Free Ten Little Bloodhounds by Virginia Lanier Page B

enthusiasm. “There are five such locations in Balsa City alone,with lots more in the county. You’re in luck!”
    “There’s no middle ground?” He sounded wistful.
    “Nope, it’s goll-dern country, or there’s a place you can land behind Hardee’s and pick you up a burger to munch on your flight back to Little Cat Island, where a cordon bleu chef awaits to fulfill your every wish, twenty-four hours a day. Bon appetit!”
    “I was just kidding!” He seemed surprised when he heard the anger in my voice that I hadn’t taken the trouble to hide.
    “Rand, lesson number one: When living in the South, don’t make fun of the natives, they may get restless.”
    He lowered the helicopter slowly downward to rest near the paper towel X that was almost still in place. Only in two or three places had the paper pulled free of the Coke cans that were supposed to anchor it down.
    We sat in silence while the blades slowly finished their rotations and stopped. I saw Wayne and Donnie Ray start out to help me unload. The five nightlights on the property gave us adequate light.
    “I guess this means that we won’t have dinner together tonight. How about Friday, about six? We’ll get an early start and make Jacksonville in plenty of time for a little restaurant I discovered recently. You’ll love it.”
    “Not hungry.”
    He seemed to act as if I had a couple of loose screws for refusing to go along with his plans. I’d have to state it plainer.
    “I don’t think so, Rand. At least not in this lifetime. Thanks for the ride home.”
    I scrambled over Ivanhoe, hopped out, and Ivanhoe obliged by jumping out promptly when I tugged lightly on his leash. If I’d spent time trying to get him out of the copter, it would have weakened my exit line.
    I greeted the boys. I gave Ivanhoe’s leash to Wayne, and signed that he had performed really well and was now to be called Superdog by all. I strode off with confidence, knowing that Rand would follow me and try to set things right between us.
    I stopped on the back porch and greeted Bobby Lee, where he had patiently waited for my return. He followed me into my office, and I began hugging him and talking sweet talk, listening for Rand’s knock on the door.
    When the knock came, I yelled “Come in,” but it was Jasmine who stuck her head around the door.
    “Are you alone?”
    “So far. Come in, did you see Rand out there?”
    “If you mean a man, no. However, there is still a helicopter sitting out there. Is he the pilot?”
    “Yes. Come on in, I want you to meet him. He’ll be along in a minute. Say hello and good-bye in less than three minutes. We’ve just had our first spat.”
    “Why am I not surprised,” she said with a grin, entering and sitting in a rocker. “Is he nice?”
    “He’s quite a hunk. About nice—”
    We both turned our faces to the ceiling when the helicopter’s motor broke the silence with a
whoop-whoop
so ear-splitting that he seemed to be landing on the roof. We listened for a long ten seconds and then heard him depart, the sound diminishing and fading into the night.
    “As I was saying, he’s a mean-minded, antisocialist, Southern-knocking Yankee, and y’all won’t be meeting him.”
    Jasmine winced. “Is he still a hunk?”
    “Oh yes. On a scale of ten, he’s a nine in anatomy, and a minus one in personality. Want a beer?”
    “Have you eaten?”
    “Nope, but I have to shower first. And call Donnie Ray.”
    “How’s this? You take a hot soak. Your muscles will thank you tomorrow. I’ll bring you a cold beer, and call Donnie Ray for you, and nuke you a personal pan pizza. This is offered only if you promise to relate word for word the entire afternoon.”
    “Deal. Ask Donnie Ray if our fearless pilot just sat like a lump, took a whiz, or said anything before he departed.”
    “Everything but the whiz.”
    “Missy Nice Nice,” I taunted as I left to take my bath.
    Soaking in lavender-scented bath salts, and sipping a cold one, is to