Nearlyweds Read Online Free PDF Page B

back and forth.
    “I don’t know. ‘Bad Dog’?” Grimacing, she wiped at the dirt the makeshift leash had left on her fingers. “Do you happen to have a tissue I could use?”
    I managed not to roll my eyes at her princess routine. She was going to be the kind of pet owner who bathed her dog in noxious floral-scented toxins every weekend and screamed bloody murder if he dared place a single paw on the couch. Forget Great Danes—this chick should’ve gotten a stuffed animal.
    “Thanks,” she said as I handed over a paper towel. “I’ve really screwed up this time. I guess it goes to show, you should never go to the pound when you have a fight with your husband.”
    “I guess,” I said neutrally. “’Cause when the fight ends, you’ll still have the dog.”
    She nodded. “How long do Great Danes live, anyway?”
    “Not that long, by dog standards. Eight, maybe ten years.”
    “Ten years? Seriously?”
    “Sure, if you keep them healthy. But Great Danes and Newfoundlands are tricky breeds. You really have to stay on top of all the medical and nutrition stuff. Big dogs have a lot of joint problems. They’re prone to hip dysplasia and arthritis, not to mention bone cancer, bloat…”
    “Bloat?” She wrinkled her nose. “That sounds gruesome.”
    My reply was drowned out by a sharp ripping sound as the dog tore open the bag. Dry kibble pinged across the floor like BBs.
    “Oh God. Sorry.” She knelt down and started scooping handfuls of food back into the bag while the dog commenced gorging himself. “I don’t…this dog…I didn’t really think this through.”
    “Yeah, you mentioned that.” I grabbed a red nylon Martingale collar from the display rack, along with a thick leather leash, and headed toward the dog.
    Stella rocked back on her heels and looked up at me as I looped the collar around the dog’s neck. “This was a huge mistake.”
    “What? Getting a Great Dane?”
    “Everything. Just…everything. Hey, do you want him?”she offered hopefully as I scratched the dog behind the ears. He closed his eyes, leaned back into my hand, and luxuriated in the affection.
    “Nope. My apartment doesn’t allow dogs. Besides, I have two cats, and they wouldn’t exactly be thrilled to have a canine roommate.”
    “Then I guess he’ll have to go back in the shelter.” She resumed scooping up dog food.
    “Back to the shelter?” My eyebrows shot up to my hairline.
    “Yeah. I can’t possibly…I don’t know the first thing about taking care of dogs. Especially giant ones.”
    I glared at her. “Tell me you’re kidding.”
    She wouldn’t meet my gaze. “Well. It wouldn’t be fair to the dog to—”
    I jerked my hand up and launched into one of what Nick referred to as my “spirally eyed animal-rights rants.” “Listen. Stella—”
    “How did you know my name?”
    “Everyone knows who you are. You’re the nanny who married Dr. Porter.”
    She looked stricken. “Oh no. You’re friends with Taylor and Marissa, aren’t you?”
    “Not really, but this is a small town. Word gets around. So listen, Stella. Perhaps this little detail has escaped your notice, but dogs? They’re living creatures. They’re not like shoes or handbags. You can’t just get buyer’s remorse and return them. And I have news for you: no one else is going to adopt this dog.”
    “But…” She blinked back what appeared to be tears. Give me a break. “But I did. Maybe somebody else will see him and—”
    “You take him back to the pound, he dies,” I said bluntly. “And it’ll be your fault. Simple as that. He’s a big, black, male dog. Three strikes against him. This time of year, people are looking for fuzzy little puppies to stick under the Christmas tree. They want ten-pound yorkie mixes that won’t shed too much or eat them out of house and home. Not a shaggy, untrained oaf who’ll knock over their toddlers.”
    Tears spilled down onto her cheeks. She was one of those freaks of nature who managed