Don’t Mind If “I Do” by Everly Ashton

Thirty-Nine

Mazzy

“So what are you up to today?” Nick asks while we share coffee a couple of mornings later.

“I’m going to walk a dog.” I say it with pride in my voice as though this is a real accomplishment.

“I wasn’t aware you had a dog.”

I laugh. “I don’t. I’m walking someone else’s.”

He stops blowing on his coffee. “Okay, explain.”

“I was thinking about all the things I like, and since animals is one of them, I thought maybe I might enjoy being a dog walker.” I shrug. “It sounds stupid, I know, but I’m thinking if I like it, maybe I can fill a need somehow for people who need a hand. Like seniors or the disabled. People on a fixed income.”

Nick sips his coffee and nods. “That doesn’t sound like a bad idea actually.”

“Thank you.” I give him a cheesy grin. I’ve been giving him a lot of those over the past week. Regular orgasms will do that to a girl.

“So where is this dog walking experience taking place and how did you find someone’s dog to walk?”

“I put an ad up on Rover. It’s actually only about a five-minute walk from here. His name is Randy, and he’s a Golden Retriever.”

“Those are usually good dogs. When do you have to leave?”

I flip my phone over on the counter. “Now actually. I’ll be back. Wish me luck.”

Nick stands from where he’s leaning on the counter. “Listen, I was hoping to take you out this weekend, but I wanted to check to see if you had plans.”

I cock my head and step toward him. “Like on a date?”

“Exactly like that.” He kisses my forehead.

“I’d love it.” There goes the cheesy grin again. I have no control of it.

“Perfect. I’ll figure something out and get everything arranged.”

“You’re the best.” I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down for a kiss. He slips me his tongue, but before things can get too heated, I pull away. “I’d better go before I get distracted.”

He chuckles and lets his hands drop from my waist. “Have a good time. I hope this one works out better for you than cooking did.”

I give him a fake glare and leave the kitchen. Once my shoes are on, I put my phone in my back pocket and head out. I’d looked up and memorized how to get there yesterday. On the phone, the woman whose dog I’m walking sounds like a cute little old lady. Apparently, she used to walk Randy herself, but she finds it more difficult now as she’s gotten older. She’s afraid he’s going to throw her off balance and cause her to fall.

I’m happy to give her a hand. I’ve never had a dog, but I’ve spent some time over the years volunteering in shelters or other charity efforts related to animals, so I feel pretty confident that I can take a dog for a walk.

The house is a cute little bungalow—well cared for with light yellow siding, navy shutters, and a cedar hatch roof. I knock on the door and hear who I assume is Randy barking behind the door.

A minute later, a sweet-looking elderly lady opens the door. “Hello, you must be Mazzy.”

“I am. Nice to meet you.” I hold out my hand and she shakes it.

Her grip is frail, and her fingers look as though they’re racked by arthritis. No wonder she needs someone to help her with Randy.

“Good to meet you. And this is Randy. I’ve already got him on a leash for you.” She passes me a leash and a large Golden Retriever steps out onto the porch, panting and wagging his tail.

“Terrific.” I bend down and let him smell my hand. “We’re going to be fast friends, aren’t we, Randy?”

He barks as if he understands what I’m saying.

“And here are the bags for his… you know.”

I take them from her and smile. “Wonderful. Anything I should know before I head out?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. You’re going to be a good boy, aren’t you, Randy?” She gives him a look that gives me pause like maybe he’s not always a good boy.

I have visions of Jemma’s dog. The night we were out with her friends, she told me about how her dog goes crazy every time he sees a squirrel and he’s impossible to pull away.

“All right, well, we’ll see you in about a half an hour.”

“Have fun, dear.” She waves as we make our way down the porch steps.

Things go well for about the first two minutes. Randy smells every blade of grass we pass and pees on a fire hydrant, then a stop signpost, then again on a tree.

