Chapter Five
Before they reached the street, Shane’s next great idea had taken hold.
Turned out, he really was an idea guy. Just how “perfect” was Perfect Chloe? Since he didn’t believe in perfection, he already knew the answer, but messing with her was definitely fun.
“In here?” Chloe asked as they approached a sandwich shop not far from town hall.
“Let’s do takeout. We can go across the street.” He gestured toward Bushrod Square. “Sit under the shade of the hickory tree.”
“Did you know that the whole town was named after the wrong tree?” she asked.
“I’ve heard the rumor,” he said. “It’s town folklore.”
“It’s town fact.”
“Well, there already was a Hickory, North Carolina, so we ended up as Thaddeus Bushrod’s mistake. Be thankful you’re not trying to put Bushrod, North Carolina, on the tourism maps.”
She laughed, the first time he could remember hearing that pretty sound today. “I might have an easier job getting the name changed. Anyway, I’m not going to sit in the park and eat, so we’ll find a table in here.”
“Why not? It’s a beautiful day.”
“I’m in a white suit.”
“There are clean tables and benches.” At her look, he gave a conciliatory shrug. “Clean enough.”
“Nothing is,” she muttered as they stepped inside to order.
“I noticed you’re a bit of a clean and neat freak.”
“A bit,” she agreed, the understatement obvious in her voice.
He ordered a sandwich, and she got a salad, but as she turned, the last table was taken by an elderly couple.
“Come on.” Shane nudged her to the door. “Outside. I’ll clean your bench before you sit on it.”
But she was already looking around the little restaurant, probably doing a dirt scan for the most spotless table.
“There isn’t going to be an empty table for a while,” he said.
“I’m just noticing how dog-friendly this place could be.” Her dark gaze landed on him, those long lashes reaching up to arched brows, a hint of challenge in the look. “My plan would work, you know. You should change your vote.”
“I might if you eat outside.”
She huffed out a breath. “Fine.”
“Question for you,” he said when they stepped out into the sunshine. “Would you eat in a restaurant if a dog was at the next table?”
“It’s not about me. It’s about the town and the idea and building tourism.”
True, but something about a non-dog person using the love of dogs to her advantage rubbed him the wrong way.
Maybe Shane simply never met a challenge he didn’t want to conquer, but why the hell didn’t this woman like dogs? He’d suspected it from the first curled lip and he knew that’s why he’d abstained.
They crossed the street at the light, and he put his hand on her back, the gesture natural and protective, but he noticed she stiffened as though it were unexpected, too. “You have to practice what you preach.”
“Why?”
Was she that clueless? “I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that you have never lived in a small town before.”
“Then that limb would break,” she said. “I grew up in a town not much different than this one, though not as picturesque and our town coffers were probably in even worse shape. Little Fork, Kentucky, on the other side of those mountains.”
“Kentucky?” His brows drew. “I don’t hear that in your voice.”
“Because I’ve traveled. After I graduated from UK, I moved to Miami when I got a job with a marketing firm down there. My first client was a hotel chain, then I landed my first tourism account, for the city of Miami Beach.”
“A challenge to promote,” he said dryly.
“I learned so much and discovered I was good at it. I helped get a lot of business for the firm, then I went out on my own when I was twenty-five, which was seven years ago. I spend about three hundred days a year on the road.”
“Ugh.” The idea was so unappealing he couldn’t put it into words. “Don’t you get homesick?”
She shrugged. “Not for where I grew up certainly. And ‘home’ is a lovely apartment on Brickell Avenue with a view of the water, but not…” Her voice faded, then she finished with, “It’s more like home base and a place to sleep when I’m not on the road.”
What kind of life was that for a thirty-two-year-old woman? “Well, have your world travels taught you about local politics?”
“Enough. Except for one abstained vote, which I fully intend to change”—she elbowed him lightly—“I didn’t do too badly today.”
That was today. She could win today, but the whole town? Doubtful.
A few minutes later, they found a bench and picnic table, and he spread one of his extra napkins for her to sit on. She thanked him, brought out her ever-present hand sanitizer again, then carefully took her plastic fork out of a wrapper and opened her salad.
All the while, he sat across from her, watching. “So are you this particular about everything?” He imagined her folding each piece of clothing as she undressed. Imagined it a lot, to be fair.
“Pretty much.”
