Chapter Six
“Now, this is the life.” Lydia crossed her ankles, the toe of her wedge sandal knocking into Izzy’s jaw, and Izzy smacked it away.
“When you’re not kicking me in the face.”
“Sorry about that.” Lydia didn’t sound sorry. She sounded five seconds away from taking a nap. And who could blame her? Izzy and her friend were lying head to toe on the biggest hammock known to man, a soft breeze gliding over their skin as the sun warmed them. It was a beautiful afternoon, and the gentle sway of the cloth hammock was making Izzy’s eyelids feel like they were weighted with concrete.
“We shouldn’t be doing this.” Izzy yawned and toed off her pumps, hearing them plop softly to the lawn below.
“You don’t send me a picture of this super-sweet backyard setup for an empty house you’re selling and not expect me to show up.” Lydia lifted the stemless wineglass off the small belly she was always trying to diet away. She wasn’t fat, but she was big: big hair, big boobs and butt, bigger personality. There wasn’t a fad diet that she didn’t try, but thankfully, her willpower lasted no more than three days before she was back to chocolate and cheese. Lydia swirled a pale white wine in her glass. “You know the rules.”
“That’s a really weird rule.” Izzy raised her own glass and took a sip of the crisp Riesling. When Lydia had crashed the preparations for Izzy’s showing this Saturday, bottle of wine in hand, she’d said that a swing in the hammock was definitely paired with a white.
“How much are you listing this place for?”
“Two fifty,” Izzy said. The owner had wanted three hundred thousand, but Izzy had advised a lower asking price. There was a crack in the foundation, and the roof would need replacing within five years. The house was like a movie star after plastic surgery; it looked great on the outside, but inside it was aging. But swinging lazily in the drop-dead gorgeous backyard, she hoped she hadn’t undervalued it. Sometimes a stunning exterior was enough to make the sale.
Leaning over the side of the hammock, Lydia plucked up the half-full bottle and poured herself another glass.
Izzy held on to the edge of the hammock and made sure she didn’t topple off it as it swayed. The chains holding them up in the metal frame creaked loudly.
“So,” Lydia said, “Ana’s been talking about this Brad guy a lot. And a bouquet of puppies. But I’m more interested in the man. Is he hot?”
Izzy thought about his tousled dark-blond hair. His wide chest and strong arms. The way his hazel eyes were always crinkling with humor. “Nope. Not attractive at all.”
Lydia squealed, and wine sloshed over the rim of her glass. The bunch of grapes printed on her burgundy T-shirt with the Tannert Winery logo got wet and stuck to her breast. “You lie! I know your lying voice.”
Izzy tried to jackknife up, got sucked back into the cradle of the hammock, and contented herself with an awkward curl. She swiped the bottle of wine from her friend and poured herself another couple of inches. She rested the bottle and glass on her stomach. “I don’t have a lying voice,” she grumbled.
“Yes, you do. It’s the same voice you use on your clients when they aren’t doing what you want.”
Hell, that was a disconcerting thought. Especially as she never lied to her clients. Just…persuaded them to see her point of view when they were being stubborn.
“Nevertheless,” Izzy said, and yeah, she could hear the cloying note in her voice that time, “Bradley Cohen isn’t the man for you. He’s impulsive and careless, and the two of you together would be a menace to Crook County.”
That wedge sandal knocked into her again, intentionally this time. “I wasn’t thinking about for me. Although if you don’t want him, I’ll call dibs. A hot guy who helps dogs?” She fanned herself with her hand. “Oh, Nellie.”
Lydia and Brad could actually make a good couple. Both fun-loving, high-spirited individuals with a core of kindness. Both more interested in the moment than growing their 401(k)s. Yes, Lydia was a partner in a winery—Izzy took a sip of the Riesling and admitted it was a pretty damn good winery for Michigan—but she didn’t seem interested in growing the business. She was content to accept the status quo, while Izzy was always striving for more.
If Lydia ever had kids, then she’d understand better what drove Izzy.
The sandal nudge again. Izzy was starting to hate wedge sandals. “So, do you want this Brad or can I go for him?” Lydia asked.
Izzy’s stomach coiled tight as a spring. “He’s free game.”
Lydia laughed. “It’s a good thing you are a bad liar, or I would have poached on your turf and you’d hate me.”
