Petting Them: An Anthology of Claw-ver Tails

by Tate James

  The crack it made as he snapped it over his knee pulled me out of my shocked stupor. I opened the door and jumped outside, closely followed by Denver and Remy, who was wagging his tail. Tatum then dropped the broken pieces of the sign in the yard.

  "Excuse me," I demanded, marching over to him.

  Tatum faced me right away, giving me his profile and ignoring my shouts as he took a moment to stare warningly at the broken sign, as if daring it to get up. When he finally spun around, I had to tip my head way back. I scanned his big body as I made my way up and up until I met his narrowed eyes. He’d always towered over the group, but he'd grown into his stature, with muscles that could only be achieved by hard work covering every inch of him. He had a thick, reddish beard now, like a lumberjack. It covered half his face and hid his mouth from me, but I knew his lips would be pressed tight and his jaw clenched, just as it always was when he was angry.

  "Excuse me," I tried again, swallowing back the smoky tone trying to give away my attraction. "You're defacing my property."

  Tatum stiffened at that, and a steely glint entered his honey eyes. "Your property?" he asked mockingly. I reared back slightly in disbelief. I hadn't expected Tatum to run to me with open arms, but I didn’t anticipate such a chilly welcome, either. I couldn't help but think of our goodbye almost fifteen years ago when Tatum didn't—wouldn’t—kiss me. He didn’t want me then, and he didn't want me now. That shouldn’t hurt so much after all these years, but I couldn’t pretend my chest didn’t feel tight as I stared up at him.

  "You can't sell this land," Tatum announced when I remained silent.

  I crossed my arms over my chest, my attraction pushed aside as irritation swept through me. Denver stepped between us, cutting me off just as I opened my mouth to tell Tatum I could damn well sell the property if I pleased.

  "Now, Tatum, we discussed this." Denver's voice slipped into an authoritative tone. It reminded me of all the times he'd boss us around as kids, and I fought back a smile. Suddenly, I felt very happy he'd chosen the profession of police officer. Maybe he'd escort Tatum off the property. "You can't keep taking down the For Sale sign."

  "You know as well as I do that she's going to sell this land to the highest bidder. That development company is going to bleed this town dry. She left this place and everyone in it. Merritt doesn't give a damn about this land." Or us. I heard the implied addition he left unsaid just as clearly as if he’d yelled it at me.

  I gaped at him in shock. His angry words felt like a physical blow, and the grain of truth in them only served to make them strike harder. It hadn’t been my choice to leave all those years ago, but he was right, I didn’t have any desire to keep my father’s property now. The guilt I felt about that—guilt I’d hidden, even from myself—flared, making me feel like the bad guy, which in turn made me feel defensive. I'd known my distance would have consequences and that my return might be met with hard questions and uncomfortable reunions. Still, I didn't expect Tatum to look at me with such animosity.

  If he wants to be an asshole, fine. I’ve had plenty of experience dealing with those.

  "I haven't decided who I'm selling it to, but it's none of your business," I interrupted, my voice much calmer than I felt as I stepped past Denver to stand toe-to-toe with Tatum.

  Mere inches separated us, and as I took in a bracing breath, I inhaled his woodsy scent. This close, I could see a small smile starting to tip his lips, almost hidden behind the scruff of his beard. There was an eager glint that entered his eyes. He used to love the fight in me and had a terrible habit of riling me up just to watch. It was one of the only times stoic Tatum actually let down his walls.

  It pissed me off to know he was enjoying this, and it it made me question how much of what he’d said he actually meant. But, whether he meant it or not, he’d hurt my feelings with the accusation that hit a little too close to home,, and I had no intention of suppressing the admittedly childish urge to hurt him back.

  "And you're right, I did leave. And I plan on leaving again. There is, quite obviously, nothing in this town left for me."

  Behind me, Denver sucked in a pained breath. I immediately winced. The second the words slipped out, I knew I’d gone too far. Seeing my old house, being swamped in all those buried feelings of abandonment, and now this upsetting, disheartening reunion with Tatum, were just too much all at once. My old insecurities were coming to a head, and the temper I’d worked so hard to tame was flaring.

