Feliz Naughty Dog (The Dogmothers Book 7) Page 4

  But the mild flirtation had driven Agnes to try something all new—a dating website exclusively for older people.

  Her very first “match” had been a silver fox named Aldo. From his first text, he’d made her smile with a quick wit and genuine warmth. After a week of banter and text exchanges, he’d told her his full name and asked if she’d meet him for lunch sometime between Christmas and New Year’s.

  When she’d told Finnie, her best friend had flipped her Irish lid and announced Aldo Fiore was some kind of Mafia don hiding out in Sweetheart Springs.

  Which had to be hogwash…Agnes hoped.

  “How are they doing back there?” Finnie turned to look at Pru and Lucas walking behind them as the group made their way down the wide tiled floor between dresses nobody should be caught dead in and some ghastly seasonal sweaters already on sale.

  Agnes glanced at the teenagers, who were alternately talking and checking each other out when they thought the other one didn’t notice. “Love is in the air. Can’t you see that?”

  Gramma tried to straighten her glasses. “I can’t see too much of anything, truth be told. But aye, ’tis a bit more fun for a—oh!”

  All of a sudden, Tor launched between Finnie and Agnes, nearly tripping over the doxies, his long, lean body slicing through everything in its path as he tore toward a jewelry counter.

  “Whoa! Tor!” Despite his size, Lucas was yanked by the leash, barely able to stop the dog as he tried to pounce on a stack of gold earrings, his teeth just missing a sparkling ornament decorating the display. “Easy, boy!”

  The tower of jewelry tipped one way, then the other, but Pru managed to grab the table and save the whole thing from toppling over. Lucas put both arms around Tor and somehow held him back from taking a second swipe.

  “Yikes.” Pru gave a quick laugh in the face of Agnes’s and Finnie’s shocked looks. “Disaster averted.”

  “Barely,” Agnes said, tugging her own leashes to calm Pyggie and Gala, who barked noisily at the disruption. “Are you prepared to pay for anything he destroys?”

  The boy looked down, as chastised as the dog. “He’s, um, never been in a place like this before.”

  Once again, the contrition in his voice matched the big sad eyes of the dog, and Agnes’s heart shifted, proving it really wasn’t made of stone anymore.

  “Well, be careful,” she said, just as the dog dropped to the ground in a heap. “Oh! Is he okay?”

  “This is kind of what he does,” Lucas said. “He was raised as a sprinter, so he gets these bursts of energy and gets really focused on something, then he gets so exhausted, he has to rest. It’s a greyhound thing.”

  “Sounds like a senior thing,” Agnes said with a sly smile, making them laugh.

  “Just keep a hold of him, lad,” Finnie warned as a group of people tried to get by them all. “’Tis a busy day and a crowded place.”

  He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. He’ll be fine.”

  Agnes looked around as the crowd cleared, spotting the entrance to the mall just past the makeup counters. “All righty, then, we’ll meet you two back here in, what, two hours?”

  Pru looked slightly horrified at the suggestion. “Oh, no, Yiayia. We don’t want to be….We’ll go with you guys,” she said.

  “Pru, that’s not necessary,” Agnes said. “The last thing I want to do is draw Aldo’s attention to us, and this group?” Her gaze shifted to the animal the size of a reindeer literally snoring on the floor of Macy’s. “Is an attention magnet.”

  “You’ll never know we’re there,” Pru assured her, shifting a heavy backpack on her shoulder. “I’ve got all the RACK materials in this bag, and we’ll just follow you and quietly perform our Random Acts of Christmas Kindness on the way. Do you have your list?” she asked Lucas.

  He gave her a look like he’d never heard of a list.

  “Hang on.” Pru put her bag down and knelt next to it, and the very act shot a punch of irritation through Agnes.

  “We do not have all day,” she said, strident enough to get one of those warning looks from Finnie. But this time, a little sharpness was called for. “Prudence, you have a partner. He’s very nice. You do not need to keep us from our mission in order to accomplish yours.”

