Chapter Six
When Chloe wasn’t sure of her next move, she did the one thing that allowed her to clear her head. She cleaned. Hard.
And there was plenty to do in Rose Dixon’s two-bedroom bungalow on the edge of Bushrod Square. The house was what people liked to call vintage, or charming, or quaint.
Chloe could see that, but she thought it was a little more in the “grimy” camp.
Morning sun poured into the kitchen the day after her advisory committee victory, highlighting the cracks in the linoleum, streaks on the windows, and some bits of dirt gathered in the corners.
No one would call this house dirty, unless they were…crazy.
Which she was not. Merely safe and clean and organized.
With her hair pulled back in a ponytail, Formula 409 in one hand and a roll of paper towels in the other, she started in the kitchen, soothing herself by scrubbing, rubbing, spraying, and scouring. The whole time, the events of the day before played through her mind.
Shane had been true to his word, and the next vote had gone her way, with no abstaining. There’d been some grumbling from the no’s—and he was right about who they were—but the meeting had broken up after scheduling a follow-up in a week to review what she had ready to take to the town council.
During that time, she’d work on a new version of her presentation, honing her ideas to the very best ones. She’d gotten some input from Blanche and a few other committee members, including architect Andi Rivers, who had some terrific ideas. In fact, she and Andi made plans to have dinner tonight to talk about them.
But not everyone had shown the love for Better Bark.
“You have your work cut out for you, young lady,” the undertaker had said with a subtly ominous tone in his voice.
“Once this is public, you can expect the editorial board of the Banner to oppose the idea,” Ned the Editor, as she’d come to think of him, had warned.
The librarian, Nellie, and Jeannie, the fiery spa owner, stuck close together and left in silence.
Since then, Chloe had visited the grocery store to stock up on cleaning supplies and food. And had reorganized Rose’s pantry, which she hoped didn’t upset the woman. But it had been a hot mess. So had her utensil drawer.
She’d found enough cans of dog food in the pantry to know the homeowner must have had a dog, so if she did end up taking the dog Shane had talked about, it probably wouldn’t be frowned upon by the woman who lived here.
And that thought, like so many others, brought her thoughts back to Shane. He said he’d be in touch, and that was the last she’d heard from him or…a dog named Daisy.
She let out a sigh at the possibility. She agreed that having a dog would show she practiced what she preached. But that’s not why she was seriously considering the idea.
A dog was in the category of “never, ever” in Chloe’s life. And every time she ran smack into one of those walls, she had to suck it up and kick it down.
Otherwise, she’d never be…normal.
Speaking of which, she needed to stop cleaning now.
She opened the cabinet under the sink to put the 409 away, and something scurried in the dark. Chloe gasped, threw the doors closed, and practically fell on her backside scrambling away.
“Oh my God.” She stood up, horrified. “Oh my God, what was that? What was that?”
It was a mouse, and she knew it. Instantly, her whole being itched. She spun around in a full circle, clueless what to do. She had a mouse? Mice? Her hand still pressed to her lips, she backed out of the kitchen, into the living room, toward the front door, and yanked it open to get air and—
“Shane!”
He was climbing out of a pickup truck, a blue baseball cap and sunglasses covering much of his face, but she recognized the body. There was every inch of muscle and man she’d been thinking about…before the mouse.
“Are you okay?” He slammed the driver’s door and took a few steps closer, tipping the brim of the hat a little.
“Mouse,” she managed, shaking off the initial shock of the living creature in her kitchen as she handled the impact of this living creature in her driveway. He wore a dark bluish-purple T-shirt, shorts, and sneakers. Some whiskers created a shadow on hollow cheeks. He was all Saturday sexy and casual and…think, Chloe. “I have a mouse.”
“Did you name it?”
“Please don’t joke. It’s under the sink. It needs to die.” When his eyes flashed, she added, “Or live somewhere else.”
He reached for the hand that held the 409. “Interesting weapon.”
“I was cleaning.”
“Shocker.” He gave the slightest whisper of a smile and nodded to the house. “Let me look.”
“Okay, but if there’s one, are there more?”
“Maybe. We’ll set traps.”
She sucked in a breath. “In my kitchen?”
