The Accidental Mermaid (Accidentally Paranormal Series Book 16)

by Dakota Cassidy

  Companionship was what she’d come here for, and she’d done her research about adopting, and shelters, and pet rescues. None of her research told her to act on impulse and adopt the worst possible match she could find. Viv had told her to think long and hard before choosing in order to break the cycle of unwanted pets.

  But there was no time to think long and hard. He was going to die.

  Die.

  Dogs were a lot of work. What if she couldn’t get home in time to walk him? Maybe she could pay Jonah, the kid from the apartment below hers, to walk him?

  After Jonah’s mother did a full-on exorcism, of course. Because if Patricia got one look at this creature, she’d break out the rosary before she’d let Jonah anywhere near him.

  Walk away now, JC. Find a nice kitten. They were a whole lot less in the way of maintenance. They amused themselves. An even bigger plus, they cleaned themselves. Sometimes they even sat in your lap and snuggled with you.

  Dan was right. Cujo definitely wasn’t cut out for lap sitting.

  Still, something about this mutt’s eyes, dark and earnest, screamed more laid behind his disdain for the world at large. As though understanding her uncertainty, he nudged her hand lightly as if to tell her to hurry her indecision along.

  She cupped his chin through the cage, scratching the underside of his matted jaw. “You’re an ungodly mess, you know. If we do this, not a peep about bath time. Not one. Got that?” JC cocked her head at the piercing gaze he pinned her with. Her heart twisted when he nuzzled her hand again, shifting his stance to press closer to the chain-link cage.

  He’d take up more space than she probably had in any one room in her apartment. Not to mention a fortune would be spent on feeding and veterinary care.

  He’s also destined to die, JC.

  She examined him one last time, wrinkling her nose at his stench. He continued to follow her gaze, stoic, unflinching.

  “I know this is going to sound like a line, but I haven’t seen him act like this,” Dan said, cutting into her thoughts. “He’s been snarling and growling at anything that moves since the drugs wore off. No one could even get near enough to feed him properly. As I said earlier, we literally threw the food over to him.”

  As if on cue, when Dan moved closer to the cage, she felt the low vibration of Tough Guy’s growl beneath her fingertips.

  JC tapped his nose with the tip of her finger. “Stop that right now. If you want a home, you’re going to have to roll light and easy, buddy. Quit with the junkyard dog act and behave.”

  Instantly, he backed off, standing down, his eyes still searching hers.

  It was that look, the brief glimpse of compliance that cinched the deal. She sighed with resignation. Yep. Her mind was made up.

  “So, riddle me this, Smells Like Unwiped Butt—am I looking for a miracle, or are you housetrained?”

  Manny slapped Dan on the back with a hearty chuckle. “Winner, winner chicken dinner!”

  * * * *

  Looking down at her new fur-buddy, JC winced. He proved even bigger out of the confines of the small space at the shelter. When Dan had opened his cage, Cujo had literally spilled out as though he’d been freshly tumble-dried.

  His hair was more deeply matted than she’d originally thought, and his breath smelled like a Jersey dump.

  Manny and Dan had managed to arrange Cujo’s escape with the other volunteers, and she’d offered a hefty donation to the shelter in gratitude. They’d prepared a festive “Happy Adoption Day” mint-green gift bag for Cujo’s departure, full of all sorts of pamphlets and a six-month supply of heartworm medication.

  Grabbing her purse and the leash from the gift bag, JC hooked it to the collar the shelter provided and gave it a tug. To which he responded by planting his overgrown ass firmly on the floor and refusing to budge, his wide paws pressing against the slippery tile.

  Manny clucked his tongue, folding his arms over his chest. “You want help?”

  JC gripped the leash in her hands and shook her head, standing her ground. “Nope. He has to learn who’s boss.” That would be her.

  But Cujo begged to differ. If one could dig deeper into a tiled floor, Cujo did. So well, in fact, he was like trying to move concrete.

  She tapped him on the head and gave him a pleading look, and from all the literature she’d read, thoroughly destroyed establishing herself as an alpha pack leader. “Aw c’mon, you brute, I’m going take you home and feed you. I’m saving your life, pal. You’re not going to look this gift horse in the mouth, are you?”