Jeez, this dog must drink a lot of water. Things take a turn for the worse after he’s done peeing. When he stops, at first I think he’s just stopping to sniff something, so I continue walking and tug the leash. Then the next thing I know, his paws are on my shoulder blades and I feel frenetic movement from behind.

Oh my God, is this dog humping me?

I push his paws off my shoulders and turn around. “Bad boy. No, Randy!”

He pays no heed to my words, trying to mount me from the front now.

“Ack!”

I back up, but he’s persistent. Any time he gets close to me, his hips start moving and his tongue hangs out the side of his mouth.

A car honks on its way by, some teenagers yelling and laughing out the window with their phones pointing in my direction. It distracts me for a second, and Randy sees his opportunity and pounces as if he’s a damn cat, coming up to my side and humping my leg.

“Oh my God, no, get off, Randy!”

I don’t want to hurt the dog, so I try to get away as gently as I can, but Randy is not having it. He’s panting and his hips could win a Hula-Hoop competition, he’s moving them so fast.

We spent the entire walk with me trying to prevent Randy from getting his jollies off on me. By the time I arrive back at the house, I’m sweating like crazy, half my hair is loose from my ponytail, and I have scratch marks on my legs. Stupid me wore shorts.

I knock on the door. Rather than humping me, Randy sits calmly at my side, the picture of perfect canine behavior. What the hell, dog?

The door swings open and Randy rushes inside, so I let the leash drop.

“How did it go?”

“Um… it was interesting. Randy was pretty… excited the whole time.”

She gives me a knowing smile that deepens the creases on her face. “Ah yes, he can get like that on his walks. Something about the fresh air gets him all riled up.”

“Is he always so… excited?” I ask.

“Well that’s why he’s named Randy, dear.”

* * *

I arrive backat Nick’s house wanting to do nothing more than take a long hot shower. I’ve never felt so dirty in my life.

The TV is on, so I head into the living room and find Nick on the sofa, unshed tears glistening in his eyes.

“What happened? Is everything okay?” I step into the room.

Nick blinks as if he just realized I’m there and looks from me to the TV. That’s when I realize he’s watching Grey’s Anatomy. And it’s the episode where McDreamy dies.

I laugh. I can’t help myself. I sobbed like a baby when I watched this episode, but Nick has insisted he doesn’t really like the show, that he’s just watching it because he likes to make fun of it.

“I knew you loved this show,” I say, laughing.

He scowls at me. “You’d have to be dead inside not to let this episode affect you.”

That only makes me laugh harder for some reason.

“Are you just about done?” he says, turning off the TV.

“I’m sorry. It’s just after the ridiculous way I spent the last hour, this is the icing on the cake.”

He stands and walks over to me. “Do tell.” He looks at the scratches on my legs and bends down to get a better look. “What the hell happened?”

“The dog scratched me.”

“We should put some ointment on those.” He straightens back up. “Did you get in a fight with the dog?”

“No, the dog tried to hump me the entire walk. And I mean the entire walk, Nick! It was like I was a blow-up doll for canines.”

Nick laughs. And apparently he can’t stop, just like I couldn’t.

“What did you do?” he somehow asks while laughing.

“I tried to get him off me, but he just wouldn’t stop. His hips were going like this.” I give him a demonstration. “And his tongue was hanging out of his mouth. All the cars that drove by saw it. It was mortifying.”

“I’m picturing it in my head and it’s hilarious, but I bet it was even funnier in person.” He’s holding his gut while laughing so hard.

“Are you just about finished?” I cross my arms and pout.

“C’mere. I promise I won’t try to hump you,” he says with a laugh and pulls me into him. I roll my eyes but go willingly. “What did you tell his owner?”

“I told her I don’t think dog walking is for me. That was enough to turn me off of the idea.”

“Sounds like only one of you was turned off.”

I smack his chest. “Enough.”

“Hey, you don’t tell anyone I almost cried at Grey’s Anatomy and I won’t tell anyone about your dog humping incident. Deal?”

My forehead drops to his chest and I chuckle. “Deal.”

We seal the deal with a kiss.