“Like, do you roll your underwear into perfect cylinders and stack them color-coded in your drawers?”
She looked up at him. “Didn’t take you long to get to my underwear.”
“But I’m right.”
She smiled, which was all he needed to know.
Just then, an older woman came around the path with a beauty of a golden retriever on a leash.
Shane looked over Chloe’s shoulder, tracking the dog. “That one’s been well trained,” he noted.
She turned and glanced at the dog. “How can you tell?”
“Experience.” He clicked his tongue and snapped his fingers, and the dog slowed its step and turned to Shane. So did his owner, so Shane pushed up.
“He’s a stunner,” he said to the lady, who beamed with pride, as most dog owners did, especially if they’d taken the time and love to train their doggo. “May I?” Shane asked, already on the way over.
“Of course.” As expected, the woman and dog came right toward him, and Shane got down and made eye contact.
“What’s his name?” he asked.
“Jackson,” she said warmly.
“Hey, Jackson.” He knew where retrievers liked to be scratched and adjusted his tone to one a dog would recognize as friendly. “Want to meet my friend, Chloe?”
He turned to catch a flash of disbelief on her face, but she wiped it away quickly, along with her hands on a napkin. “Oh, that’s okay. He’s walking.”
“Oh, no,” the owner assured them. “Jackson loves to make new friends.” She took a few steps and dropped the leash, which told the dog he was free to approach yet another stranger, and he loped toward the table.
“Don’t give him any food, though,” the woman added.
“I won’t.” Chloe twisted on the bench, discomfort already all over her body language.
Shane had seen it so many times in new dog owners, usually people who’d been talked into a dog by their kids or a well-meaning spouse, and they were either scared, clueless, or simply intimidated by any dog.
Jackson went right up to Chloe and sniffed, pressing his snout on her leg and making her jerk away, both hands in the air.
“He won’t hurt you,” the lady said.
“I know…it’s just…” She gave a helpless look to Shane, who immediately took control by getting back down with the dog.
“Here, Jackson. C’mere, boy.” The dog instantly came to him and got some love. “Can you sit?”
He did, making the owner laugh with more doggie pride. “He knows a lot of commands,” she bragged.
“Roll over,” Shane ordered, and Jackson immediately lay down, turned over, and offered his belly for a rub. Of course, Shane obliged, talking quietly to the dog. “Give kisses?” he asked, knowing exactly what he’d get.
The dog got up and leaned in for a big lick of Shane’s face, making the owner coo and Shane laugh and Chloe gape in horror.
After a minute, he got up and made small talk with the owner, whose name was Betsy, then said goodbye to Jackson before coming back around to his side of the picnic table.
Without a word, Chloe reached into her bag and pulled out her little bottle of trusty hand sanitizer, handing it to him.
“Only for you.” He squirted some on his hand. “Nice dog, huh?”
“Oh yeah.” Zero interest.
As he suspected, miles from “perfect,” at least in his opinion.
“So,” he said after a moment. “I’m changing my vote to a no.”
Her plastic fork froze midbite. “What? Why?”
“Because you don’t believe in your own idea.”
She set the fork down and gave a frustrated exhale. “Because I didn’t crawl all over the ground, touch an animal while I’m eating, and let it lick my face with a tongue that might very well have been covered with dog food or…worse?” She shook her head. “For that I lose?”
“Unless someone else changes their vote.”
“Why did you abstain?” she asked. “Conflict of interest?”
“I told you already, I’m interested. You’re the one who’s conflicted.”
“With your business, I mean. I think someone mentioned that my idea would help your business.” She thought about that for a moment. “Would it?”
“Maybe. And our business could help your idea. That’s not why I abstained.”
“Then why?”
She probably wouldn’t like the truth, but he wasn’t a person to dance around it unless he was in a courtroom. “I knew how everyone in that room would vote, and I knew it would be a four-to-four tie.”
“How did you know for sure?”
“Because I live here and I know the players. Would you like to know how they all voted?”
She picked for a dainty bite of lettuce, flicking red onions out of the way of her fork. “I can guess, but I’m sure you’ll set me straight.”
“The four who left together were your no’s.”
She thought about that, nodding as she swallowed. “Librarian is a stick in the mud. Spa owner Red Head is a pain in the butt. The funeral director is a stiff.”
“Pardon the pun.”