  Solemn brown eyes gazed back at her, unblinking.

  JC knelt beside him, stroking smelly tufts of fur along his back. “Look, mister, this is freedom. You’re on death row. Need I say more? That means a forever pass over the Rainbow Bridge. So, you have two choices. Move it, or lethal injection. Now don’t make an ass out of me. Let’s get the hell out of here.” She rose and tugged on the leash again, this time with a bit more force.

  Nothing.

  The pretty blonde receptionist held up a bag of dog cookies from behind her perch at the desk. “Dog treat?” she asked with a smile, handing them to JC. “I give them to my dogs, too. They’re good for him, and he’s been known to find his motivation with the right kind of food.”

  “How would you know?” Dan asked.

  The receptionist winked. “Because I’m a bad shelter worker, and I totally ignored your orders to remain unattached by tossing him a cookie over the top of his cage, okay? Oh, and I do it all the time. So there,” she said with a laugh, sticking her tongue out at him.

  Dan sighed. “You’re all like unruly children.”

  “Hey look, ray o’ sunshine, doggie treats.” JC sniffed the interior of the bag, pulling out a bone-shaped treat. Wiggling it under his nose, she tried to entice him.

  He staunchly refused, defiantly turning his head.

  JC dropped the leash and leaned toward his pointy ear. His position shifted almost as though he were really listening to her, ready and willing to absorb her words. “Okay, bud, I could just leave you here, you know. I mean, we could skip the happy ending where you get the unicorn. Totally up to you. But here’s what my happy ending includes. It’s the one where I take you home, bathe you, feed you, and let you sleep next to me on the floor beside my bed. Sorta like Timmy and Lassie, together at last. Maybe you don’t know the term Rainbow Bridge? But that bridge isn’t here on this plane, sunshine, and that’s where you’re headed. That’s the nice term for where you go when they kill you,” she whisper-yelled.

  The mutt’s massive backside miraculously lifted. His long snout nuzzled her hand before he walked toward the glass doors with a slow shuffle. Turning, he looked at her as if to say, “Well?”

  She gave Dan and Manny a quick smile of gratitude before following him to the doors, chucking him under the chin. “I like a dog who listens to reason. Now come on, you beast. We need to get you home and get you a bath, but first we need to think of a name for you. How do you feel about ‘Pain in the Ass’?”

  Chapter 2

  “Okay, champ, it’s bath time, and don’t even think about pulling that act of defiance you pulled back at the shelter. You smell like the bowels of hell. No way you’re sleeping in my bedroom smelling like that. So let’s get all the shitty stuff out of the way now, and then I’ll give you a nice bowl of that kibble with lamb and rice we bought.” JC turned on the taps, adding some of the flea dip that had come so highly recommended from the pet store for good measure.

  He arrogantly sniffed at her neck, wedging his big snout between her shoulder and ear.

  She wrinkled her nose. “Who labeled you unsociable? You’ve been nothing but my BFF since we left the shelter.”

  She’d taken him to the local store where all the in-the-know pet owners went to get the necessary must haves. He’d been unpleasant to say the least, baring his teeth and humming that low growl at everyone who passed by.

  Or more specifically, every man who passed by. He was territ
orial and pushy, and constantly defied her directions.

  The cute guy with the poodle didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of getting past Cujo. Thankfully, he’d maintained himself long enough for JC to get a dog bowl and some food. She’d also grabbed a blue doggie toothbrush to clean up his unsightly teeth.

  He’d sat rather solemnly in the car on the way home, filling up the entire backseat of her small Prius with his massive body. Occasionally he sniffed her ear, making her giggle, but he seemed content to take in his surroundings, watching the scenery fly by the car window.

  Each time JC took a peek at him in the rearview mirror, she began to see his potential, and her heart ached at the idea he’d been so close to being euthanized, which only served to endear him to her more.

  When they’d reached her apartment, JC had let him go, fully expecting he’d want to check out his new surroundings. As long as he didn’t discover her new carpet with his leg in the air, he was free to explore.