“Not feeling all that friendly to you right now,” Izzy muttered. “And I’m not lying. I’m not interested. I just don’t think he’s right for you.”
Lydia nodded, her hair coming free from her loose topknot. “Yeah, it sounds like he needs someone more grounded. Someone to talk sense into him while he can talk some fun into her. A yin-and-yang type of situation.”
Izzy rolled her eyes. “You’re as transparent as this Riesling.”
Lydia shrugged. “I’m just saying you’ve got to let loose and have a little fun once in a while. If Brad’s the man who can show you a good time, great. If not, it’s time you started looking for someone who can.”
“I’m having fun now,” Izzy defended herself. “I should be back at work after setting up the house. But I’m kicking it out here with my homegirl. Being completely irresponsible.”
Lydia groaned. “First of all, don’t say homegirl. You sound like one of those sad parents trying to talk hip to their kids. Secondly, if this is your idea of irresponsible…”
“Fine. What about you?” Izzy toed her friend’s shoulder, eager to get off the topic of her own love life. The nonexistent one. Which was how she wanted it. “Any hot new dating prospects?”
“Well, there’s Jeremiah, the butcher. He offered to take me hunting. And Joe Rodriguez, who owns Grains and Grapes in Pineville, asked me out.”
Izzy did a little more of her own toe kicking. “Ooh, that’s a good place. Date him and maybe he’ll comp us free drinks.”
“I think he only wants to sweet-talk a good deal on Tannert wine.” Tucking a hand behind her head, Lydia raised an eyebrow. “I ran into Tariq at the Gas and Shop. He’s a couple years younger than me, but he is awfully yummy. Do you know if he’s seeing anyone?”
“No. Nada. Uh-uh.” Izzy put both the bottle and her glass down on the lawn and pulled herself up. “Tariq is my archenemy, and besties don’t date archenemies. That is a rule.”
“Jeesh, another rule.” Lydia swatted at a fly buzzing around her head. “And who has archenemies? He’s only giving you a little competition.”
“He’s a vile little worm who hates me and tries to sabotage me every chance he gets.”
Lydia shook her head. “Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll keep my hands off your Lex Luthor.”
“Thank you.” Izzy settled back down. “I notice you didn’t mention Kevin in your list of potentials.”
“Kevin? Kevin! He’s like a brother to me,” Lydia said. “A boring older brother. I want zip in my relationships, and for all of Kevin’s good qualities, he doesn’t have zip.”
Izzy thought Kevin could have plenty of zip, for the right woman. And the way the co-owner of Tannert Winery looked at his business partner when Lydia’s back was turned, he clearly thought she was his right woman. But Lydia wanted some mythical dream man, a mogul with an eight-pack who’d take her skydiving from his private plane on their way to Paris. She wanted a fantasy and blinded herself to the good man in front of her.
Izzy sighed. She knew all about wanting a fantasy guy. But eventually a person had to grow up and realize that fantasies didn’t exist. And men, even good men, eventually left and looked for greener pastures. It was in their nature.
Perhaps she shouldn’t encourage Lydia when it came to Kevin. Why set her up for something that was likely to fail?
Her phone rang, and Izzy reached into her blazer pocket and pulled it out. She saw the number and a ping of excitement zipped down her spine. She fluttered a hand at Lydia. “Shush. This could be important.”
Ignoring Lydia’s narrowed eyes, she hit Answer. “Hello, Mrs. Gianapolis. How are you this afternoon?”
The older woman buzzed in her ear, and Izzy’s heart pounded faster with each word.
“Of course I can meet you. Yes, your office? I know where it is. I’ll see you in a little bit.” She ended the call and punched her fist into the air. “Yes!”
“What’s up?”
“That was an investor I sent a big sales proposal to. She’s interested and wants to talk it over.” Izzy tried swinging her legs to one side of the hammock and a button on her blazer got caught in the mesh. She twisted the other way, levering her torso up. The weight in the hammock shifted, the fabric rolled, and the blue sky flashed across her vision as she and Lydia flipped ass over teakettle.
She landed facedown in the grass.
“Well, that was graceful,” Lydia said, pushing up into a seated position. She wiped at the wine that had spilled again across the chest of her T-shirt.
“Sorry!” Izzy found her pumps, the wine bottle, and the glasses and clambered to her feet. “Come on, I have to lock up.”
“I guess our relaxing afternoon is over.”