  “Just give me a second to find his list…” She whipped out a pack of papers, then another, setting them on the floor. “I made a special one for my team. It’s in here somewhere.”

  Agnes sighed, shifting from one foot to the other, knowing she was being petulant, but…Aldo. What if his Santa shift ended at noon? “Time’s a-wastin’, Prudence,” she said.

  “Let me help you,” Lucas said, crouching down to get next to her.

  Pru glanced at him, a little color rising in her cheeks. “Oh, that’s…” Their hands bumped as they both reached for some papers, making both of them jerk back, and Agnes could have sworn the lights flickered from the bolt of electricity in the room.

  “Is this it?” Lucas asked, holding out a brightly colored piece of paper with a glittery red border Agnes recognized as the stationery Pru’s mother used for her holiday letters. He shook it a little, raining red sparkles on the ground. “Whoa. The glitter bomb has exploded.”

  Pru gave a self-conscious laugh. “What can I say? I like Christmas.”

  He waved the paper, and more red flakes danced through the air like fairy dust around both of them.

  Agnes slid a look at Finnie, who was watching them, fighting a smile.

  “Let’s go,” Agnes mouthed, giving her a nudge toward the door. “They’re fine.”

  “So fine,” Finnie agreed, but hesitated long enough for the big dog to sit up and snap at the sparkly paper, digging his teeth right into it, then flipping his head from side to side like he had a glittery mouse in his jaws instead of Pru’s paper.

  “Oh no!” Pru cried.

  “Tor!” Lucas reached for the paper, tearing it out of his mouth, but the dog held tight to his half, chewing it like the sparkles were made of bacon.

  “Good heavens!” Finnie exclaimed. “He does need some training.”

  The boy’s shoulders fell. “I know, I’m really…” He swallowed, as if sorry wouldn’t cut it.

  “That was my only list,” Pru said softly.

  Tor stared at her, chewing.

  “We can save this,” Lucas assured her, spreading the half page on the floor with one hand and sticking his finger in Tor’s mouth to try to get the other half out. Instantly, Pyggie waddled over with his I’ll have what that dog’s having face.

  “No, no,” Lucas and Pru said in unison, while Agnes tugged his leash. Immediately, Gala barked in horror, sensing the chaos in the air.

  Pru let out a sigh like she sensed it, too. “Go on, Yiayia,” she finally said. “Gala’s upset. We’ll meet you at Santa’s Workshop in a little bit. This could take a while.”

  She nodded her thanks and gave Finnie another nudge. “Let’s go, Finn.”

  Once again, Finnie hesitated, looking down at Pru. “Call me if you need anything, lass.”

  “You call me,” Pru said. “And don’t have fun without me, Dogmothers!”

  With a quick wave, Finnie turned and hustled along with Agnes.

  “Sweet Saint Patrick there’s a little chemistry between those two.”

  Agnes grinned. “We’re getting really good at this matchmaking.”

  “But ye see she’s torn and wants to be with us.” Finnie sighed. “My dear Prudence, on the precipice of womanhood, but still a wee lass.”

  “She’s not wee. She’s sixteen and could use a little male attention,” Agnes replied, tugging Finnie into the bustling mall with Gala and Pyggie leading them on. “And so could I, so move it, Finola Kilcannon.”

  Finnie clucked as they threaded their way through the throngs of shoppers, past a group of carolers belting out Joy to the World, and spent some time detained by a ten-car train on its way to Santa’s Workshop outside the food court. The only time they voluntarily slowed was to check out the
contained, AstroTurfed play area for dogs, which had plenty of pups running around.

  “Maybe that rambunctious dog could run off some of his energy in here,” Finnie mused.

  “Except he’d jump the fence, eat the decorations, and scare the poor little ones half to death.”

  Finnie laughed. “The boy loves him, though.”

  “I can see that,” Agnes agreed.

  “I always say you can tell a lot about a man by how he treats his dog.”

  “I thought you always say it’s how he treats his kids.” Agnes stood on her toes to see over the crowd, spotting the Santa’s Workshop sign and a massive tree draped in gold and red. “There he is! Santa!”

