“That’s Lulu. Gerri told me she’d always wanted to adopt a shelter dog, so I went with her one day. Lulu’s a year old. Cute little thing, and Gerri just gushed about her, saying she was the perfect dog for her.”

Emma looked up at him. “And now?”

“She just told me she only got the dog to impress me. And that Lulu pees everywhere and barks a lot. And since I stopped seeing Gerri, she apparently has no use for the dog anymore.”

Chelsea’s expression changed from curiosity to anger.

“What? She used a dog to score points with a guy? What a bitch.” Chelsea gently ran her fingers over Lulu’s back, then took her from Emma. “Come here, sweetheart. Was that horrible woman mean to you?”

“She seemed a little immature, and maybe a bit … young for you, Bash?” Jane said, clearing her throat.

Bash shrugged. “We got along fine for a while, until I realized she had a habit of pouting when she didn’t get her way, and yelling at me whenever I had to cancel a date. So yeah. Maybe you’re right, Jane. She was too young for me. Clearly she has issues.”

Emma looked angry, too. “Clearly. So what are you going to do with Lulu?”

He looked over at the dog, who was happily curled up against Chelsea. “I have no idea.”

“You’re keeping her, right?” Chelsea asked, cuddling Lulu close. “I mean, you can’t just abandon her.”

Bash stared at Chelsea. “What am I going to do with her?”

“Raise her. Love her. Be patient with her. Everything you’re supposed to do, Bash.”

All eyes landed on him, and rather expectantly, too. Even Luke, who just shrugged in sympathy.

Chelsea handed Lulu back to him. “She’s yours now. Be good to her.”

Shit.

He glanced down at Lulu, who raised her head and looked up at him as if to say they’d both been hosed by Gerri, so they were going to have to deal with it together.

“Okay, Lou. I guess it’s you and me against the world now, girl.”

Chapter 3

Bash left Lou—because no way in hell was a man like him having a dog named Lulu—in the care of one of the waitresses, who he promised to pay extra tonight while he made a mad dash to the pet store for food, bowls, a collar, a leash, toys, treats, a crate, and a dog bed. An extremely long damn list provided to him very sweetly by Emma.

Lou wasn’t all that thrilled with the crate, but she finally settled in at his feet while he managed to get his job done.

At least Chelsea, Emma, and Jane took off to go to the movies or a girls’ night out or something, leaving him in peace about the dog once he promised them he intended to keep and care for her. Luke lingered for a while, but then he had to go home to check on his and Emma’s dogs.

Chelsea seemed relieved when he told her he was keeping Lou. Not that her opinion mattered. He just wasn’t the type of guy to abandon a dog. And okay, maybe Chelsea’s opinion mattered a little. All of their opinions mattered. Emma told him to bring Lou in to the vet clinic on Monday and she’d look her over.

So after the bar closed, he loaded Lou and all her new belongings into his truck and drove home.

He was bone-weary, and he still had the busiest night of the week at the bar tomorrow night.

He pulled up in the driveway and got out, then pulled Lou’s crate out, taking it into the house. He set it down on the floor in his living room.

“Be right back. Chill here for a few seconds, okay?”

Lou lay there staring up at him. He dashed outside and grabbed the bag of supplies and food, then came back in.

No barking. Nothing.

Yeah, Lou just hadn’t liked Gerri, no doubt because Gerri was high-strung and nervous all the time. Dogs could read that kind of tension, and they reacted to it.

He let Lou out of her cage, connected the leash to her collar and took her outside, where she did her business in a hurry. He walked her around a bit to let her stretch her legs some, then they came back in.

He disconnected the leash to give Lou an opportunity to wander around.

Instead, she sat on his foot, shaking.

Bash shook his head. “My guess is she didn’t exactly give you the run of her place, did she, pal?” he asked, then figured if Lou wasn’t going to go exploring on her own, he’d help her out. He turned the light on in the living room, then took off toward the kitchen, taking it slow.

As he suspected, Lou followed along, keeping her body right next to his feet as they moved past the living room into his kitchen, where he hit the light switch and opened the fridge, pouring himself a glass of water.

He’d brought the bag of supplies, so he got out Lou’s bowl, put water in it, and set it down against the wall in the kitchen. Lou went over and sniffed it, then lapped up a couple sips. He leaned against the counter and waited a bit, hoping Lou would explore on her own.

She didn’t, moving back over to his feet after she’d taken a drink.

“Okay, pal, let’s go see the rest of the house.”

He walked her through every room, including the bathroom, and ended up out in the backyard, where she peed—again.

“For a tiny dog, you have a great bladder. Let’s see if you can hold it all night, okay?”

He let her back inside and found his water. He sat on the sofa, kicked off his shoes, and laid down, and turned on the TV. He’d already had his fill of sports from the bar, so he decided on an old action movie and settled in.

It didn’t take more than five minutes to hear the whimper from the floor. He tried ignoring it, but apparently Lou was an expert whimperer.