“You bet your ass. This commission could fully fund Ana’s college tuition. Would let me afford a tutor to help her with her reading issues.” Dollar signs danced in her head, and Izzy let herself dream for just a moment what all that money would mean to her life. To hers and Ana’s security. “Come on.” She prodded her friend across the lawn and brushed grass off Lydia’s and her clothes before entering the living room through the double French doors. She snatched her purse from the hallway console table and locked up after them. “Thanks for the wine. I’ll see you Saturday at Ana’s game?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” Lydia gave her a quick hug and strolled to her yellow VW bug. “Do you need me to pick her up after practice today?”
“No, I’ll get her, but thanks.” Izzy raced to her SUV. With a wave out her window, she pulled a U-turn on the street and sped to Mrs. Gianapolis’s office.
The woman owned three strip malls in the area and had recently purchased a three-story office complex in Marysville, which was where Izzy was headed. If Mrs. Gianapolis wanted to buy Burker’s lots, that could be good news for the current tenants. She might keep the strip malls in place.
Mrs. Gianapolis had an office for her investment company in the bottom floor of her building. Izzy hurried across the tiled lobby and pushed open the glass doors with “A. G. Properties” stenciled across the front. A polished receptionist greeted her.
“Hi, I’m Izzy Lopez. I have an appointment to see Mrs. Gianapolis.”
The young man nodded and made a phone call. Then he pointed down the hallway to the right. “It’s the second door on the left.”
She thanked him, smoothed a hand down the front of her blazer, and marched to the office, purse slung over one shoulder and a leather portfolio in her hands. Pasting on a professional smile, she stepped through.
A fireplug of a woman looked up from her computer screen and stuck out a hand. She didn’t stand. “Mrs. Lopez? Thank you for coming to meet me.”
“Of course.” The grip was cold, dry, and Izzy worried that flakes of the woman’s skin would rub off in her hand. She must have been in her sixties, but her face looked at least a decade younger. Either she took care of her olive skin, or she had a very good plastic surgeon’s number. But the skin on the older woman’s hands was covered in liver spots. She wore jeans, a bulky sweater much too warm for the weather, and a “don’t mess with me” attitude.
Izzy was impressed and cowed all at once but didn’t let either show. She sat across from her and crossed her legs. “You have a good eye. I just sent out the property details and already have some interest.” Mrs. Gianapolis was the first to show interest, but that qualified. “I think the lots are going to go fast. If the owner decides to sell. He’s still up in the air on that.”
The woman leaned back and laced her fingers together over her broad stomach. “I don’t want to get in a bidding war. If you have a lot of other offers, I’ll probably back off.”
“Interest but no firm offers as yet.” Izzy recrossed her legs and relaxed back into the seat, trying to look more confident than she felt. “Now, what questions can I answer for you?”
“You provided rent rolls for each of the tenants for the past ten years, and they seem rather soft. Do you have any comparables for similar properties nearby?”
Izzy unzipped her portfolio and dug through her papers. She pulled a stapled packet of four pages out. “Here’s a list of current comps and what I think you can get at the property. I think you’re right; the rents are soft. There’s room for a new owner to increase the profits.” Her conscience twinged at that. Brad didn’t have room in his budget for a rent hike. But she only spoke the truth. He wasn’t paying market rate, and pretty soon he’d have to. It wasn’t her fault if he wasn’t prepared.
Lifting a pair of glasses from the chain around her neck, Mrs. Gianapolis perched them on the end of her nose and scanned the documents. “And why are the rents below what the neighbors are getting? Is there something structurally wrong with the properties?”
“No, the buildings are twenty-eight years old and showing a bit of wear and tear, but nothing of consequence.” Izzy bobbed her foot up and down. “The owner admits he hasn’t been as aggressive about keeping rents raised to match inflation as he should have been. And he didn’t have a management company to advise him.”
“I see.” She flipped a page. “Are there any pictures of the property available?”
“Not until the owner decides to sell.” The pictures Izzy had taken were in the marketing material she’d prepare when, or if, Burker finally decided to list the lots. But the shots would put anyone the least bit familiar with the area on notice of which property was under discussion. “When I get a letter of intent from an interested buyer with a number my client finds agreeable, and he decides to sell, then we can proceed with a tour of the property.”
“Hmm.” Settling deeper into her chair, Mrs. Gianapolis ran her finger down the margin of the paper. “I don’t like all this secrecy. Whoever the owner is, this seems like a silly way to do business.”