  A woman walking by shot her a surprised and somewhat disgusted look.

  “What’s her problem?” Agnes muttered.

  “You’re never too old for Santa!” Finnie called out as the woman walked away.

  Agnes squeezed her friend’s arm. “God, I love you, Finnie.”

  In front of them, Gala pranced a little, always in tune with a rise in excitement. She must have known Agnes’s heart was pounding as they got closer.

  “He’s over there, on the other side,” Finnie said. “Facing the food court. Let’s get ourselves situated at a table, and we can watch him in action.”

  “Good plan, but can we just walk by first? Not too close, although I doubt he’d recognize me from that picture.”

  “The one taken in 1980?” Finnie teased.

  Agnes laughed lightly, knowing she sounded a little like those teenage girls giddy over Lucas, but she didn’t care. Crushes knew no age. “Let’s cruise by him, real nonchalant,” Agnes said. “I want to get a good look and be sure it’s him under the beard and fat suit.”

  “Off we go, lassie.”

  And she did feel like a lassie, for the first time in years. Hooking arms and letting the dachshunds part the crowd for them, they made their way around the giant tree surrounded by huge red boxes and bright gold ribbons.

  As they came around to the food court side, she got her first real look at him.

  Well, as good as it could be considering he was covered in a fur-trimmed red suit and wore a white beard. But she could see those dark eyes and his straight Roman nose. He was tall, too, probably six feet, with broad enough shoulders, considering he was eighty.

  Just as they got a little closer, he ho, ho, ho’d a little boy off his lap, handing him over to his mother, an attractive woman in her thirties. Santa said something that made the woman throw her head back with a hearty laugh.

  “See? He’s funny,” Agnes said, tamping down a little bolt of unexpected jealousy when the woman said something that made Santa laugh, too.

  “Can we get a little closer?” Finnie asked, adjusting her crooked glasses. “I can’t quite see him.”

  “You can. I don’t want to draw his attention.”

  “Stay on the other side of me,” Finnie said.

  Swept up in the moment, Agnes agreed, letting Finnie lead them to the roped off area, nestling up to a few parents taking pictures. They were close enough for Agnes to see the sparkle in Aldo’s eyes that wasn’t an act for the kids.

  “Better get a Ferrari under the tree,” he said to the woman. “Fortunately, I think he means a toy remote-control Ferrari, or you’d be out a few hundred grand.”

  The woman smiled. “That’d be a problem since I’m a single mother.”

  “You are?” He inched closer. “Are you in the market for a husband?”

  What?

  Finnie gasped softly, inching back, proving that Agnes had heard that correctly. Finnie instantly turned away. “Let’s get out of here, Agnes,” she whispered harshly.

  But Agnes didn’t move, mesmerized by what was unfolding in front of her and vaguely aware that Finnie was walking away. Agnes knew she should follow, but something stopped her. In fact, something drove her closer to listen to the exchange.

  “Of course I am,” the woman said. “But there are very few men who want to take on a wife and a child.”

  “Then leave your number and—”

  Next to her, a child squealed, making it impossible to hear the rest of what he said.

  Really, Aldo? Her faith in mankind, always on shaky ground, tumbled around a little in her chest.

  “I’m only interested in a man in his thirties, responsible, and likes to cook,” the woman said as the kid beside Yiayia sucked in air between screams.

  As Aldo replied, Gala was barking at the screamer, the mall train whistle blew, and the kid hit high C louder than the carolers crooning It Came Upon a Midnight Clear.

  Then the young mother gave a business card to Aldo, who grinned and tucked it in his pocket.

  Was he a cad? A player? A flirtatious Lothario? God knew Agnes already had had one of those in her life, so many years ago, before Nik saved her. That kind of man was the last thing she’d ever want again.

  But the woman had been clear in her list of must-haves and still had given him her number, so…what had he said to her? He certainly didn’t meet the “in his thirties” criteria.

  On a sigh, Agnes went to hunt for Finnie. Part of her wanted to run and forget this whole crazy thing. But part of her knew there was still much to learn about Aldo Fiore. And she wasn’t quite ready to write him off.

