Tapping Her (Bad Boy Billionaires #1.5)(30)

“Yes, he really is,” Julie said, exasperated.

“Well, let’s get him out so we can take him home.” It was obvious Kline was ready to get home and relax. Being on a plane for over thirteen hours tended to do that to a person.

“That’s actually easier said than done, Mr. Brooks,” Julie replied, turning to look at both of us. “Your friends didn’t tell you what happened when they tried to pick him up?”

“No.” I shook my head. I had a feeling Cassie left out the important details for a reason—like making sure we suffered through this without warning.

“What exactly happened?” Kline asked, tone hinting at irritation.

Thatch would definitely be getting an earful later. Kline Brooks wasn’t the kind of guy you sent in blind. The fallout would probably be entertaining to watch, though.

“Walter gets very…intense whenever we try to remove him from Stan’s cage.”

“Intense?” My eyes nearly bugged out of my head.

Julie nodded. “Violently intense.”

This doesn’t sound good.

“With all due respect, Julie, my wife and I have been on a plane all day. I’d really like to just get Walter and head on home, so what exactly do we need to do to make that happen?”

“I’ll get suited up, and we can give it another shot,” she said, turning on her heels and striding through a door toward a back room.

“Suited up?” I asked, my concern growing by the minute.

Kline just sighed, shaking his head. “Fuck if I even know what that means, but I don’t f*cking like the sound of it.”

Yeah, my husband was pretty much done with this entire scenario, and I had a feeling we hadn’t even really seen anything yet. When he started throwing around f-bombs, I knew his ironclad patience was on its last legs.

Julie came out of the back room with a lot more clothing on than she started with. She looked like she had wrapped herself up in a mattress and thrown on some type of heavy-duty, protective clothing over top. Her hands were covered in giant gloves, and a hard hat adorned her head.

“You have got to be shitting me,” Kline muttered to himself.

“Uh…Julie? You need that much…gear? Just to get our cat out of the cage?”

“Yes.” She nodded, face determined. “You’ll see.”

You’ll see? Talk about ominous. This just got worse and worse.

She stood in front of the cage and took a deep breath, mumbling something to herself. She looked like she was preparing to exchange gunfire with terrorists. Her hands shook as they unlatched the door and reached inside to nudge Stan off to the side.

I was starting to think this whole thing was a bit dramatic, but then, as she wrapped her gloves around Walter’s body, I realized it wasn’t dramatic at all. Not one bit. Hell, she probably should have worn more gear.

Walter screeched and clawed, banshee cries louder than I’d ever heard echoed through the room as he valiantly fought her efforts.

“It’s okay, Walter,” she cooed, but he wasn’t having one bit of it. His claws dug into the padding on her arms, making any question of its necessity vanish.

My hand covered my mouth in shock, and Kline just muttered, “Oh, for f*ck’s sake.”

“Come on, Walter, your mom and dad are here to pick you up,” Julie soothed, trying her damnedest to comfort a cat who wanted no f*cking comfort.

More screeching and clawing.

Was he holding on to the cage?

Stan woke up at that moment and started barking—loud, deep barks that filled the room and started to wake up the other dogs.

Within minutes, every animal was losing their shit.

Walter’s paws lost their grip on the cage, but somehow, he managed to latch himself onto Stan, holding on to him for dear life. Stan’s eyes found his, and they weren’t the angry eyes of a clawed dog, but those of a companion offering encouragement.

Oh. My. God. My buddy was in love!

That’s why he didn’t want to leave Stan. Tears filled my eyes as I watched Julie yank Walter out of the cage and slam the door shut. Stan stood on his legs, howling in distress. He’d found The One while Kline and I were on our honeymoon.

“We can’t tear them apart, Kline!” I cried. “They’re in love!”

Kline looked away from the sight of Julie wrestling Walter into a traveling crate, and his eyes met mine. His brow was scrunched, and he was staring at me like I had truly lost it.

“Kline, I’m being serious. They love each other. We can’t tear them apart.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face, muttering, “I’m going to f*cking kill Thatch.”

Julie managed to get Walter inside the traveling crate and lock the door, and all I could do was watch as my cat and his new boyfriend cried for each other. Stan howled. Walter screeched. It was the saddest f*cking thing I’d ever seen.

“Can we take Stan home?” I asked Julie.

“No,” my husband interjected. “Baby, I love you, I really do, but we are not taking that dog home with us.”

“But Kline,” I started to plead, but he wasn’t having it.

He shook his head. “He’s a Great Dane, Georgia. And he’s not even full grown yet. He probably has another fifty pounds to go. There is no way in hell we can bring him back to the apartment.”