“He’s worried about losing his tenants if they think he’s going to sell. Surely a prospective new owner can appreciate his caution.”
“Can’t say that I do.” Mrs. Gianapolis tipped her head, a dark curl brushing her shoulder. “The way I see it, you rent a property for a fair rate, provide decent accommodations, and renters will come. No need for secrecy.”
Izzy agreed. And she’d tried to bring Bob around to her way of thinking. Many, many times. But the streak of paranoia running though his bones flowed deep. When he wasn’t worrying about the government confiscating his property, he was nattering on about his tenants abandoning ship and leaving him with empty buildings, thereby devaluing the investment properties. Izzy had to work with what she had. And what she had was a pain-in-the-ass client with some sweet lots that could earn her an even sweeter commission. So she played the hand she was dealt.
“The property specifics are all laid out in the proposal. You are getting the full picture even without the photos.” Izzy bobbed her foot, noticed what she was doing, and stilled. “And that picture is two blocks of prime investment property.”
“Hmm.” Mrs. Gianapolis didn’t look convinced. “Any Superfund sites or environmental factors that require remediation?”
“No, and I would have included that in the proposal.” The back of Izzy’s neck tensed. She’d never done business with Mrs. Gianapolis before, so the woman had no way of knowing that Izzy was a straight shooter. But still, the small insult burrowed under her skin.
“That’s good.” Mrs. Gianapolis laid the papers down on her desk, and looked at Izzy. Unblinking.
Izzy shifted her weight. “Are you interested in keeping the property as retail sites?”
“Heavens no.” She shook her head. “The money is drying up in strip malls. Industrial space is what I’m looking for.”
Izzy’s heart sank. That would be a kick in the gut for all those tenants. One in particular. She set her shoulders. Not her concern. “Based on what you know, what price—”
Her phone rang, the wind chimes tone not sounding soothing at all under the irritated gaze of Mrs. Gianapolis.
She pulled it out to silence it. “As I said, we want…” The number of Ana’s soccer coach was on the display, and Izzy’s stomach rolled. There were a lot of ways a little girl could get hurt at practice. “I’m sorry, I have to take this.” Without waiting for a response, she slipped into the hall and answered.
“Mr. Gallagher, is something wrong? Is Ana hurt?”
“I don’t know if she’s hurt. She never showed up for practice.”
“What?” Izzy checked her watch. Ana should have gotten out of school forty-five minutes ago. The soccer field was only three blocks away, and Ana made that walk two times a week, every Tuesday and Thursday, for her practices after school. It wasn’t a walk she could get lost on. The rolling in her stomach turned to pitching waves.
“I’ve already called the school,” Mr. Gallagher said. “She was there for her last class.”
“Okay.” Izzy pinched her forehead between her thumb and her fingers, felt blood pounding beneath her temples. “Okay. Let me know if she shows up. I’ll go look for her.”
“Will do. And keep me informed on your end.”
Izzy shoved the phone in her pocket and hurried into the office. She gathered up her portfolio and purse. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. We’ll have to reschedule if you have more questions.”
“But I have questions now.” The woman stood and rested her hands on her hips. “This is quite unprofessional of you.”
“I know, but it can’t be helped. I’ll call you to set up another time.” She spun and hurried for the door.
“Mrs. Lopez, if you want this sale I’d advise you not…”
But Izzy was already gone. She ran for her car, throwing her purse and portfolio into the passenger seat and pulling out of her spot, tires squealing.
Ana had probably forgotten she had practice and taken the bus home. She’d never forgotten before, but there was a first time for everything, right?
The wireless connection of her SUV finally synced up with her phone, and she called home. No answer. She called again. Nothing. She called her neighbors. They hadn’t seen Ana. She went through a list of Ana’s friends. None of those parents had seen her daughter. By the time she hit her driveway, Izzy was so tense she had a hard time uncurling her body to get out of the car. Why hadn’t she bought her daughter a cell phone? In her quest not to spoil Ana, she had traded away her daughter’s safety. A quick call would have cleared this up. And the GPS locator in the phone, a tracking device on her kid that twenty minutes ago she would have found creepy, now seemed like the most sensible of solutions.
She flung open the front door. “Ana!” No backpack in the entrance hall for her to trip over. No sound of the TV from the living room. “Ana!” She raced upstairs to her daughter’s bedroom. Empty.
