All the Wild Ways_A Friends to Lovers Romance by Caroline Tate

Author:Caroline Tate [Tate, Caroline]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-03-01T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

My hands are covered in foamy dog shampoo when my phone rings from the shelf behind me. The sparky shih tzu I’m bathing, adorably named Beatle, has been a nightmare and a half this afternoon and starts growling at the third ring of my phone. Fighting me, she yaps at my cell until it finally stops ringing. “Calm down, girl,” I say, holding her firm.

I’ve been coming to this condo by my old high school twice a month every summer to groom Beatle. She looks quite like a white and brown spotted teddy bear. But soaked in water, she reminds me more of a squirming rodent. Before encountering her, never once had I considered disliking a dog. But the constant snapping of her jaw at me makes me feel a lot less guilty for the few times I’ve thought it.

I’m nearly finished rinsing her, but the rascal hops up on her hind legs and attempts to nip at my fingers. Trying to leap out of the wash pan, she splashes warm, soapy water all down the front of me. Big dogs I can handle any day. It’s the small ones that always seem to give me the most trouble.

Setting off her voracious little howl, my phone starts ringing again. The sound of her whining adds to my aggravation, so in a hurry, I rinse the last of the shampoo off of the dog. Snatching my phone from behind me with wet hands, I answer the call without even looking at the screen.

“Hello?”

Taking the only moment of uncontrolled action I’d allowed her during her bath, Beatle shakes her entire body dousing me in tea tree-scented water.

“It’s me,” the voice says, irritated and rushed. I immediately recognize it to be Franklin.

“Hi, can’t really talk,” I say, pushing down on Beatle’s behind to get her to sit. “I’m at work.”

He should know this. It’s a rare day that I hear from him anyway, but for him to call me when we should both be on the clock is pretty unheard of these days.

Ignoring my rush to hang up, he clears his throat “Did you hear about dad?”

“No,” I say, grabbing the medium comb from the cabinet above me and taking it to a few of Beatle’s knots. “What about him?”

His voice goes stoic for a second until he sighs.

In the wake of his silence, all I can imagine is a car crash or a stroke, some sort of accident toeing the line of horrific. The idea of having to drop Beatle and race to the emergency room settles down into my stomach. Rousing my brother from his silence, my voice grows two shades of panic now. “Franklin, what’s wrong?

“Seriously? Dad didn’t tell you?”

“Jesus, Frank. Tell me what?” Beatle is wriggling in my hands as I carry her over to the drying station.

“Dad decided to get rid of the brewery.”

I scoff. “He’s been trying to unload it for years, Frank. Of course he’s getting rid of it.”

“No, I mean he sold it. Someone made him an offer.

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