“Come on.” He put a hand on her shoulder, but she steadfastly refused to move.
“I can’t go back in there. I can never go in there again. I’ll have to move. Maybe out of state.”
He laughed and nudged her some more. “Another reason for you to have Daisy here. She’s a terrier, and they were born to do one thing and one thing only: catch rodents. Of course, she might bring it to you and expect a reward.”
This wasn’t happening. Chloe pressed both hands to her mouth and literally held back a roiling stomach. “She eats them?”
“Nah, just kills and buries.”
“I…can’t. I absolutely can’t.”
“Can’t what? Handle? Deal? Take Daisy? Express how happy you are to see me?” He slid his sunglasses off and let the glory of his hazel eyes hit her. “It’s the last one, isn’t it?”
“I am glad to see you,” she admitted. “If you know how to catch and kill mice.”
“I don’t usually kill anything, but let me check it out.” With that irrepressible smile, he went ahead. “Stay here and I’ll see what’s what.”
She sighed, relieved, and gestured for him to go in, leaning against the column that held up the porch overhang.
A few minutes later, he came back to the door. “Safe to come in now.”
She pushed off the brick and looked at him as the screen door opened and he came out. “He’s gone,” he said.
“How do you know?”
“I escorted him outside by the tail. Didn’t give me much of a fight.”
Her jaw dropped. “With your bare hands?”
He reached them to her and pressed her face, making her jerk back with a scream, even though she could feel they were wet and smelled of her antibacterial soap.
“With my big, bad, bare hands,” he confirmed. “And I found a hole that is probably how he got in, which I can easily seal for you. Then we’ll set a humane trap.”
“So I’ll have a live, trapped mouse in my kitchen? Then what?”
“Then I will rescue you again,” he promised, making her stomach do another one of those flips that it did all too often around him.
“I don’t need rescuing.”
He lifted a brow. “Then don’t freak out about a mouse.”
Touché. “Why are you here?”
“To take you to meet Daisy.”
She stared at him, spinning through every possible excuse for why she couldn’t have a dog. But there really wasn’t one except she didn’t do dogs. Even cute little puppies named Daisy. A terrier, he’d said yesterday. Wasn’t Toto a terrier?
“Only to meet her?” she asked.
“And see how you feel about her. But in case you want to bring her back today, I thought I’d check out the house to make sure the house is dog-friendly.”
“I think the owner has a dog she must have taken on her trip.”
“Ziggy, a Maltese,” he said. “But Daisy’s a different breed and we require a house check, even for a temporary situation or a rescue from Waterford. I promise you she’s well behaved. Still, I’ll look around and handle the due diligence since we’re technically boarding her for our sick friend.”
Dog rescuer. Sick-people helper. Mouse remover. He really was the whole package, wasn’t he? Not to mention stone-cold gorgeous. And the way he kissed.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.
Um, out-of-control hormones? “Just wondering…what might she chew?”
“Shoes.”
She blinked in shock. “Expensive ones?”
“If they smell nice and foot-y.”
Oh, God. “The fun never stops with you, does it?”
“Never and you’ll do well to remember that.” He gave a cocky but somehow still-endearing grin. “Keep your shoes behind a closed door. Oh, and you have to be careful with any medication. I’ll check for choking hazards, like window-treatment cords. No wires she could gnaw on, or dangerous substances around like chocolate.”
“Chocolate is dangerous?” She’d bought a giant bar of Godiva that was right out on the kitchen table. Unless the mouse ate it.
“Deadly. Do not ever let a dog eat chocolate. No table food at all,” he said as they walked back in. “It’s best to never let her eat off your plate.”
She coughed softly, making him laugh.
“I guess I don’t have to worry about that with you.”
“But there is chocolate,” she admitted as they got to the kitchen and she pointed at the offending bar, which suddenly looked really out in the open and deadly. And huge.
“You’ll eat that whole thing?” he asked, incredulous.
She shrugged. “I like my chocolate, okay?”
“Okay. But keep it behind a closed door with your expensive shoes. Can I look around?”
“Yes,” she said, finally putting down her 409 and pulling her hair out of the ponytail on a sigh when he disappeared down the hall. “Maybe I’m not the best person for this dog,” she called. “What if I leave chocolate out? Or there’s a stray window cord? Or she brings me a mouse in the middle of the night?” She had to actually stop herself from wailing.
