Read Online Crazy For You by Jennifer Crusie - Free Book Online
Authors: Jennifer Crusie
Tags: Contemporary
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deep breath. She was upset, but she’d calm down. “We can’t leave the apartment. It’s a great deal. And it’s close to school. It’s—”
“I said, I’ll move,” Quinn said. “You can stay there.”
“Quinn—”
“It wasn’t working out for us anyway,” she said flatly, all emotion gone from her voice, only tightness there. “And now that you’ve stolen my dog, it never will.”
Bill wanted to shout at her, but he didn’t. No point in them both behaving badly. “Don’t be ridiculous. You are not going to move out.”
She looked at him then, and Bill wished she hadn’t. “You just watch me,” she said evenly. “You just watch me go.”
Bill stopped arguing. It was futile with Quinn in this irrational state. She’d calm down and then she’d see reason. He switched over to thinking about the weight room—who was slacking, who was going to have to add weight, who was bulking up too much for agility—and he was so caught in his own plans that he almost missed the turnoff to Animal Control.
Once inside, Quinn was worse, practically leaping over the counter to grab the poor woman in the brown uniform by the throat. She was a nice woman, too, a real Tiger fan, she’d told him when he’d brought the dog in. “You’re doing such a fine job, Coach,” she’d said, and he’d thanked her because community support was vital to a good athletic program. Her name was Betty, he remembered now. He felt a little embarrassed when she led them back to the pens and Quinn sank to her knees on the concrete and reached her hand through the bars and called “Katie” as if she’d been parted from the mutt for centuries instead of just hours. The dog came tiptoeing up to her, shaking all over. It was acting, Bill knew. Dogs were manipulative like that, always looking at you with those calculating eyes, especially this sneaky, sly little rat. The pen was huge and the place was warm and there was a bowl of food and a water dispenser right there; clearly this dog was not suffering.
“Get her out of here,” Quinn said without looking at him. She was stroking the dog through the bars, giving it all of her attention. “Get her out of here now.”
Something in her voice, something strange and a little frightening, made Bill decide this was not the time to argue. “I brought the dog in this morning,” he told Betty. “I’d like her back.”
“Sorry, Coach, but that’ll be thirty dollars plus the license fee.” Betty was clearly apologetic. “That’s the law.”
Bill wanted to protest that since he was the one who’d brought the dog in, surely he should be able to take it back for free, but it was easier to pay the money. No point in annoying a Tiger fan, and besides, the sooner he got Quinn out of there, the sooner he could talk some sense into her and get rid of the dog for good. He’d have to find it a home, though. Animal Control was obviously not going to satisfy Quinn.
It was unlike her to be this unreasonable. Maybe it was PMS.
Out in the car, Quinn cuddled the dog to her, not speaking, while it looked over her shoulder at Bill and smirked. Bill ignored it. He might be stuck with the damn thing for a while, but not for long. He and Quinn had a future, and it didn’t have a dog in it, no matter how mad she was right now.
“So what are your plans for this afternoon?” he said heartily, trying to get them back to normal.
“I’m moving out,” Quinn said in the same voice she might have used to say, “I’m having pizza with Darla.”
“Oh, come on, Quinn.” Bill took the turn to the road to the school a little too sharply in his annoyance. “Stop being childish. You are not moving out. We’ll talk about this when I get home.”
When she didn’t say anything, he knew he’d made his point, and he let his mind go back to the wrestlers. Some bad attitudes there, Corey Mossert’s among them. Too bad Corey wasn’t more like Jason Barnes. Corey and Jason were best friends, though.
“I said, I’ll move,” Quinn said. “You can stay there.”
“Quinn—”
“It wasn’t working out for us anyway,” she said flatly, all emotion gone from her voice, only tightness there. “And now that you’ve stolen my dog, it never will.”
Bill wanted to shout at her, but he didn’t. No point in them both behaving badly. “Don’t be ridiculous. You are not going to move out.”
She looked at him then, and Bill wished she hadn’t. “You just watch me,” she said evenly. “You just watch me go.”
Bill stopped arguing. It was futile with Quinn in this irrational state. She’d calm down and then she’d see reason. He switched over to thinking about the weight room—who was slacking, who was going to have to add weight, who was bulking up too much for agility—and he was so caught in his own plans that he almost missed the turnoff to Animal Control.
Once inside, Quinn was worse, practically leaping over the counter to grab the poor woman in the brown uniform by the throat. She was a nice woman, too, a real Tiger fan, she’d told him when he’d brought the dog in. “You’re doing such a fine job, Coach,” she’d said, and he’d thanked her because community support was vital to a good athletic program. Her name was Betty, he remembered now. He felt a little embarrassed when she led them back to the pens and Quinn sank to her knees on the concrete and reached her hand through the bars and called “Katie” as if she’d been parted from the mutt for centuries instead of just hours. The dog came tiptoeing up to her, shaking all over. It was acting, Bill knew. Dogs were manipulative like that, always looking at you with those calculating eyes, especially this sneaky, sly little rat. The pen was huge and the place was warm and there was a bowl of food and a water dispenser right there; clearly this dog was not suffering.
“Get her out of here,” Quinn said without looking at him. She was stroking the dog through the bars, giving it all of her attention. “Get her out of here now.”
Something in her voice, something strange and a little frightening, made Bill decide this was not the time to argue. “I brought the dog in this morning,” he told Betty. “I’d like her back.”
“Sorry, Coach, but that’ll be thirty dollars plus the license fee.” Betty was clearly apologetic. “That’s the law.”
Bill wanted to protest that since he was the one who’d brought the dog in, surely he should be able to take it back for free, but it was easier to pay the money. No point in annoying a Tiger fan, and besides, the sooner he got Quinn out of there, the sooner he could talk some sense into her and get rid of the dog for good. He’d have to find it a home, though. Animal Control was obviously not going to satisfy Quinn.
It was unlike her to be this unreasonable. Maybe it was PMS.
Out in the car, Quinn cuddled the dog to her, not speaking, while it looked over her shoulder at Bill and smirked. Bill ignored it. He might be stuck with the damn thing for a while, but not for long. He and Quinn had a future, and it didn’t have a dog in it, no matter how mad she was right now.
“So what are your plans for this afternoon?” he said heartily, trying to get them back to normal.
“I’m moving out,” Quinn said in the same voice she might have used to say, “I’m having pizza with Darla.”
“Oh, come on, Quinn.” Bill took the turn to the road to the school a little too sharply in his annoyance. “Stop being childish. You are not moving out. We’ll talk about this when I get home.”
When she didn’t say anything, he knew he’d made his point, and he let his mind go back to the wrestlers. Some bad attitudes there, Corey Mossert’s among them. Too bad Corey wasn’t more like Jason Barnes. Corey and Jason were best friends, though.
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