Her body began to shake. She took a deep breath. Another. Ana was going to be fine. Izzy would get back in her car and drive every street between her school and home. She tripped on a stair, and only her tight grip on the banister kept her from tumbling down. She reached the bottom in one piece and stalked to the front door, pulling her keys out of the doorknob. Izzy got back in her car and planned the grid pattern that she’d drive to search the streets for her daughter. Forcing calm, she started the ignition and backed out of the driveway. And made one more call. To the police.
* * * *
“I don’t think you’re supposed to do that.”
Brad closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Patience, he told himself. Pretend Dax was just a big dog who needed a lot of training. Nothing to get irritated over.
Looking back at his computer, Brad moved the box on the screen and the text turned bright pink. “What the hell?”
“Yeah, that doesn’t look good.” Dax, their new volunteer, or slave labor, as the guy had cheerfully told him and Gabe when he’d reported in for his community service hours, leaned over his shoulder and smacked his gum.
“Do you mind?” Brad gritted out. He changed the text back to white and moved to save the changes to the Forever Friends website.
“Dude, if you hit save, that announcement is going to show up on all your pages, not just the events page.”
A pulse pounded behind his eye. “I’ve only added it to this page, so it will only show up on this page.” Brad had set a date for the award banquet, called the local papers to run an announcement, and was now updating his website. It should have been easy. But the damn page had frozen twice, deleting his updates before he’d saved. Gabe had taken off after Dax’s tenth “dude,’” leaving Brad to answer the phones or else risk Dax scaring any potential dog adopters away with his utter lack of knowledge. And all the dogs had chosen today to throw attitude with nonstop barking that was driving him out of his ever-lovin’ mind.
Once he hit Save, at least one more chore would be done. One Save and Publish click later, and he sat back in his chair, satisfied. “There.”
Dax leaned around his shoulder and commandeered the mouse. He went to the Forever Friends website, and the damn announcement was on the front page, a random block of text hovering over a testimonial. Dax clicked on the About Us tab and Contact tab, and that damn block of text was on every one of them. “See?”
Brad’s jaw ached. “Do you have anything useful to contribute besides telling me what I’m doing wrong? Like how to get this friggin’ thing to work?”
“Nope. Computers aren’t my jam. I know just enough to be dangerous.”
“What is your jam?” Brad asked, making finger quotes around the last word. “Besides scaling courthouse walls. You an adrenaline junkie?”
Judge Nichols had told Brad what Dax had been arrested for when he’d hand-delivered him to the shelter. The ass had free-climbed the two-story brick courthouse carrying a flag and a roll of duct tape.
“Anywhere in the outdoors, and anything that can take me there.” Dax clicked to another page. “And I didn’t climb the courthouse for a thrill.” A smile split his face. “Although it was fun. I did it on a dare. A buddy bet me I couldn’t plant a flag at the top like George Cass did in 1873.”
Brad gave him a look from the corner of his eye. “I don’t think our former mayor planted a pirate flag on the courthouse.”
“It was National Talk Like a Pirate Day.” He shrugged and peered at the computer screen. “I think your whole site is screwed.”
Brad snatched his mouse back, and the computer chose that moment to freeze. Again. “Goddammit!”
“You shouldn’t swear,” a cheerful, high-pitched voice said from the doorway. “The puppies might hear you.”
Brad’s head snapped up. “Ana?” He stood and knocked Dax aside. Striding to the girl, he leaned over her and peered down the hall. “Where’s your mom?”
She shrugged, and kept her shoulders up by her ears for a full five seconds. “Work, probably. I came to see the puppies.”
Brad ruffled her hair. “You did, did you? How’d you get here?”
“Walked.”
“You must really want to see those dogs.” Brad stretched, hearing his back crack in a couple of different spots. Perhaps what he needed was some playtime with puppies, too. He looked back at Dax. “You seem to know what you’re doing with the website. Fix it, will you?” Without waiting for a response, he herded the girl through the exam room and into the kennels. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad having a court-appointed lackey. If he and Gabe didn’t kill the guy, they could have some fun with it.
“It’s about time for the dogs to have their afternoon snack.” Brad pulled a treat bucket off the wall. “You want to help me?”
“Yeah.” Ana scooped a handful of biscuits out and cradled them to her belly. The dogs descended en masse, and she shrieked.