  Tatum leaned in closer, his hot breath feathering over my skin. He gave me what I think he intended to be an intimidating stare, but I knew better. He might have grown up to be an asshole, but I could still see the protective boy I knew hidden in there.

  His pounding pulse along the vein in his neck and hooded, honey eyes said everything I needed to know. He could play this game if he wanted, but in the end, I affected him just as much as he affected me.

  Remy barked, tearing us out of our intense stare down. I turned towards Denver, and he gave me a tight, unhappy smile. I knew this wasn't the reunion any of us had planned or wanted. Deciding to end it now before one of us said something else we’d regret, I stepped back from them both.

  "I'm going inside. Stop tearing down my signs, or I’ll have to call the cops,” I warned mildly.

  I gave Denver a small apologetic smile before calling to the dog. "Come on, boy, let's go get settled."

  Remy walked towards Tatum and nudged his thigh, his tongue flopping out in a doggy grin. Tatum's serious expression slipped, and there it was: the smile he’d tried to hide from me, given to the dog instead. For just a second, I was jealous of the furball before I squashed the feeling. I watched as he scratched behind Remy's ears, only stopping once he saw me staring.

  Turning away from that look, I grabbed my things from the patrol car then stalked up the steps with Remy on my heels. I closed the door behind me, then leaned my back against the wood. Squeezing my eyes shut for a moment, I fought back the frustration I felt.

  Would it have been so hard for him to at least say hello? Was he really that mad at me?

  When I opened my eyes, I let out a gasp when I saw the house. It was like stepping into a time capsule.

  To my left, the floral printed couch faced the teal blue entertainment center my mama picked out. The only new thing was a flat screen TV. In the kitchen to my right, the bright wallpaper was peeling. I remembered the day my parents put it up, laughing as they flicked wet sponges at each other. Remy settled into a dog bed on the floor in the living room as I made my way down the hallway toward my old bedroom.

  My queen-sized four poster bed and yellow comforter seemed untouched. My white dresser had my old dolls still lined perfectly on top of it. In the closet, a couple of my clothes still hung. They were stiff with age but still right where I'd left them.

  Everything was right where I'd left it.

  I thought my father had moved on, that he hadn’t wanted me and couldn’t wait to have me out of his life, but everything about the house was still the same, like a snapshot of a memory. He’d clung to the past just as hard as I’d tried to let it go.

  Being in my old bedroom made my throat tight with an emotion I couldn't quite place. Spinning away, I fled down the hallway before halting abruptly when I spotted the family photo hanging proudly on the hallway wall. It was taken before my mama moved away. We were all at the pond where my father and I used to fish. Mama held him tightly as I stood beside them, staring at the large fish on his fishing line. My parents were looking at each other adoringly. I’d forgotten that there was once a time when they’d loved each other, a time when I used to think they were better than the princesses and princes in my favorite movies.

  Silent pain streamed down my cheeks as I was assaulted by a barrage of memories. It was hard to see the evidence of everything my mama had thrown away. The evidence of everything I was forced to leave.

  I when my phone began ringing in my pocket. Wiping away my tears and clearing my throat, I answered after ch
ecking the caller ID.

  "Hey, Mama."

  "Hey, Sweetie."

  Her voice still had a slight southern drawl, but it sounded more worn and rough from years of smoking now. Her time in Nashville had changed her, but at her core, she was still the same. She drew out her speech, and I imagined her lounging in her great room in her current husband’s mansion while sipping on a cocktail.

  "How is your trip going?" she asked.

  I knew she was dying to know how the town was. Despite her nonchalant attitude, she was dying of curiosity. My mother was a chronic gossip. "The flight was fine. Denver picked me up from the airport. Did you know he's a cop now?"

  She giggled on the other end. “I can picture that. He was always bossing y’all around, making sure you followed the rules and got home by curfew.”

  I smiled at that memory. Mama knew the guys well. Before she left my father, she acted as their surrogate mother, spoiling and scolding them as often as she did me.