She laughed softly. “But you’d think the newspaper guy would be a little more progressive in his thinking.”
“Damn media.” He grinned at her. “On the other hand, you definitely have your aunt—”
“Whoa.” She held up a hand. “How did you know she’s my aunt?”
“My dad told me. You know, the old guy?”
Her eyes shuttered. “I meant that in the nicest possible way.”
“Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him, and that’s not why I’m taking his place.”
She didn’t respond right away, studying him for a moment. “Why are you taking his place?”
“Because of you.”
A little color drained from her cheeks at his honesty. “Really?”
“Don’t underestimate your power, Chloe Somerset. You’re smart as a whip, extremely pretty, and you kiss like…like you need to do more of it but don’t like to lose control. I’m here to help on both counts.”
She shook her head and gave up completely on the salad. Instead, she took a drink from a water bottle, and he enjoyed watching the slender column of her throat move as she swallowed. She set the bottle down and, of course, screwed the top back on.
“So you’re a shrink and a dog trainer and a lawyer.”
“Guilty of all charges, only the shrink part comes from the other two. You can’t train dogs or practice law without becoming a little bit of an expert on figuring out what makes all of God’s creatures tick.”
“And you think I’m a control freak because I don’t want my hands covered in dog slobber when I’m eating?”
“Pretty much. Also, because you wanted to win that vote so bad today.”
“I didn’t want to win for control. I’m not trying to control this town.”
“Your aunt is.”
“Because she’s the mayor,” she replied. “She’s a very dear person, the only real family I have, and I want to help her out of the financial jam Bitter Bark is in. And….” She pointed at him. “This idea is brilliant, and you know it will work. You know it.”
He smiled. “You’re welcome.”
“It was up here all along.” She tapped her temple. “You just helped me dig it out. And I did thank you, if you’ll recall.”
“Not enough.”
She choked. “If you’re implying what I think you’re implying…”
“You think I want sex for that idea?” He managed to sound shocked.
“Yes.”
“Well, you’d be wrong.” He leaned back and crossed his arms, as smug as he could be. “You’d be dead wrong, like you were wrong about me being some guy who fixes Billy’s beer taps.”
“But you were fixing his beer taps or…something.”
“I was fixing his contract with the liquor distribution company because he was getting screwed out of two percent of profits. I was dirty because I’d been rolling around in a training pen with six dogs before Billy called me.” He shot forward again. “You made a wrong assumption. Admit it.”
“Yes, I did, but I’m not wrong about you wanting to have sex with me.”
Of course she wasn’t. But that wasn’t all he wanted. He needed help, and so did she. But he’d have to make her see it that way. “That is not how I want to be thanked and, frankly, I’m not looking for thanks.”
She folded her napkin in a perfect square, her long, feminine fingers smoothing the edges. “Why did you abstain from voting?” she asked in a low, calm voice. “You still haven’t answered that question, except you wanted to force a tie. Why?”
He considered all the ways to go. Then, of course, picked the truth. “I’m not sure I trust you,” he said.
Her jaw loosened. “You don’t trust me? You’re the one who—”
“Didn’t tell you who I was. I know. I had no idea I’d ever see you again, or that I’d want to so much.”
Her eyes flickered at his admission. “Then why do you say you don’t trust me?”
“With dogs. Dogs matter to me. A lot. I need to know you’re not just using them for this tourism thing.”
She didn’t respond, but met his gaze.
“If you get this vote today, then you’ll have to win over the town council. That’s a whole bunch of people you’ll have to meet and woo. And then, if you succeed there, you’ll have to win over the whole town for a vote. Will you stay to make that happen?”
“I have a few weeks, maybe a month before my next client needs me, and I promised Aunt Blanche I can stay until I get that call. I’ll put together a strategic plan and a calendar of events and maybe train an employee, if she can afford one, to run the program.”
Which was ideal. “Where are you staying, with Blanche?”
“No, in a house not far from here. Rose Dixon, the owner, is Blanche’s friend and is letting me live here while she’s out of town.”
He knew Rose, who’d brought her little Maltese to Darcy for grooming, and the house, which was perfect. “But before you can do all that, you have to convince the people of this town that your idea is a great one.”
“It is a great one.”
“Fifty percent of that conference room didn’t agree,” he reminded her.
She took a slow breath. “What are you proposing?”
“That you have a partner.”
