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LENGTH: Short Story
SENSUALITY: Sensual

Cover art (c) 2004
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Emerald has fallen in love with Rudi, the puppy she found on her doorstep. Then she discovers a lost dog poster in the park. Rudi's true owner, Cody, turns out to be gorgeous. But he's also the widowed father of a seven-year-old boy who wants his dog back.

Rating: Contains mild sexual content.

PUPPY LOVE

By

Stephanie Bedwell-Grime

© copyright November 2004, Stephanie Bedwell-Grime
Cover Art by Amber Moon, © copyright November 2004
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

Fridays were supposed to be the best day of the week, Emerald thought grimly as she trudged up the steps to her apartment. But this Friday had been a disaster from start to finish. She'd worked late Thursday night and arrived home tired. She remembered to set the coffee maker for 6 a.m., but neglected to set her alarm. Sunlight streaming in her window woke her at 9:15; forty-five minutes after her boss' breakfast meeting began.
Having no choice but to splurge on a cab, she burst in on the meeting's finale, drawing disapproving glances from every member of the management team. The workday went downhill from there, as she struggled to make up for her tardiness.
Even nature seemed to have rallied against Emerald. When she stepped out of the office at 7 p.m., she found the sunny day had turned into a virtual downpour. And she hadn't brought an umbrella.
Her suit jacket stuck to her back in a heavy press of sodden wool by the time she dashed from the subway to the doorway of her apartment. It took a moment for her to understand the black letters on the sign pasted to the glass door.
NOTICE OF DEMOLITION
Emerald froze her hand still on the handle, rain sluicing in an icy river down her back. There had to be some mistake. Mr. Thompson, the previous landlord had recently sold the property. The new owner had promised to renovate. Apparently, his idea of renovation involved tearing the building down.
As if the dismal day couldn't get any worse. "Where am I going to find another rent controlled apartment?" Emerald wondered aloud.
A pitiful whine answered her. She glanced down into the overgrown bushes that bordered the front steps. Only the drumming of rain on the awning above answered her. Emerald opened the front door, but just as she was about to step into the warmth inside, she heard that plaintive cry again. And it was definitely coming from the bushes.
Giving up on the welcoming warm air coming from the lobby, she circled back down the stairs to investigate. As she bent to look beneath the foliage, an icy drop of rain found its way between her collar and her neck to run in a frigid line down her spine.
"What am I doing?" she asked her better sense. "With my luck it will be a skunk."
Another whine drew her closer. Surely a skunk couldn't sound so helpless and lonely. Emerald lifted a branch, sending a spray of rain into her face. She blinked rain off her eyelashes and gazed into the darkness. A pair of brown eyes looked back at her. She reached her hand inside.
And was rewarded with a threatening growl.
Emerald jerked her hand back, sending another spray of rain cascading down on top of her. "You could thank me for the rescue," she said admonishingly.
An apologetic whine answered her.
Heedless of the wet grass, she crawled closer and lifted the branch more slowly. Those huge brown eyes were still there. "Hey," she said as unthreateningly as she could. "Come here, I won't hurt you."
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she made out the scruffy form of a small dog. Probably the dirtiest little dog she'd ever seen. His wiry fur was slicked down with rain. Somehow he'd managed to coat himself with half the dirt from the flowerbed. An unfortunate mixture of black and brown fur made him look as though he'd been caught in a blender. He (it had to a he, Emerald decided, a female dog could never get that dirty), looked as wet and unhappy as she felt.
"Come here, you." No longer afraid of being devoured by a stray wolf, Emerald lifted him under the shoulders. He uttered another growl in protest at being dragged back into the rain. A growl that made him sound much larger than he really was. But once she lifted him, the little dog surrendered to her touch.
Once she'd pulled him into the gray light of the threatening sky, Emerald realized the dog was much smaller than she'd imagined him to be. Not much larger than a house cat and less well fed. The remains of a blue, plastic collar still hung around his neck, but the identifying tag was missing. With his fur slicked back against his body, she could feel his ribs. By the collar she could tell that someone had loved and cared for him. But it had obviously been several days since he'd had a good meal.
"Let's go inside," she told him. He looked back at her expectantly with those brown eyes. "I don't have any dog food, but it's warm in there." Emerald glanced at the notice of demolition getting soggier by the moment, yet still taped to the door. "At least as long as I have a roof over my head."
His ears twitched at that, and he perked up as she unlocked the glass door that led from the lobby to the main hallway. Her apartment was on the first floor. She had been hesitant to take it at first, worrying about break-ins. But the living room door led to a patio at the back of the building. She spent many summer nights sitting there enjoying the warm air. Roses bloomed on either side of her doorway, framing the patio with a riot of color and scent. Her rose garden would be a pile of rubble before the summer came.
Emerald set the little dog down on the mat in her front hall and told him to SIT. That much he understood and sat obediently, while she took off her sodden suit jacket and hung it on the door knob where it would drip on the mat instead of the hardwood floor. Not that it mattered, she thought. The hardwood would be gone soon, like everything else.
She dumped water out of her shoes and wandered down the hall in her stocking feet to search for her terry cloth robe. The little dog waited expectantly for her when she returned. She had to find a name for him, Emerald thought. She couldn't just call him little dog.
Oscar. The name leapt into her mind. He looked like an Oscar with his fur slicked back and all covered in mud.
"First," she told him. "You need a bath."
That word, he understood. Crouching low to the floor, he attempted to evade her, but she snatched him up and strode down the hall toward the bathroom.