Sliding the handle of the bucket over his arm, Brad leaned down and put his arm around the girl. The dogs swarmed about his legs, yapping and pushing for a prime position. “Start tossing the biscuits out. Try to make sure each dog gets one.”
Stephanie, the yellow lab, got the first three cookies. Ana pointed her finger. “She’s sneaky.”
“Stephanie likes her cookies, that’s for sure.” Brad gently brushed the dog aside with his legs. “But we’ve got lots of treats, so keep doling them out.” They walked around the kennels, a trail of dogs following them as if they were the pied piper. Ana made sure each dog got a treat, even the one in the cage, breaking the biscuit in two and shoving the ends through the chain-link.
“Why’s he the only one locked up?” she asked.
“That’s Max Payne. He’s on a time-out.” The three-year-old husky had been found in a culvert with cigarette burns on half his body. He snapped at the other dogs, snarled at humans, but Gabe was working on that. If anyone could bring out a dog’s sweet side, it was Gabe.
“Is your mom going to come pick you up?” His spirits lifted at the thought.
Ana bent to give Stephanie a hug. “She doesn’t know I’m here.”
Uh-oh. Izzy didn’t seem like the kind of woman who’d take kindly to her daughter not being where she was supposed to be. Even though he had probably six inches on Izzy, if she went into mama grizzly mode, he’d be a little nervous.
“Dax! Could you come here, please.”
Dax poked his auburn head through the top half of the Dutch door. “You paged me?”
“Can you play with the dogs and Ana for a minute while I make a call?”
“Sweet. If it wasn’t for the fact that I’m losing money not working, this gig wouldn’t be half bad.” He swung open the bottom part of the door. “Hey, Ana. I’m Dax. S’up?” He jerked his chin and held up a hand for a high five.
She giggled and slapped his palm. “Hey. I came to visit the puppies my mom saved.”
“They’re napping in their basket.” Brad pointed to the corner where Vi and her babies rested. “They need lots of sleep, so play gently with them.”
Ana nodded and headed off to the corner. She dropped to her knees and carefully lifted the black-and-white pup into her arms.
Brad walked through the exam room, across the hall, and into his office. He tried to imprint that sweet look on Ana’s face into his memory. He had a feeling that Izzy’s expression when she came to collect her errant daughter wouldn’t be so cute.
He dialed her cell phone. After four rings, her harried voice came on the line. “Hello?”
“Hi, Izzy. It’s Brad. I—”
“I can’t talk right now. I’ll call you back.” She disconnected, and Brad pursed his lips.
He redialed.
“Look,” she said when she picked up. “Now is not a good—”
“Ana’s here.”
Brakes squealed, and he heard honking. Izzy cursed. “Hold on a sec.” A few moments passed. “Okay, I pulled over. Repeat that? Ana is there with you?”
“Yes.”
“At the shelter?”
“Yep.”
“And she’s all right?” Her voice wavered, and it finally dawned on Brad that she’d thought her daughter was missing.
“She’s fine,” he said, his voice going gentle. “Are you okay?”
Several juddering breaths came over the line before evening out. “I’m fine. Her soccer coach called, said she hadn’t shown up…”
“I was going to ask you to take it easy on her for walking over here, but I didn’t think how she might have scared you.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Now I’m rethinking my position. Maybe she deserves a little punishment.”
“Have no worries on that account,” Izzy said grimly. “A punishment will be forthcoming. I’ll be there in ten.”
She made it in eight. Izzy’s body was as rigid as rebar, her lips a white slash as she clicked down the hall to where he stood at the door to the exam room. “I’m sorry about this.” A muscle twitched in her jaw. “I’ll make sure it never happens again.”
He rested his hands on her shoulders, gave her a squeeze. “It’s okay, Izzy. She’s safe.”
She nodded, blinking rapidly.
Folding her into his arms, he held her close and rubbed her back. She stood stiff, not bending an inch until he repeated in her ear, “She’s safe.”
A hushed whimper escaped her lips, and finally, finally she sank against his body. She clutched the T-shirt at his sides and rested her forehead against his chest. “You don’t want to know all the horrible scenarios that were running through my head.”
“I can imagine.” The tri-cities were low-crime areas, but still. The world could be one screwed-up place. Having a child must mean constant worry.