  However, he didn’t explore much. In fact, he didn’t leave her side at all. Now in her tiny blue and yellow bathroom, he was literally going to have to be surgically removed from her ass. His massive gray body sat on the bath mat, taking over the small tiled space, his eyes monitoring her every move, waiting, assessing.

  JC pointed to the tub of warm water, and his gaze followed her finger. “So here’s the deal. You get in. You under no circumstances move. Not a muscle. We’re a team now. That means you help me, I help you.” Wrapping her arms around his bulky torso, she hauled him into the tub.

  He didn’t fight her, but he certainly wasn’t making things breezy. He sat stiff and unblinking as she sprayed him thoroughly with the showerhead, running her hands through his thick coat of hair, loosening mats as she went.

  Sitting back on her haunches, JC assessed. Some dogs looked smaller when wet, but not Cujo. He was just as enormous wet as he was dry, the muscles in his back legs bulky and wide, his chest broad and hard. “Okay, so here comes the smelly flea stuff. I have to let it sit on you for fifteen minutes according to the bottle. How about we get to know each other while we wait?”

  JC began working up a soapy lather, scrubbing at his dense hair to cover all flea-riddled areas. Satisfied, she sat back on the toilet seat and scratched behind his ears to keep him occupied. He tilted his head, allowing her the best vantage to his happy spot.

  “So about you. Where did you come from? I mean, did someone own you at one time, or were you always on the streets? Did you run away from home? Get lost during a family trip? Was someone cruel and abusive to you?” JC’s stomach churned at the notion. Leaning forward, she trapped his muzzle between her hands, searching his chocolate-brown eyes. “That would really piss me off.”

  His big pink tongue swiped her nose in response, making her gag. “God, that breath of yours could peel my skin off. Good thing we got that toothbrush, huh?”

  He reared his head back and turned away from her as though insulted.

  JC scratched his ear again, smiling when he couldn’t resist the pleasure and gave in by leaning closer. “Don’t get defensive. I’m sure in all your stray-ness, toothbrushes were hard to come by.”

  She reached for the blue toothbrush, squirting a liberal amount of paste on it. Holding it up, she grinned at him when he tried to make himself small by backing away. JC cupped his muzzle. “Say ‘ah’,” she teased, pressing the bristles to his mouth.

  He bucked a bit, shifting his stance before giving in.

  “Good boy. So, of course you want to know all about me, right?”

  He gagged.

  JC barked a laugh. “I’ll take that as a yes. So, I’m thirty-two, single, and I’m part owner of a salon here in Hoboken—born and raised here, by the way. Also, an only child. I work a lot because my salon is really busy, but also because my personal life is pretty uninteresting. Not much of a partier, mostly a homebody. I love to read, I crotchet a helluva doily and I love anything DIY. Was addicted to Candy Crush, but I think I’ve finally kicked the habit. Broke up with my douchenozzle of a boyfriend, Jess, about two months ago because he cheated on me. Caught him and his Jersey Shore/Snookie knock-off in bed together red-handed. The search for my knight in shining armor is on hiatus right now. That means, until further notice, it’s just you and me, Prince of Hair.” Maybe forever, the way things are looking on the romance horizon.

  JC looked at him for any kind of reaction to find even he looked depressed after hearing the description of her life. “I know, I know. I’m not exactly a total scream. But listen, I’m loyal, hardworking, and though my place is small, it has to beat the smelly shelter, right?”

  His nose twitched.

  She raised her fist to the ceiling with a grin. “I’m going to take that as a ‘hell yeah’. Time to rinse, buddy.”

  Six bath towels later, he was like a brand-new dog. She worked diligently to untangle the mats in his hair as she toweled him, and then dug around under the bathroom sink for her blow dryer.

  “Now don’t get all freaked out on me, it’s noisy, and I know you’ve suffered your fair share of indignities today, but with all this hair, we need to dry you. It’s too cold out to let you air dry. So sit, okay?” That was probably the wrong way to address him. The Dog Whisperer said she had to be the alpha of her pack. But he appeared to respond best when she took a friendlier approach.

