You Give Love a Bad Name by Marilyn Brant

Author:Marilyn Brant [Marilyn Brant]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: radio DJ, dogs, humor, Mirabelle Harbor, series, contemporary romance, dating, Chicago, Marilyn Brant, teachers
Goodreads: 28366916
Publisher: Twelfth Night Publishing
Published: 2016-01-24T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

~Blake~

The vets released Winston to my care Monday afternoon. He was swaddled in a binding, scraped, bruised, and needy, but so damn happy to see me that he wagged his tail, even though it had to hurt.

Couldn’t stop holding him, stroking him, reassuring him that I was there. But something—or, rather, someone—was sharing my headspace. I couldn’t look at my dog without also seeing Vicky in my mind’s eye. The two were now linked because of this past weekend.

She was amazing.

An incredible, caring, intelligent woman.

And oh, my lord. That kiss. It was smokin’.

Problem was, because of the whole thing with Winston yesterday, I couldn’t just disconnect from her. Compartmentalize my attraction to her from the woman herself, the way I would with some other chick. I’d always thought she was pretty, but that wasn’t the only thing my brain was saying when she was in my arms. I wanted to sleep with her, sure, but I also wanted to talk with her and listen to her laugh and watch her react to things. Food she liked. TV shows she didn’t. It was bizarre.

We weren’t much alike, but I knew enough about opposites attracting not to be shocked that it could happen. I just never thought it could happen to me.

My kid brother Chance had been blindsided by this same thing earlier this year when he met Nia. Never much of an experimental eater (an understatement—the guy was a total health food freak who rarely strayed from his lean protein and fresh, unprocessed produce), Chance was now eating unpronounceable Greek dishes from Nia’s family restaurant, and he even had an occasional dessert.

As for Nia, who’d had a lifelong aversion to fitness clubs, she was now working out regularly at Chance’s gym and even running a 5K with my brother next month. Some kind of fall “Fun Run”—a form of weekend entertainment that I strained to wrap my mind around. The two of them would no doubt cross the finish line holding hands and celebrating with granola bars and bottle water. Nauseatingly sweet and wholesome but, I had to admit, there had been compromise on both sides. And I’d never seen my brother look so happy.

I pulled out my phone. I’d wrangled Vicky’s cell number away from her during the evening. She’d asked me to let her know how my dog was doing, so it was time I made good on my promise to text her today. Plus, I couldn’t get the woman out of my freakin’ mind.

I adjusted a sleepy Winston on my leg. “Hey, buddy, wanna help me text the hot French teacher?” I asked him.

Winston opened his big eyes wide and gazed up at my face. Poor bastard was still so exhausted, he could barely raise his head.

“I’m talking about Vicky,” I continued. “The lovely Mademoiselle.”

This clarification seemed to help. Winston recognized that name and wagged his tail encouragingly.

My mutt was a chick magnet. Thanks to Winston, I’d met plenty of cute ladies on our walks around town. But he’d never taken to any of them as readily as he had to Vicky.

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