New Leash on Life (The Dogfather Book 2) Page 6

  “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.”

  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.