  "Did you see the others?" she questioned.

  "Yes. Krew seems… different. He's working with his dad, I think."

  Mama let out a sigh. "That's a shame; I'd always hoped he'd get out of that town and away from him. Randall Strickland is a rotten man.”

  I pursed my lips. Sheaa thought everyone needed to get out of our small town. Even when she and my father father were happy, that was the one thing they fought about… other than money.

  "And Tatum?" Mama asked slyly.

  I could hear the smile in her voice. She used to tease me relentlessly that I had a crush on him. Little did she know, I had a crush on all of them.

  "I didn't get the chance to chat much with Tatum," I began as a fresh wave of hurt and irritation shot through me. "He was too busy trying to rip the For Sale sign out of the lawn and telling me how terrible of a person I've become."

  Mama laughed, the chipper melody of her giggles filling the phone speaker. "I give it three days till that boy—sorry, man—kisses you silly."

  "Oh please," I replied while rolling my eyes. "I'll be lucky if I can avoid him the rest of the time I'm here." For some reason I wasn’t willing to look too closely at, my chest squeezed when I said that.

  "How long are you staying?" she asked for what must have been the thousandth time since I'd announced I was coming here.

  "I've got two weeks off from work, then I'll be back in Nashville before heading to Texas on assignment."

  "Good," she replied instantly. "There's a reason I left, sweetie. Don't let it suck you back in. Your life is in Nashville now. You've got a nice apartment. A nice job. Nothing good happens in New Mexico."

  I looked around the room, taking in every familiar piece of history. The couch we would watch TV on, the kitchen Mama used to cook in, the kitchen table we used to play games on. I shut down my emotions before responding, "I'll see you in two weeks."

  4

  Retrieving my things from the foyer, I hauled my bags and reluctantly set them in my old room. I didn’t particularly want to be surrounded by so many painful memories— memories that now seemed to be much more complicated than I’d thought—but I wasn’t willing to stay in my father’s room, and there wasn’t a guest room.

  Making my way back to the kitchen, I opened the door leading to the basement where my father always had his office set up. I didn’t want to be in this house longer than necessary, but in order to leave, I had to first pack it up, which meant going through everything.

  Remy followed me down, his nails clicking on the wood stairs. For some reason, his presence lessened the childhood feeling of being where you weren’t supposed to be and, for the first time since meeting the furball, I was genuinely grateful to have him with me.

  Hours passed while I sorted through knick knacks and old paperwork, boxing up some while filling garbage bags with others until my back hurt from being bent over. Needing to rest, I sat in the creaky old chair in front of my dad’s desk and pulled open a drawer. Inside was a thick stack of what looked like police files. I glanced up, suddenly paranoid someone was going to burst in and catch me reading the confidential files before shaking my head at myself.

  Pulling them out and onto the top of the desk, I flipped back the top cover. Inside was a stack of surveillance photos of Randall Strickland, Krew, and various other men. They were all rough looking, and most were wearing the same leather vest with a big patch on the back saying Hounds Of Hell.

  Deeper in the stack were photos of Randall and a few other men at some kind of shady looking meeting in the desert. There were multiple SUVs parked in a rough circle, surrounding the people and the crates they were peering into. It had to have been shot with a telephoto lens because it was grainy and there was a sense of distance. But the next picture was clear enough for me to make out the brick-sized, cellophane-wrapped package in Randall’s hands. I’d seen enough movies to know immediately it was some kind of drug.

  Gasping, I dropped the picture and quickly closed the file before dropping it back into the drawer and slamming it shut. Remy, who’d been sleeping on another dog bed set on the floor, jumped at the noise and cocked his head at me. “What the hell is going on here, boy?” I whispered.

  The meeting with Krew, the glimpse of fear I saw in his eyes, suddenly seemed to make more sense. The unwelcome intrusion of Mr. Strickland in the diner hallway, him saying he couldn’t afford to have his best muscle distracted took on a new, ominous light. The basement felt suddenly claustrophobic. Standing, I walked quickly to the stairs, patting my thigh to call Remy to me.

