Just Good Friends (Cheap Thrills 5) - Page 52

Before we even put all the lights on, the smell of something foul hit us, and I just knew the night was about to change for the worse.

“Pretty girl, I don’t suppose you put rotten meat in the trash can and forgot to take it out, did you?” I was hoping and praying she said yes, but I just knew she wouldn’t.

Taking a breath in to reply as she hit the lights, she choked and made a gagging noise. “No, but now I understand why you’re asking.”

With a groan, I turned around and scanned the living room, expecting to find the source of it there. When nothing showed up, I took a step deeper into the house, looking around the whole time.

“Is this the canine version of hide and seek?” Tamsin whispered, holding onto my hand and watching the floor in front of us. “They poop somewhere and hide it?”

The deeper we went into the house, the more confusing it was, until we got to the bathroom in the hallway.

What greeted us was fucking insane. “What the fuck?”

Looking under my arm, Tamsin made a squeaking noise. “He… he shat in the bathroom?”

Clyde hadn’t just shit in the bathroom. He’d shit in the shower cubicle twice and three times in front of the toilet and sink.

Holding my arm over my nose, I did my best not to breathe in through my mouth either. “What did you feed him?”

She was still stuck on what we were looking at, though. “The dog’s a genius. Instead of pooping in the house, he came to where we do it—well, you do it, because I don’t do that kind of thing—and did it here. Is there some kind of canine world records or the world’s smartest canine award? Do you have your phone on you so I can take photos?”

Not waiting for a reply, she reached in the pocket of my slacks and pulled out my cell.

“I need you to drop your arm so it can unlock,” she said quickly, pulling my protective arm off my face.

Fun fact you’d never guess: when you’re trying not to puke at the same time as scrunching your face up because you’ve just inhaled a room full of dog shit, your phone can still scan your face and unlock. Who knew?

As soon as it was done, I had that arm straight back over my nose.

“What is it with your house and shit, baby? This can’t be normal. It’s like the worst horror movie plot ever.”

First Sheena, now the dog? And could she not smell the death in the room? How was she standing, calmly taking photographs of it all?

“Admittedly,” she murmured, taking a step farther into the room, “it isn’t a good thing, but you know what they say—shit happens.”

Unable to handle it any longer, I stepped back out of the room and stood in the hallway where the turd machine himself was standing waiting for me, his tail wagging like an automaton.

“Don’t you dare,” I growled at him. “You were saving that up, you little asshole.”

“Garrett?” Tamsin called. “Could you get me some gloves—the big ones that go up to the elbow for doing dishes—paper towels,”—Febreze?—“the bleach spray, antibacterial spray,”—every can of deodorant I can find?—“and antibacterial wipes, please?”

How was there no air freshener of any kind on that list?

Still, skirting around the shit machine, I went to go and get everything she’d asked for, dropping the can of Febreze and two other air fresheners that I found under the sink on top of the pile.

Pushing the door open with my foot, I took a gulping breath and entered the room of doom, preparing to drop the shit on the counter and run.

That was my plan. It was a great plan, the strategy of champions.

Until…

“I’m going to need a hand. I don’t know if I can do this with just one hand.”

And it’s not like I could say no, she had one of hers in a fucking cast and had been complaining to an empty bathroom about wiping her ass after she thought I’d left.

Yeah, in her mind, she didn’t poop—everybody freaking poops, but not Tamsin. I have no idea when or how she managed to go when I was at home on my days off, but sure as shit—pun intended—no poop.

That time I’d heard her had been hilarious, but I wouldn’t bring it up to her. If she was that paranoid about it, then I’d leave it until we were more comfortable around each other to do it.

Maybe that’s why she had so much air freshener?

It might have been a random time to consider it, but I saw two cans already on the counter as I looked around the room. From memory, I knew there was a full one in the bathroom that joined her bedroom.

Dumping the stuff down, I opened the cabinet under the sink and choked at what was in it. Toilet paper, tampons, shampoo and conditioner, body wash, this powder stuff that said it was scented, and another four different cans of air freshener.

Tags: Mary B. Moore Cheap Thrills Romance
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