“A…partner.” She laughed softly, shaking her head. “You really think I don’t see right through you, Shane? A partner where? In bed?”
“I doubt very much you’ll sleep with this partner, but then, I don’t want to make assumptions. You could surprise me.”
Her dark brows furrowed. “Who is this partner and how could they help me?”
“Her name’s Daisy.”
“Daisy. What does she do?”
A slow smile pulled. “She walks. She obeys. She barks. She might lick you, but only if she likes you.”
“Shane.” She angled her head and let out a sigh. “Fine. You win. I’m not a dog person. Guilty as charged, Counselor.”
“Exactly.”
“What does that mean? You want to change me? Because not everyone is cut out to be a dog person, as I’m sure you know.”
“I do know that.” He leaned forward and took one of her hands in his. “But dog people can smell other dog people.”
She curled her lip.
“Not that dogs smell,” he added. “But, if you won’t even say hello to a sweet ol’ retriever in the square, you don’t stand a shot at winning this. And you sure as hell don’t get my support.”
She opened her mouth to talk—to argue, he’d bet—then shut it, smart enough to see the wisdom in his thinking.
“And I’ll be honest, there’s something in it for me, and it’s not changing you into a dog person.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“I need a home for this dog, for about a month or so, until her owner is healthy enough to take her back.”
She looked confused. “Don’t you run a dog shelter?”
“Daisy’s never been in a kennel in her life. She’s a house dog and lives with a woman I know.”
She lifted a brow. “Someone special?”
He almost laughed at the idea of Marie Boswell, a seventy-year-old widow with a passion for saving dogs, being what Chloe thought she was. “Very special,” he assured her.
She didn’t say anything for a long time, but she was considering the idea, he could tell. Points for not saying no outright. “I have issues with dogs,” she said bluntly.
Clearly. But he understood that, all too well. “Have you had trouble with one? Been bitten?”
“No.” She shook her head, then looked down at her perfectly folded napkin square before meeting his eyes again. “I don’t think they’re clean.”
“Oh, is that all? A good dog’ll cure you of a little germophobia.”
“Look, I’m not germophobic. If I were really that crazy, I couldn’t do this.” She put her hand on his this time, adding pressure. “I couldn’t shake hands with strangers, and I sure as hell couldn’t have kissed you on the mouth with tongue the other night.” She took her hand away and started stroking that napkin again, quiet for a bit.
“I know what crazy looks like,” she said softly. “I’m not crazy. I do, however, like things…sanitary. Clean. Safe. I was sick a lot as a kid, had a ton of allergies, and I…protect myself.”
He glanced down and watched those lean fingers shred one side of the napkin, and something slipped inside his heart. Oh, that need for control might run deeper than he even imagined. And dogs could test that, for sure. Help it, too, but she hadn’t asked for his help, and maybe he was the one making wrong assumptions here, and just because he believed the world should love dogs like he did didn’t make it so.
“You won’t have to protect yourself from Daisy,” he said quickly. “But I’m not going to force you if you don’t like the idea.”
“I don’t hate the idea.” She let out a soft sigh. “Would it get you to change your vote?”
“If it did, I’d be guilty of graft and corruption. And you’d be guilty of bribery.”
She smiled. “Then I’d need a good lawyer.”
He reached for her hand to stop the napkin shredding. “Why don’t you just meet Daisy and see what you think?” He ran a finger along her knuckles and watched some chill bumps rise on her arm.
“I don’t think I’ll ever…” She glanced to where he had been with Jackson. “Rub them or let them lick me.”
“You don’t have to. Simply have her live with you, and walk her around every day while you make friends with people who live here. I’ll help you get used to her and learn commands. I am a dog whisperer, you know.”
She swallowed. “I think you’re just a whisperer.”
“Maybe a little.”
“Daisy,” she sighed. “She sounds sweet. I’ll meet her, but no promises.”
“She’s amazing. And you’re going to love her.” He picked up her hand and brought it to his lips. “I bet you’ll even let her kiss you.”
“Not likely.”
“How about me?”
She let out a sigh. “Pretty likely.”
He grinned at the answer and the fact that he felt her pulse kick up at the admission. “Then let’s go rock the vote.”
“I thought that was bribery, graft, and corruption.”
He scooped up her trash and dropped it in the nearest can. “See? One lunch and I taught you all about small-town politics.”