Rescued By A Kiss (The New Orleans Go Cup Chronicles Book 1) Read Free Page A

shared the side entrance. Julia said it was within “snooping distance” of my mother so she could hear me change my mind. Dad and Julia checked out the dog.
    Julia gushed over the furry black ball while the dog wiggled in her arms. Then she held him out at arm’s length. “He kinda stinks,” she put the dog down and looked for somewhere to wash her hands. “His hair looks like dreadlocks. Why don’t you name him Bob Marley? Are you sure he is a Schnauzer?”
    “Yes, he’s a Schnauzer and his name is . . . ,” I said trying to think of one.
    “Go Cup,” my dad finished for me. “With a name like Go Cup your mother will think he won’t be here long. You girls get going to the parade. I’ll take care of this little guy.” He continued to give the dog a vigorous head petting. “Boy, you do stink but you can’t help it, can you? I’ll get you cleaned up.”
    “Go Cup is all right, I guess, but spell it G-e-a-u-x instead of Go,” I said. “I’d planned to bathe him, but the parade traffic was awful. I found him tied to the fence outside the shelter.”
    My calling to do animal rescue came from Dad. He was always bringing home strays. When I was in sixth grade, Dad brought home a little black Schnauzer mix I named Cricket Ann. She lived with me for fifteen years. When she went to the Big Milk Bone in heaven, I decided I wanted a dog as close to her size and personality as possible. At the shelter, there was a full-bred black Schnauzer that looked just like her. I named him Meaux Jeaux and he put paw prints on my heart the second I saw him. Meaux ruled over everyone in our house, even my mother who made overtures of disapproval when it came to the dogs. But I would see her sneak scraps to Meaux under the table during dinner.
    “What are you wearing?” Julia asked, not waiting for me to answer my dad.
    “I’ll groom him when I get home if you’ll bathe him,” I said to Dad. “I’m wearing this,” I said to Julia, stepping out the bathroom in a turtleneck and jeans.
    “No, wear that scoop-neck sweater that shows some cleavage,” Julia said.
    “You know we can’t keep another dog. Your mother . . .” Dad was trying to change the conversation back to the dog.
    “I know. Four dogs are three over the limit.” Raising my right hand up and placing my left hand over my heart, I made the pledge. “I will go on record and say I plan to find this one a home.” To Julia I added, “I’m wearing parade colors,” as I pulled out a purple sweater and stepped back into my bathroom to change into it along with the matching lace bra and thong underwear as well. If someone was going to look down my sweater, I wanted them to know I had fashion sense. I put on a jacket and zipped it up to avoid my mother’s disapproving look on my way out the door.
    “After you move into your own place you can rescue all the dogs you want,” Julia said.
    “Are you moving out?” Dad’s head snapped up as he blurted out the question aimed at my bathroom door.
    “Baby birds are supposed to leave the nest, right?” I said stepping back into my room making flapping movements with my arms in an attempt to amuse him.
    “Well, I just thought you’d move out after you and Dante got married,” he said looking back at the dog and not making eye contact with me. Julia gave me an eye roll and head nod toward the door.
    “Well, I’d like to know I could make it on my own first. I’ve been thinking of getting an apartment, one that’s dog friendly.” I couldn’t look at Dad. I didn’t want to see the sad look in his eyes that matched the sound in his voice. We both knew it was high time for me to be making a life on my own. I needed to get out of my parents’ home, but according to my mother, nice girls didn’t move out until they were married. I hurried and said, “OK, Julia, let’s go. Danielle and Suzanne are meeting us there, and they’re saving us a good spot on Lee Circle.” I didn’t want Dad asking any