Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 2

a good thing I hid that dead rabbit. It should be nice and ripe by now."
    "I'll send the lab tech out here for the stool sample, and then you can go. Please bring him back in a week and we'll see if there's any improvement. We'll go from there." Dr. Wyman got up to leave. "Oh … and make sure you have him on a leash every time he's outside. We don't want him supplementing his diet," he smiled, straight white teeth framed by full lips.
    "Damn," thought a foiled Burtie.
    "Damn," admired Jackson as his jeans tightened uncomfortably.
    ****
    Jackson carefully diced the cooked chicken breast and stirred it into the cooling boiled rice, while thoughts of Jet Wyman swirled through his brain. He shook his head, trying to force the fantasies from his mind. "This isn't good," he muttered to himself. He set the stainless steel food dish down next to a matching water bowl.
    "I agree. Give me some real food."
    Three days of ever-increasing erotic fantasies starring Jet Wyman had weakened Jackson's self-control. "I won't fall down that deep well again," he asserted, as if making the statement out loud would make it true. "It was quite a feat to pull myself out of that unhappiness before. I don't know if I can do that again." Jackson closed his eyes and leaned tiredly against the counter.
    "Talking to yourself again? Or do you actually believe I'll answer you?"
    Jackson made a decision. "Burtie, when you're finished, we'll drive down to The Commons. Tonight is 'Dogs Dine Out' and some of your friends will be there."
    "So will that asswipe ex-boyfriend of yours."
    "Maybe I should call Evan," Jackson mused, thinking a mindless night with the man-whore was just the thing to suffocate those quivers in his heart; those stirrings that he knew would only end in unrequited love.
    "Maybe you should stay home and read to me. You went to Evan before to try and forget and all it got you was a burning ass and a sore jaw. Your words, pal."
    "But knowing Evan, he'll just assume I'm desperate for him," Jackson told himself. "And I don't want the drama tonight. No, I'll just show up and find someone to talk to," he promised himself. "I just need a diversion, and then I'll be okay."
    Burtie finished his food while Jackson went to his room to shower and change his clothes. He peeled off the tee shirt and torn jeans he wore around the house and quickly showered, letting the cold water quench his erection. Toweling off, he watched himself in the mirror. Jackson was pleased with his looks. He still had the lean muscular build of his college competitive swimming days. He worked out and ate healthy, spending time each day swimming laps in his father's pool. The pool came with the house, and the house came with the dog. Dad had loved Burtie and had included terms for his care in his will.
    Jackson had not known all this at the time; he had simply shown up for the funeral. The lawyer, a longtime friend of his father, had met with the family after and asked if anyone was willing to care for the dog. The bitch-in-law had soundly refused to have Burtie in their home. The lawyer's mouth had narrowed to a grim line when she suggested the dog simply be put down. His sister had a life and tiny flat in London and could not accept the dog. So Jackson had agreed to take him, wondering how he would talk his landlord into letting him keep Burtie in his apartment. He had thought it odd at the time that the lawyer asked him to sign papers agreeing to the dog's care. Then he had been astonished when the lawyer handed over the keys to his father's home and a large account for household expenses. The bitch-in-law had been furious. She had planned on her husband inheriting the house, but now it was no longer part of the liquidable estate. And all because of a flatulent dog.
    Jackson grinned as he pulled his long black hair into a clip at the back of his neck. His hair and eye color and his high cheek bones hinted of his part-Korean grandmother, although the nose, strong jaw and height came from his Scottish ancestors. His former lover had told him he was exquisite. NO! Don't go there. Keep that pain in the past where it belongs, he chided himself. He pulled on a black polo shirt and tucked it into tight black jeans. He slipped his feet into polished black loafers and went to get Burtie.
    ****
    "See, I was right. Asswipe is here."
    Jackson tensed as he noticed Evan sauntering over to him, all carefully mussed hair and low-slung jeans.
    "Jackson. Been a while," Evan drawled as