“She’s really a good dog,” he called back. “And you’re only going to dog sit for a month or so, Chloe. Not adopt her.” At her long silence, he added, “Just meet her, okay?”
She let out a sigh. She really did want to see this famous Waterford Farm. And a few hours with Shane wouldn’t exactly be painful.
“You’re good,” he said, coming back to the kitchen. “And I was so right about that underwear drawer.”
She gasped. “You looked?”
He laughed. “You might want to keep the bedroom doors shut since there’s carpet in those rooms. The rest is wood or linoleum, so you’re fine.”
“Don’t tell me. If she chews carpet, she’ll get sick?”
“No, but you will if she pees on your carpet. At least on the wood or linoleum, you can easily wipe it up.”
Her jaw dropped. “The dog is going to pee in my house?”
“Not if you take her outside.” He picked up the 409. “You’ll need something better than this if she does pee. You’ll want to kill the smell.”
“No, I’ll want to kill myself.”
Still laughing, he led her to the door. “Come on, I want you to meet my family.”
She slowed her step. “Like this?” she asked, gesturing toward her shorts, sneakers, and cleaning top. Without a speck of makeup and her hair a wreck?
“It’s a dog farm, Perfect Chloe. We don’t dress up. Although you might want to put jeans on, because Daisy will lick those legs like you’re a human ice cream cone.” He leaned in closer and pressed his strong shoulder against her. “Not that I could blame her.”
She closed her eyes and prayed for whatever she’d need to handle what was ahead. “I’ll change and meet you at your truck.”
* * *
If Chloe was scared of a mouse, how was she going to feel about Daisy?
Shane knew he should at least tell her ahead of time, but something stopped him. Maybe he wanted to see her natural reaction when she saw Daisy and realized she was in the pit bull family. But maybe she had no idea what that meant and she’d immediately see what a great dog she was.
Or maybe Daisy would lick her and Chloe would turn tail and run away in horror.
He needed to know that before he invested one more minute in this woman. Changing the world’s perception of pit bulls was his mission in life, and he did his best to convert every person he met.
Why should she be any different?
“So, how exactly did you go from lawyer to dog trainer?” Chloe asked as Shane drove his truck out of Bitter Bark and headed toward Waterford Farm.
“Easily,” he answered. “I hung up my three-piece suits and law journals and put on boots and treat bags.”
“Do you miss it?”
He’d been asked the question a million times, and the answer never changed. “Not for a minute. I still practice law by handling all the contracts and legalities for Waterford, but I wasn’t cut out to be a litigator.”
“Then why did you go to law school?”
Good damn question. “I’ve always had a thing about injustice. It makes me wild. Things should be fair. Life should be fair. And yet, it so rarely is.”
She looked at him, a question in her eyes. “Has your life been unfair?” she asked.
Just once. Brutally, viciously unfair. But he shoved the thought of his mother’s death away and threw her a playful look, far more comfortable with flirting than letting that hole open up.
“Unfairly good,” he replied. “Do you think that’s why I’m an arrogant bastard?”
“You’re not a bastard.”
He had to laugh at that. “I’m a little cocky, it’s true. But you’re a little obsessed with appearances, so—”
“I am not.”
“Did you or did you not put makeup on when you changed into jeans?”
A slow smile pulled. “I bet you were a good litigator.”
“I was fantastic,” he said. “It wasn’t about being good. It was about being miserable. My last job was as a corporate attorney with FriendGroup in Seattle and, whoa, can we talk about boring? Now I work with my family, and I spend my days around dogs, and I don’t have to suck up to clients or judges or juries.” He waited a beat. “Just tourism experts.”
“You are not sucking up to me,” she countered. “You’re guilting me into taking a dog.”
“No guilt at all, I swear. I’m helping your cause, and you’re helping mine.” He reached his hand over to pat her arm. “I really think you’re going to love Daisy, and if you don’t? I’ll understand.”
Wouldn’t like it. Might not be so hot for her anymore, but he’d understand.
“I am excited to see Waterford Farm. My aunt told me it was your dad’s idea to turn your family home into a dog facility.”
