Dog Days: Smalltown Secrets, #7

By Cat Johnson

Never in a million dog days of summer would I have guessed my breaking Mudville's pooper scooper law would lead me to the town's bad boy. But that's exactly what happened.

 

He was the guy who went directly from graduation to gunfire and didn't look back…until now.

 

Twenty years later, he's home. A little bit broken, but back for good. And with the help of man's—or rather woman's—best friend, I intend to make him mine.

 

Can a former geek win the star of the football team? I'm betting on it. Heck. Crazier things have happened here in Mudville.

 

Dog Days is a small town, opposites attract, romantic comedy featuring a grumpy wounded bad boy who doesn't want to be saved, and the sun-shiny savior determined to rescue both him and one very special dog.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cat Johnson
• Release date: Oct 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201540265

Cat Johnson

New York Times & USA Today bestselling contemporary romance author Cat Johnson. Sign up at catjohnson.net/news to get new release and sale alerts.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

STEPHANIE

Here’s the thing about small towns. Everyone knows everyone else. And, what’s really annoying, is that everyone knows everyone else’s business.

So it really shouldn’t have been a surprise to find the deputy sheriff standing in front of me at the animal shelter, barely fifteen minutes after I started my shift.

Why the deputy was here was no mystery. It could only be about one thing. This morning’s incident.

In spite of my certainty, I chose to play dumb. Good morning, Carson.

Stephanie. He tipped his dark blonde head to me with as much authority as he could given the fact that, with my being seven years his senior, I’d been his babysitter once upon a time.

I folded my arms and waited, pretty confident he wasn’t here to arrest me. Although in this town, you never knew. Mayor Pickett and the town council could have passed any sort of ordinance at one of their many, many town meetings . . . I really needed to start attending those.

So, the reason I’m here, Carson begin. Mr. Timmerman—

He didn’t have to go any further. It was just as I’d suspected. And completely ridiculous.

I held up one hand to interrupt him. Can I explain my side of the story, please?

Carson’s brows rose. All right.

I couldn’t believe that freaking old man had really called the sheriff’s department on me. For one little pile of dog poop!

Okay, maybe not so little. Zeus, as a Belgian Shepherd, left pretty large piles, but I always picked up each and every one. Until today.

I was walking Zeus. He, you know, did his business, and that’s when I discovered I was out of plastic bags. So I ran across the street to Red’s Resale shop and got one from her. Carson, seriously, I was literally gone for like two minutes. Maybe three, tops. But by the time I got back, the poop was gone. Tell me, what was I supposed to do?

Look, Steph, I believe you. But my hands are tied here. An official complaint was made.

I sighed. Fine. What do I need to do to make this right?

Pay a fine? Spend a day on the rack in the town square?

The scary part was, here in Mudville, New York, a village with barely over a thousand residents—that last scenario wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities.

No, we didn’t actually have a rack, but I was sure some of the crotchety old residents would swarm to the next meeting to vote to approve it if a proposal for one was on the agenda. I included Mr. Timmerman in that grouping.

Carson drew in a breath, his chest expanding beneath the short-sleeved khaki shirt of his deputy’s uniform. Mr. Timmerman says he’ll let it drop if you apologize.

Apologize? I repeated. Of all my guesses, that wasn’t one of them.

He nodded. Yup.

Like a written apology? I asked, hopeful I’d get away without having to see the man.

Carson shook his head. "He said, and I quote, if she gets her uh, his gaze cut to mine and then away as he clearly edited what old man Timmerman had said, self over here today and apologizes, I’ll let it go. And then he reminded me he eats promptly at five and that he doesn’t like to be disturbed during his dinner."

I drew in a breath, trying not to be angry or annoyed by reminding myself that I was getting off easy with just an apology rather than a fine.

Make that another fine since I’d already had to pay fifty dollars for the sin of not getting a dog license for Zeus. Never mind that I was just fostering him at my house because he wasn’t doing well in the cage alone overnight at the shelter.

It didn’t seem to matter to the animal control officer that the dog was a veteran who’d served his country for years in the war zone, as well as only a temporary resident in my home.

All right. I’ll apologize. I glanced behind me. Terri was on today with me. I’ll go over on my lunch hour.

Wouldn’t want to risk disturbing Mr. Timmerman’s insanely early dinner by waiting until after work.

That would be great. Thank you, Carson said with sincerity.

I scoffed. Why are you thanking me? You’re the law, remember? All I’m doing is complying with an official order.

He treated me to a small, almost sad-looking smile. "Yes, but