  Chapter Five

  Of all the things Pru had thought might happen today, discovering that Lucas Darling wasn’t a scary, intimidating, unapproachable hottie with a baditude was not anything she’d have put on her to-do list when she’d rolled out of bed.

  Shockingly, he was kind of…darling. Just like his dog, who wasn’t bad, not really. He was kind of darling, too. Shy and understated, but so impressive that people couldn’t look away or resist stopping to pet him.

  No surprise, a good many of those “people” were female, under eighteen, and flipped their hair when they talked in sentences that sounded like questions even when they weren’t. But to his credit, Lucas didn’t flirt back and was super protective of Tor. Having been raised in a big family that built its whole business around dogs, Pru gave him props for that.

  And for his valiant effort to save her glitter-covered list of the most creative ideas for Random Acts of Christmas Kindness.

  “Can you read any of it?” he asked as Pru studied what was left on the list she’d prepared for her original teammates.

  “Some,” she said, squinting at the list. “We were going to start our day by going into my aunt’s dog treat store, buy a bunch of treats, and hand them out in Bushrod Square. But now we’re here, so…”

  “I know there’s a pet store here, and they have puppies in kennels. We could give them treats.”

  “They probably won’t let you. Plus.” She made a face. “Who would buy their dog from a mall when there are a million rescues out there?”

  “Mall dogs need homes, too, Pru,” he said with a little tease in his eyes. Actually, that spark of humor was always there, she’d noticed. Not at school, but here he seemed a lot less daunting.

  “I take it Tor is a rescue.”

  He nodded, reaching down to pet the dog who, for once, strode along between them without darting, dashing, or getting distracted. “From Florida.”

  “Florida? How did you get him in California?”

  “From…a friend.”

  Oh, right, the ex-girlfriend. She recognized the vagueness in his tone every time he talked about her. “How did your friend get him in Florida?”

  “She…” He swallowed, visibly tense. “She had to go there for a family thing and ended up coming back with Tor.” A smile threatened as though the memory touched him. “Then…” He took a slow breath and let it out like whatever was to follow caused him genuine agony.

  “She had to give him up,” Pru helped when he didn’t seem like he could even finish the sentence.

  “Yeah.” He turned away, looking hard at a Justice store as if bedazzled sweaters for preteens interested him. So Pru went digging for another topic.
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  “So, some Christmas Eve, huh?” she asked.

  He shrugged, still looking away. “It’s fine.”

  “My great-grannies are nuts, though.”

  “I like them.” He turned to her now, that humor back. “I’m still confused, though. Are they both related to you?”

  “Gramma Finnie is my mother’s grandmother. And she practically raised me, right along with my mother and Grannie Annie, who’s passed.”

  “Finnie’s the one with the accent.”

  “She’s from Ireland.”

  “She’s a cool lady.”

  The compliment warmed her. “She’s the best. She writes a hilarious little blog all about dogs and our family business and the town, and she embroiders pillows. Oh, and she can drink a truck driver under the table.”

  “Really?” He snorted a laugh. “Sounds about right. And the other grandma?”

  “Okay, I’ll explain it, but it’s complicated.”

  He pinned that insane gaze on her, and suddenly Pru felt like she could recite the entire enormous three-branch family tree and he’d care. Was that possible? Bad boy Lucas Darling?

  Who’da thunk it?

  “My grandfather was a widower, and he got remarried to a woman who used to be Yiayia’s daughter-in-law.”

  He frowned. “Oookay.”

  “Except that this woman’s oldest son is also my grandfather’s son, because they used to date, and she got pregnant and…” She laughed at his incredulous face. “I’m losing you.”

  “Kinda, but I don’t mind listening.” He angled his head so one of his locks of dark hair slipped over his forehead and kissed a brow.

  Kissed? What the heck was wrong with her?

  “Well, short version is it’s a huge family with a lot of add-ons,” she said quickly. “I have, like, twenty aunts and uncles, half a dozen cousins, and they all have a million dogs. And one Greek great-grandmother who somehow fits right in.”