hand, his soon-to-be wife in his other. Jameson bowed his nose to Maddie’s hair, wishing Derby and Shakespeare could somehow know that he’d honored them by living. Every. Single. Day.
Because it had worked. He had thrown himself back into the deep end of life. He had learned how to swim all over again. But most of all… Life was great!
The End
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Keep reading for a preview of another tasty tidbit.
Preview of Harley’s story
In the Company of Snipers, #4
Ambushed!
“Rick! Can you hear me?” US Army Corporal Harley Mortimer bellowed, his voice lost in the grinding noise of battle. “Kent? Snakes? Anyone?”
Rick didn’t answer. No one did. Only the roar of the fire came back to him. Acrid fumes poured off his overturned and now obliterated Humvee. Smelled like the whole damned Iraqi oilfield was burning again. He rolled for cover.
The chopper overhead sounded odd for a Blackhawk. Maybe a Cobra? Combat Rescue? Already? No way. He knew better. They’d be here eventually, but not this soon. Had to be one of Saddam’s. Even that conclusion felt hollow. USAF owned the sky. Everyone in the world knew that. Saddam’s air force was rubble.
Enemy bullets zinged too close, kicking up plugs of dirt and razor sharp bits of stone that perforated his face and arms. Blood filled his ear where his earpiece should have been. The link with his men must have blown clear when the Humvee exploded. Panic climbed up his throat. Blood gushed down the back of his neck. Damn, I’m cut off and injured too.
Could things get any worse? He slapped his palms to his chest pockets and thighs. Sure enough, they could. He didn’t even have an empty holster where a pistol might have been. No tactical vest, no headgear. No knife. Nothing. I’m screwed.
Time to leave. American soldiers alone had better keep