Izzy stepped back and smoothed her hands over the cotton covering his chest before dropping them to her sides. The motion wasn’t meant as anything more than a simple thank you, an acknowledgment that she was once again the steady, put-together Izzy he knew and that his small act of comfort had helped get her there. But it meant more to Brad. It was the first contact that she’d initiated. The first sign that maybe he was making a dent in her armor.
“Well, where is my little flight risk?” she asked. “In with the dogs?”
He nodded.
Pivoting on her heel, she strode through the exam room. That flicker of softness in her face was gone, replaced by a look a drill sergeant would be proud of. Little Ana was in for a serious reckoning.
He followed her into the kennels, closing the bottom half of the door behind him. Vi had her head in the girl’s lap, and Dax was sitting next to them, a puppy in each hand. Ana looked up at them, delighted. “Look, Mom! She’s eating from my hand.”
“Ana Noemi Lopez.” Izzy fisted her hands on her hips. “What the devil do you think you were doing by skipping soccer practice and coming here?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Do you know how much trouble you’re in? All the trouble you’ve caused?”
Ana’s lower lip quivered.
Dax slid his butt on the concrete to sit closer to Ana. He didn’t touch her but displayed his solidarity with her all the same.
Izzy advanced a step. “When we get home, we are going to have a conversation about what you can and can’t do. Number one, you can’t decide not to go to practice without telling me. Do you have any idea how worried I was when Mr. Gallagher called and said you were missing?”
“I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.” Tears rolled down Ana’s face. “I didn’t think he would notice I wasn’t there. And I was going to walk home before you got back. I didn’t think you’d know I was even gone.”
“You didn’t think, that’s for sure!”
Brad stepped forward, his chest tight, and squeezed her shoulder. He knew Ana deserved a dressing-down, but her tears were killing him. Dax’s clenched lips said he felt the same way. Maybe it was a guy thing, not being able to watch a little girl cry.
Izzy glanced back at him, and hissed out a breath. Her shoulder softened from rock hard to only semi-tense beneath his hand. “Okay, get your things together and we’ll discuss this at home.”
Ana nodded, her face a picture of misery, and hiccupped.
Dax rubbed her back. “Vi hasn’t been eating much, and Ana is the first person she’s taken a treat from. Can she feed her a couple more?”
Brad narrowed his eyes. For someone who’d only been working at Forever Friends a day, their new volunteer was acting like he knew an awful lot about their dogs. Even if he was right about Vi, Izzy wasn’t going to appreciate the interference. In fact, any second now, she was going to tear—
“Five more minutes.” Izzy walked to the group and dropped to her knees beside Vi. Plopping down onto her thigh and hip, she tucked her heels up under her. She gave a quick tug to Ana’s ponytail, then stroked Vi’s back. The dog tolerated it but didn’t seem impressed with the effort.
She and Ana fed Vi two more biscuits. The black-and-white pup, whom Ana had named Jasmine for some god-awful reason, crawled to his mom and chewed on her ear. Izzy scooped him up and cradled him under her chin.
Brad widened his stance and crossed his arms over his chest. A smile tugged at his lips. Izzy might not know it, but she’d just sealed her fate. She was now, and forever more, a dog person. And Vi and Jasmine were homeless no longer.
Brad joined them on the ground, sitting cross-legged. “You finish the website yet?” he asked Dax.
The man sent him a sour look but pushed to his feet. He placed one of his puppies back in the basket but kept ahold of the other one. The pup lay over Dax’s forearm like a wet towel, his little legs hanging down on either side, his head sacked out on Dax’s wrist. “This guy is going to keep me company,” he said, and walked out of the kennels.
“How often do you have practice, Ana?” An idea had popped into Brad’s head, and he liked to run with his ideas.
“Tuesday and Thursday. Games are Saturdays.” She swiped the back of her hand under her nose.
“What do you do after school the rest of the days?”
She shrugged. “Sometimes Aunt Lydia picks me up and takes me to her winery. Or I take the bus home.”
“We have some nice neighbors who keep an eye out for her.” Izzy smoothed a lock of hair behind Ana’s ear.
Brad glanced at Izzy, hoping to gauge her reaction. “Well, how about you come here some days after school? We’re always looking for volunteers to play with the dogs and walk them.” It seemed the perfect idea. Ana would love it. She’d be watched over. And Izzy’s gratitude could only mean good things for him. Fun, naughty things.
