Checking Inn by Emily Harper Read Free Book Online Page A

  I think I can manage to get one dog into a house.
    Right, I can do this.  I took the course.  I read the “Bringing Out The True Potential In Your Canine” book.  Twice.  It’s all about authority.
    “Maggie,” I say and feel a surge of encouragement when she turns to look at me.  “Here,” I point to the spot beside me.
    The damn dog just blinks.
    “Maggie,” I say in a more threatening tone.  “Here!”
    She yawns and moves Detective Gable’s hand with her head, asking him to pet her.
    “Right,” I say, stepping towards her while attempting to grab her collar.
    She takes this as an indication that our previous game is back on and leaps away, doing a mad dash to the tree and back.  I want to scream in frustration but instead force a laugh in the Detective’s direction.  “It’s a game we play.  It’s stupid really,” I say.
    Honestly, this dog is going to be the death of me.
    “Looks like fun,” he says grinning from the dog to me.  “Though we really should get back to the Inn.”
    “Right, of course,” I say, looking around for inspiration.  I take a deep breath and pick up a stick.  It’s my last hope.  “Maggie, what’s this?”
    I wiggle the stick and she follows it with her eyes.
    “Do you want the stick?” I say, and her tail wags energetically, which I take as a yes.    “Okay, come get it!”
    I run towards the front door and can hear her excited feet running behind me.    I race up the steps, two at a time, and reach for the doorknob– turning it while putting my full force into opening the door.    The door, however, doesn’t budge, and I rebound off it like a yoyo, falling into a heap on the front steps. 
    Putting my hands to the ground, I gently try taking my weight off my rear end.    I get a slobbery kiss on my face before Maggie takes the stick out of my hand, and runs back to the front yard.
    I can hear the roaring laughter coming from Detective Gable and turn to see him bent over petting the dog. He ruffles the top of her head before coming up the walkway, up the front steps, and opening my front door.
    “Here,” he commands, and Maggie joyfully prances over to him and through the doorway to sit in the front hallway, looking at him in wonderment. 
    “You should probably lock this,” he says as he closes the door and walks back down the path.
    My injured pride, and bottom end, choose not to reply to his advice as I get up off the floor and lock the door.
    I dust off the specks of dirt from my clipboard, before coming around the passenger side of the black SUV. 
    Detective Gable is already sitting behind the steering wheel, so I open my own door.    I stop and stare at the interior of his car.    It is   full   of junk.    There are papers scattered all over the floor. Coffee cups fill every cup holder in sight.    His back seat is piled with clothes and boxes of files.    I can’t even bring myself to picture the trunk.
    “You know, I think I’ll just walk,” I say.
    “It will be easier if we go together.    Don’t you think you should be there when I check in?    In case the employees have any questions?” he asks, raising one of his eyebrows.
    In theory, he’s right.    But in actuality, I am not sure I can get into the car no matter how logical his arguments are.
    “Is there a problem?” he asks, probably because I continue to hesitate.
    I take a deep breath and clutch my clipboard tightly to my chest.    This is the longest day of my life.
    Carefully getting in so my feet don’t trample on any of the papers on the floor, I put my seatbelt on and sit up straight with my elbows tucked in.
    “The department is willing to reimburse you for the room,” he says as he pulls out of the driveway.
    “That’s not necessary, Detective Gable,” I say and fight to not lean to the side when the car turns.
    “You should call me Ben,” he says while running a yellow light at the end of the street.    “It would kind of