“Does he have an ID collar and chip?” The man takes a few steps closer, ready to assist, a slight smile showing off crooked teeth, while his dog snarls. His eyes flick to Ollie behind me, spitting plane noisesand running in circles. “I’m Brandon.” His hand pops out from under the dog. “I live—”
“Go home, Brandon!”
My eyes jet to Slade marching across the street.
Brandon twists at the growled command and takes two steps backward. “I was just offering to help.”
“She doesn’t need your help, so go home.” Slade barges right past him, and his tall, broad body stops beside me on the sidewalk. He’s a human barricade not to be crossed.
I stare up at him, and the thick hair curling out from under his hat, those fierce green eyes glaring at Brandon.
“Good morning, Rory.” I just can’t help myself.
His gaze flicks to me.
Brandon scoffs. “You know, you’re a—”
“Careful,” Slade warns, his eyes moving to Ollie, who’s still as a statue.
“Guys, this is real fun, but I need to find my dog.”
I leave them to their testosterone feud, holding out my hand for Ollie to take. I adjust my arm under Frankie to lift her a little higher.
“What about the b-b-bus?” Ollie asks.
“We’ve got to find Grover first.”
I watch Brandon slug back across the street to his house, which I note is next to Slade’s.
“Do you know which way he went?” Slade asks, and I turn toward him.
I shake my head. “The gate must have come unlatched. He never runs, but he probably chased after a rabbit.”
Ollie stares up at Slade, his plane momentarily grounded.
“Does he have a name?”
“It’s Grover,” Ollie states.
Slade’s bearded chin dips to look at Ollie. “Grover?” he asks as if he needs clarification.
Ollie nods.
“Like the furry blue Muppet?”
Ollie smiles widely and nods.
“He’s a Goldendoodle. He’s smart but not familiar with this area.”
“You need a coat, so stay here,” he orders me. His gaze falls to Frankie, who’s leaning over my arm in an attempt to escape to the ground where she can practice walking. “I’ll get my truck and see—”
“Anybody looking for this guy?”
A female voice comes from behind us, and I turn to see a woman being pulled by my dog. She’s wearing leggings and a sweatshirt, and her short, dark hair is pulled back in a ponytail. She’s young and beautiful, with blue eyes that sparkle.
“Grover!” Ollie runs toward him, and Grover pulls against her petite frame even harder.
The woman releases his collar, and the two boys meet. Ollie throws his arms around the massive furball’s neck.