Except she didn’t look grateful. She pressed her lips together and breathed heavily through her nose. It was a struggle, but Brad kept his gaze above her heaving chest. She was delightfully jiggly in certain places, and heavy breathing looked good on her.
“Uh, problem with that idea?” he asked Izzy.
“Can I, Mom? Please, please, pul-leeease!”
“What about your homework?” Izzy asked.
Hanging her head, Ana tugged on a loose bit of rubber on the sole of her sneaker. “I need your help on that stuff anyway. You know I’m no good at reading. I don’t get much done before you get home.”
Brad’s heart cracked open a little. “I don’t like to toot my own horn, but I’m a whiz at math and science. Former engineer and all.” He leaned forward and scratched Vi’s chin. “And I’ve even been known to read a book or two. When it’s not busy here, I can help Ana with some of her homework.”
Cradling Jasmine with one hand, Izzy pushed herself up. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
Brad followed her across the room. Stephanie leaned into his thigh, and he gave her a good chest rub. “You don’t like the idea?”
“You’re running a business here.” Izzy shook her head. “Not a daycare. Ana will be in your way.”
“I was serious about needing volunteers. We just got Dax, but we can always use another dog walker. It’ll be great.”
“You don’t know that.” Jasmine wriggled in her hands, and Izzy stroked his fur. “It’s a crazy idea.”
“A fun idea.”
“Impulsive.” She slid a sideways glance at her daughter, and bit her lip.
Brad stepped in close. “Look, if it doesn’t work out, I’ll let you know. No harm, no foul. But it’s something she could put on her college applications, right? She volunteered at a dog shelter.”
Izzy raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching. “You did not just drop the college application card. She’s nine.”
“Never too early to think about it.” If he knew Izzy at all, he assumed she’d been thinking about Ana’s education since her birth. “Come on.” He nudged her shoulder with his. “What’s the worst that can happen?”
“You’re like the little red devil on my shoulder.” She blew out a breath. “Fine. She can come here. But I need to give you something in return. Childcare is expensive, and you can’t just give it away.” Softly clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth, she stared into the distance, then nodded once. “How about I help you with your marketing? With the awards banquet, and with a campaign going forward? That’s a big part of my job. Not to toot my own horn or anything,” she said dryly, throwing his words back at him.
Brad chuckled. “That would be great. But I had something else in mind if you’re determined to pay me back.”
“I’ll bet you do,” she muttered.
His grin widened. “You have a dirty mind, Isabelle Lopez. But you’re wrong.” Sort of. Of course he wanted her. But he wouldn’t trade for it. Turning her by the shoulders, he faced her toward her daughter and Vi. “What I want is something I think you’d secretly like, too.” He rested his chin on her shoulder. “See how happy your daughter is with Vi? And Vi needs a home. At her age, she could be stuck at the shelter for a very long time. With no one to love her. No babies to take care of. No one for her to love.”
“That’s low.” She cocked her head to the side and slightly jutted her chin. A sure sign of annoyance, but as it exposed more of her smooth neck to his view, Brad didn’t mind all that much.
He brought his nose close to her throat, close enough to feel the heat rolling off her skin. She still smelled of flowers, but there was also a hint of something citrus. “Give her a chance and she’ll be your best friend,” he said in a low voice. Time to turn the screws, for a good cause, of course. “And she’ll be someone to watch over Ana when you can’t be there. Teach her responsibility and compassion.”
“You’re evil.” Izzy turned her head, and the hair twisted into a neat little updo brushed across his jaw.
He stepped closer, fitting his front to her back. Skimming his hand down her arm, he rested it on her hip and squeezed.
“Does evil win this time?” There were so many things he wanted to talk this woman into. And out of. But a dog was a good first step. Vi would be good for Izzy, and Izzy for Vi.
“Yes, damn you. I’ll take the stupid dog home.” She turned, and her breasts brushed his chest. Her eyes flared, and she quick-stepped back. She held up Jasmine, as a barrier or something else, Brad didn’t know. “And I’m taking this one, too. She can’t have all her puppies taken away from her.”
Brad valiantly tried to hide his grin. Really, he did. But it was no use. He hooked his elbow around Izzy’s neck and tugged her toward her daughter. “You’re such a softie. I knew it. I can’t wait to see Ana’s face when you tell her.”
“If you have any earplugs, you should put them in.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Now, about this marketing offer…”
He completely deserved the elbow she planted in his ribs.