  Again, he didn’t budge, patiently waiting while she plugged the dryer in and got the new dog brush from her bag of purchases. While she attacked the task of drying him, JC chatted at the dog as if he were a new girlfriend. Not that he seemed to care much. In fact, he had all the haughty disdain she’d attributed to a cat covered.

  There were no happy belly rubs or sighs of contentment.

  Just him and his completely unfazed, eerily quiet resolve.

  And the stare. He did a lot of the stare.

  Clean and dry, though, he was quite impressive. His dark gray fur lightened considerably with a good cleaning and some softer threads of black were now visible down the length of his back. The fur around his face was full and springy and he smelled a hundred times better than he had two hours ago.

  Her beautician’s hands primped and scrunched, running her fingers affectionately along his body as she went. “You’ve got an impressive coat there, buddy. Very fluffy.”

  Fluffy.

  “That’s it! How do you feel about the name Fluffy?” She cupped his jaw, staring into his deep-brown eyes as though she expected him to answer.

  More staring back at her—hard, in fact. Rather unnerving.

  “What? Why the face? You don’t like it? Look, you’re one scary mothereffer. I can’t keep calling you Cujo. It only adds to your already freaky-deaky outward appearance. Maybe the name Fluffy will take some of that edge off when we go to the dog park. It implies cuddly and sweet, don’t you think? Sort of your bark is worse than your bite…don’t judge a book by its cover?”

  He huffed at her when she slung her arms around his broad neck and gave him a squeeze, choosing to ignore the odd rumble he made low in his throat.

  She pulled her phone from her pocket and held it up, drawing him close to her. “Selfie time, Fluff,” she said on a laugh when he twitched.

  Planting a kiss on his clean muzzle, she winked at him. “Wait until I show the girls at work how gorgeous you are.”

  * * * *

  A selfie? Look, guys, Fluffy has a selfie.

  And Fluffy? F-L-U-F-F-Y? Max ticked the letters off mentally.

  Christ. Who named a “dog” of his size and stature Fluffy? A poodle made complete sense, even a Chihuahua. I got your fluffy.

  Full, with a thick, luxurious coat that happened to be worn and a little travel weary? Yes.

  But fluffy? No.

  Catching a glimpse of himself in her full-length mirror, Max shuddered, watching the ripples of his fur shimmer on his hindquarters. Jesus, she’d made him look like some mutant Chia Pet.

  Wasn’t it enough she’d shoved dog treats under his
nose and tied a leash around his neck? Taken him to PetSmart and paraded him up and down the aisles with all those pampered, condescending pooches lifting their noses as he passed?

  To degrade him this way, by giving him a name better suited to a bunny rabbit, was almost more than he was willing to suffer for his life mate.

  Max could almost hear his pack, laughing and laughing.

  Damn this woman. If she weren’t so good looking, if her scent wasn’t driving him out of his ever-loving mind, he’d pick up and go the hell home.

  But he couldn’t. Whatever she had—whatever mystifying pull that drew him to her like a mesmerizing Mata Hari—just wasn’t gonna let him go.

  JC was his prophecy. He’d known it ten seconds after she’d appeared in front of his cage at the shelter, even as groggy as he was from the tranquilizer.

  He’d. Known.

  He didn’t feel the emotional ties he was sure most felt when they found the person they’d share their lives with just yet, but he knew if he let her go, he’d suffer not just the curse, but something he hadn’t quite defined.

  That as-yet-undefined emotion was what had led him to play along at the shelter.

  He’d awakened too late to shift into his human form, and he had no clothes anyway. But something told him to stay put. Something invisible.

  And if scent really had anything to do with finding your life mate, JC definitely smelled like his mate. Her scent was different than any other he’d ever encountered. A unique blend of female and flowers and pheromones that made his blood pump hard and his head light.

  Not to mention, she was beautiful. She had the most gorgeous ass he’d ever seen, plump and round. Her firm, lush breasts, full hips and glossy pink lips were nothing to scoff at either. And her hair…Hair a man could wrap around his fist as he came. Just touching her shoulders, it fell in raven waves around her heart-shaped face.

  But it was her eyes that intrigued him the most. A light brown beneath full, dark lashes that swept her cheeks when she looked down at him.