“Everything is my dad’s idea,” he said with a laugh. “That’s why we call him the Dogfather.” He leaned closer and did his best Marlon Brando. “He likes to make you an offer you can’t refuse.”
She chuckled. “That’s hilarious.”
“It would be if it weren’t true. Do you want to know why he backed out of the tourism committee in the first place?”
“Why?” she asked.
“Because he was trying to orchestrate a little get-together with my older brother Liam and the lovely Andi Rivers.”
Her jaw dropped. “Really? Do they know each other?”
“They dated for a little while, but it didn’t work out. Except, my dad hasn’t quite accepted that. He’s on his own mission in life.”
“Which is?”
“Impossible,” he replied. “But ever since we all moved back to Bitter Bark, my father has been on a quest to get all his kids leashed and collared.”
“What does that mean?” She looked confused. “You mean…married?”
“He thinks the world will stop turning if his kids don’t somehow replicate his perfect marriage to my mom.”
“I think that’s sweet.”
“So’s a no-hitter and a hole-in-one. You can’t catch lightning in a bottle ’cause you want to.”
“Oh, cynical, are you?”
“Realistic. But we all humor Dad and let him try.”
“Okay, who’s ‘all’? You said Liam is older than you. Is he the oldest?”
“Yeah, he’s in charge of our K-9 training unit and our protection dogs, which he trains and sells for astronomical sums to rich people who want vicious German shepherds patrolling their estates. He’s the strong, silent, and courageous type. So are his dogs.”
“Duly noted. Will I meet him today?”
“Not sure who’ll be around, but probably you’ll meet Garrett, who’s about a year younger than me, making us genuine Irish twins. He runs all of our rescue operations, handles placement and adoptions. We share a house not far from here or, hell, we used to. I never see him anymore.”
“Why not?”
“He got engaged about a month ago, so he’s always with Jessie, his fiancée. Which is great for him, but sucks for me.”
“Oh? So someone caught that lightning in a bottle. Was your father responsible?”
“He was pulling strings in the background, of course, being the Dogfather.”
“And the others?”
“Going chronologically, there’s Molly, a vet like my dad. And Aidan, who’s in special ops in the Middle East right now, and finally, Darcy. She runs the grooming business when she’s around, which isn’t always. She’s a tumbleweed like you.”
“I love these generalizations you make about me,” she mused. “I’m a germophobe. I’m appearance obsessed. Now I’m a tumbleweed. The fact is, I’m neat, I care what I look like, and I travel for business.”
He angled his head in concession and a silent apology. “So you don’t make generalizations about people?”
“I try not to.”
“What about dogs?” He half held his breath waiting for the answer.
“I don’t know anything about dogs,” she said. “I’ve never had one, never took care of one, never…” She shifted in her seat. “I’ll be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever petted a dog.”
He almost slammed on the brakes out of shock. “You’ve never petted a dog?”
“I told you, I’m not a dog person.”
“But…but…are you even a person? Who hasn’t ever petted a dog?”
“Maybe when I was little,” she said, squirming a bit. “Please don’t make me feel bad about it, Shane. I’m in this truck, and I’m on my way to meet a dog that might live with me. Do you know how huge that is for me?”
Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he should. “This is more than just getting old Bitter Bark to buy your idea, isn’t it? More than just proving something to me.”
He watched her swallow. “Every once in a while,” she said slowly, “I realize that I need to break a barrier. It’s not easy for me. It’s not natural for me. But if I can do it, I feel…better.”
“Oooh.” He let out a long, low sigh. “Then I’ll tell you right now she’s a Staffordshire terrier.”
She didn’t react, but that made sense. A lot of people didn’t know the official names of certain dogs. “That sounds British. Like something curled at the queen’s feet.”
Exactly what a non-dog person would think. “You might be thinking of a corgi or Cavalier King Charles. Actually, Daisy’s a little different.”
“In what way?”
“You’ll see.” He reached the front gates of Waterford and made the turn into the big drive. When he parked the car, he put his hand on her shoulder. “For what it’s worth, Chloe, I like a woman who can break a barrier.”
“I’m not doing this for you,” she said. “I’m doing this for me. And Daisy.”
He let that hit his heart. Hard. Damn. Now he really liked her.