Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 1

hour to receive a response. Jordan scowled, not impressed with himself. If he hadn't had his work to occupy him, he'd probably be sitting there staring at the phone like a lovesick fool.
    Didn't say that .
    Well, hmm.
    Should I stop texting you?
    Again he waited. And waited.
    No .
    Jordan grinned like a lovesick fool for the rest of the day.
    ****
    He lived for the random moments he was able to touch base with Cal in such a simple way. The most ridiculous conversations made him grin for hours.
    What's your favorite color?
    Seriously?
    Just trying to get to know you.
    OK. I'm color blind.
    Really?
    No .
    He wasn't to be deterred.
    Whatcha doin'?
    Balancing on the precipice of madness. You?
    ---
    How 'bout now?
    Watching my dog shit. You?
    ---
    Not sure I should even ask...
    I wouldn't .
    Jordan had so often rolled his eyes at his son's insistence on the use of texts to communicate. But he was now convinced it was the most brilliant discovery ever. He learned quickly that Cal was sharp and funny and not a little bit sarcastic. He learned that the length of time Cal took to respond was determined entirely on how personal the question.
    When, after three days—and nights—of frequent texts, Cal finally initiated the conversation, Jordan almost sprang from his chair in orgasmic delight.
    The text that drove him to such a frenzy?
    Mornin'.
    Of course he realized he should have been disgusted with what a sap he was, and he would have been if a) anyone else had seen him—anyone at all—and b) he wasn't so preposterously happy. It was, however, only a baby step, as he discovered only moments later.
    Go out with me.
    No .
    Coffee?
    No.
    Call you?
    This time, the fact that he waited encouraged him. At least he knew Cal was considering it.
    Fine.
    He'd take it.
    ****
    Every month or so the large Petco in town opened the back of their store to the animal shelter so they could display and hopefully find homes for their current boarders. This Saturday found Jordan and Thomas at the store early to meet several other volunteers. Jordan took the opportunity to check over any new arrivals as well as offer his assistance with the adoptions or questions from pet owners.
    He had just tucked away the last of a litter of kittens when he heard the unmistakable screech of Mrs. Miller's voice. Taking a bracing breath, already filling with a cloud of perfume, he turned to greet her. He wasn't prepared for her to grab his arm and drag him with her. He shot a startled look over his shoulder at Thomas but the little punk just grinned and shrugged, helpless, it seemed, to come to Jordan's aid.
    "You have to see this, Dr. Mac." Mrs. Miller looked a tinge hyper, but not panicked, so Jordan followed—by choice, damn it—curious to see what had caused the peculiar gleam in her eye.
    Rounding the corner, he stopped short at the sight before him. Standing in the middle of an aisle of collars and leashes stood Cal. He held a fluff of white close up to his neck in one hand, his other hand rested on his hip. He was staring down in obvious disbelief and mounting hostility at the massive Winston backed up against his legs.
    But that wasn't the surprising part. Winston—the laziest, most apathetic animal Jordan had ever encountered—was actually growling at the young man in a Petco shirt standing against the rack across the aisle from Cal. Winston didn't appear overly aggressive, the boy wasn't in danger in Jordan's opinion, but the dog was certainly making his point.
    "What—" Jordan's eyes lit from Mrs. Miller to Cal to the boy. Mrs. Miller rushed forward. Jordan hurried ahead, immediately stepping between the young man and the dog. "What's happening?"
    Cal met his eyes and Jordan did his damnedest to not react to the annoyance on the man's face. Seeing Jordan apparently did little, if anything, to calm him. Calm wasn't exactly the reaction Jordan was having either, for that matter.
    Mrs. Miller started babbling. "We were just here to pick up a new rawhide chew when Winston trotted off down the aisle." Her hands were doing the fluttering thing again. He noticed the tips of her fingers were a brilliant pink today. She waved them back and forth between Cal and the employee.
    "Apparently he didn't like this young man talking to Mr. Sherbrook, because he jumped right in between them and started growling at..." A hand waved helplessly at the boy.
    "Uh. It's Lee." The boy croaked, eyes remaining warily on the dog. Winston had relaxed marginally upon