  The kitchen wasn’t any better, the windows no longer bright and cheery but dim with approaching evening. I hadn’t realized I’d been down there so long, but as soon as I saw how late it had gotten, my stomach growled.

  After taking a few deep breaths to calm the foreboding feeling lingering in my mind, I made my way to my childhood bedroom. I grabbed my purse, but paused when I spotted my old camera sitting on the nightstand. Carefully picking it up, I brushed my thumb over the dusty lens. So many moments had been captured with this, so many memories. Deciding to take it with me, I put it in my purse then went to the foyer.

  With my hand on the door knob, I tilted my head to eye the dog sitting expectantly at my feet. I thought about leaving him there but caved when he whined. Sighing, I looked around and noticed a leash, dusty from disuse and hanging from a hook. After lifting it off, I bent to clip it to Remy’s collar. I was completely unprepared when he dodged me, darting away from the leash.

  “What are you… ” I started, frowning at him in surprise. Bending again, I moved faster that time, but he was faster still and darted in the other direction. “Stay still, you silly animal! It’s just a leash,” I muttered, narrowing my eyes at him.

  His response was to growl playfully and bow his upper body down, his back end raised in the air and his tail wagging. “Think this is a game, do you? Well, you’re wearing this leash, mister, and that’s all there is to it!” I declared.

  He answered with a distinctly taunting yip.

  Oh it’s on now, furball.

  Serious now, I lunged forward, one hand reaching to grab him while my other had the latch of the leash pulled back and ready to attach. Remy, with more agility than I would have expected from an older dog, feigned to the left before running to the right, bumping my side hard enough to send me sprawling. Pushing myself over, I gaped at him, then growled when he danced around like a demented bunny and barked excitedly.

  “Challenge accepted, mutt,” I warned, moving to my hands and knees, preparing to charge.

  Crawling forward as fast as I could, I managed to wrap my arms around his middle. Unfortunately, Remy was stronger and heavier than I anticipated. He dragged me along the wood floor before he stopped suddenly and flopped over, nearly crushing the life out of me.

  “Ooph! Damned dirty tactics, you feral beast!” I wheezed from under the bulk of his furry body.

  Five minutes of wrestling later, Remy still did not have the leash on, and my hair was a
wild mass of pale blonde tangles falling over my face. I was panting, sweating, and I’m pretty sure I’d managed to lose an earring in the process. Meanwhile, the hellion was sitting calmly by the front door, looking at me as if I were the crazy one.

  “Fine! Don’t wear the damn leash! But don’t come crying to me when the pound hauls you into lockup!” I huffed, climbing to my feet and trying to smooth my hair down.

  Sniffing haughtily, I snatched my purse from the floor and walked out the door, chin raised high as if I hadn’t just been bested by a canine. Said canine sauntered out behind me then waited patiently, for all the world like a well-trained dog while I closed and locked the door. “Never seen a dog look so damn smug,” I muttered to myself, giving him the side-eye.

  We’d just reached the end of the drive when a breeze blew by. I heard Remy sniffing before he spun around and took off running for the woods behind the house. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I blurted in disbelief.

  I felt my eye twitch and resisted the urge to pull my hair out as I spun on my heel and stomped after the mutt. I followed his barks through the woods, muttering about unreasonable animals, until I could see the shine of the setting sun on water through the foliage. My steps faltered. I knew exactly where he’d led me—the river. The guys’ and my secret spot.

  Stepping slowly out of the tree line, I gasped. I’d forgotten how stunningly beautiful it was here. My hand reached automatically for my purse and the camera within, but I froze when I realized I wasn’t alone.

  Tatum was sitting by the river’s edge not twenty feet from me, hunched over something in his lap, and Remy, the brat, was lying by his far side.

  They both glanced at me; Remy with a jaunty wag of his tail, Tatum with a shuttered look before he turned back to whatever he was doing, ignoring me. I got the distinct impression he wasn’t happy I was there.

  Well, that’s just too damn bad!