Dare Me Again

by Alexander, Shelly

  OTHER TITLES BY SHELLY ALEXANDER

  The Angel Fire Falls Novels

  Dare Me Once

  Dare Me Again

  The Red River Valley Novels

  It’s in His Heart

  It’s in His Touch

  It’s in His Smile

  It’s in His Arms

  The Checkmate, Inc. Novels

  ForePlay

  Rookie Moves

  Get Wilde

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2019 by Shelly Alexander

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781503905207

  ISBN-10: 1503905209

  Cover design by Erin Dameron-Hill

  Cover photography by Sara Eirew

  For my husband, because he gets me. And because he has spent twenty-six years letting me spoil our dogs.

  For all the selfless people who dedicate their time helping our veterans when they come home. The Paws and Stripes organization in Albuquerque, New Mexico, is one such organization. Thank you for allowing me to go behind the scenes to see what you do for our community. The fact that you’re willing to dedicate your lives to training and pairing rescue dogs with our nation’s veterans is awe-inspiring.

  For my middle son for letting me use his name (unbeknownst to him) and his personality for the hero in this book. I’m so proud of you, son.

  And for the real Bogart (Bogey, as we so endearingly call him). You are a survivor, little buddy. Having only three legs has never slowed you down . . . much.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One #THREECUPKINDOFDAY

  Chapter Two #EPICFAIL

  Chapter Three #$H!TGETSREAL

  Chapter Four #HANGRY

  Chapter Five #ITSATHANG

  Chapter Six #MEANTTOBE

  Chapter Seven #TRAINWRECKINTHEMAKING

  Chapter Eight #SNOWBALLSCHANCEINHELL

  Chapter Nine #MANNERSMAKETHEMAN

  Chapter Ten #DOGSBEFOREDUDES

  Chapter Eleven #CRUNCHTIME

  Chapter Twelve #NOAUDIENCENECESSARY

  Chapter Thirteen #CHIVALRYISDEAD

  Chapter Fourteen #SOBADITSGOOD

  Chapter Fifteen #MEAGAINSTTHEUNIVERSE

  Chapter Sixteen #OPTICSAREEVERYTHING

  Chapter Seventeen #MATCHMADEINHEAVEN

  Chapter Eighteen #HOWISTHISMYLIFE

  Chapter Nineteen #ADORBS

  Chapter Twenty #DEJAVUISABITCH

  Chapter Twenty-One #BESTBADIDEAEVER

  Chapter Twenty-Two #YOUKNOWARELATIONSHIPISOVERWHEN

  Chapter Twenty-Three #POSITIVEREINFORCEMENT

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Chapter One

  #THREECUPKINDOFDAY

  “Now that’s a set of balls,” Elliott Remington said to his brother while staring down the barrel of his pool stick. The white cue ball cracked against the neat triangle of billiard balls at the far end of the pool table, sending a rainbow of colors whizzing in every direction. Two stripes disappeared into the corner pockets, and he stepped over to the window to peek through the shades of the state-of-the-art game room of the Remington Resort.

  He looked one way, then the other, and saw no one. Excellent. Lily, the Remington’s hospitality manager—who was hunting him like she was on safari—hadn’t discovered his hiding place. Yet.

  “Hey, butthead.” Spence, younger by just sixteen months, perched on a new lime-green barstool and twirled his stick. “The game’s over here, and how would you know anything about balls, since you don’t have any?”

  “You’re in that much of a hurry to lose?” Elliott looked out over the expansive front lawn and the stillness of the resort where he and his two brothers had grown up. The resort they now owned. The usual Sunday morning rush was over, but it never failed to get him out from behind his desk for a few hours to help the guests with their luggage and see them off. Gave him a break from managing the staff, doing payroll, yelling at vendors.

  Scratch that. Negotiating with vendors.

  Yeah, he liked that term better. Sounded more professional. Less assholeish.

  “The scenery outside hasn’t changed since you looked two minutes ago,” Spence said. Because they were both more than six feet with the same light-brown hair and green eyes, people often mistook them for twins. “It’s only a matter of time before Lily finds you. You might as well enjoy the downtime before the next set of vacationers starts checking in.”

  Unwinding over a game of pool was a Remington brothers’ tradition. A nice change from the hustle and bustle Elliott had grown addicted to while living in San Francisco.

  Scratch that too. Grown attached to. Because the lightning-fast pace of the City by the Bay, where he’d spent the better part of a decade setting the financial district on fire, was a thrill. An adrenaline rush.

  A distraction from painful memories.

  So here he was, on the little vacation island of Angel Fire Falls, unwinding. Ish.

  He finally let the blinds snap shut and circled the table, looking for a clean shot. “There’s very little I wouldn’t do to help the resort.” Hell, he was still here, wasn’t he? He’d come home for a long-overdue vacation several months back, only to stay indefinitely because of how much his family needed his help if the resort was going to survive. “But I can’t take charge of the service dog camp Lily scheduled.” He bent to line up a shot. “I don’t know anything about dogs. I don’t have time to learn anything about dogs.” The camp had been scheduled at the last minute due to the original trainer and venue suddenly pulling out. “And even if I had more than a few days to brush up on my . . . dog skills”—he couldn’t hide the eye roll in his voice—“dogs usually hate me because I’m—”

  “An ass?” Spence said with a straight face.

  Good to know sibling rivalry was alive and well, even in their late twenties. It was one of the things Elliott could count on. That and numbers. Numbers were safe. Secure. Steady. And never failed him, unlike the women in his life.

  He took aim and sank the next shot. “I was going to say intense.” Man’s best friend didn’t take to his Mach-5-with-his-hair-on-fire personality.

  The feeling was mutual. Pets could run away, and he’d already experienced more than once the pain and disappointment of someone important disappearing from his life.

  “Seeing as how you’re still living with me instead of moving into your own place, I get to pick the words that best describe you.” Spence scratched his scruffy jaw. “I say you’re an intense ass, which is why I’m planning to pack up your crap and move you out myself.”

  Elliott moving into one of the cottages on the resort grounds like the rest of the family was out of the question, even if his family didn’t understand why. Having a place of his own was too permanent, and he’d already stayed far longer than he should’ve. “Someone has to keep your sorry butt out of trouble. I guess that’s my job.” For now.

  Elliott pretended to aim at another stripe, then straightened and circled the table slowly. Taking too long was the easiest way to annoy Spence and ensure victory.

  Spence gave him a stony stare.

  Criticizing Spence’s work as a master builder usually shook his concentration too. The remo
del was perfect, but pool wouldn’t be as much fun if Elliott couldn’t give his little brother hell. “Did you forget your level the day you installed those?” Elliott hitched his chin toward the shelves hanging over the new gaming stations that ran the length of one wall and were stacked with the latest video games. “Or were you in a hurry to get home and watch Dr. Phil with a box of tissues?”

  Spence’s jaw ticked.

  Score. Elliott dropped another shot.

  Spence leaned back on the barstool. “You’re the one who secretly DVRs Say Yes to the Dress.”

  Elliott flinched. Some of the brides were hot. Some of the dresses made the brides look hotter.

  He scratched an imaginary speck from his cheek with his middle finger, the Remington brothers’ code for Up yours. No one else was around, but it never hurt to be discreet, which was the reason they’d created the secret communication system when they were kids. Then he bent to line up a shot that would send another stripe flying across the new purple felt.

  The door swung open, and Trace, the oldest Remington brother, walked in. He whistled a snappy tune with his son’s pet duck tucked under one arm. “Thing One and Thing Two,” he greeted them with the usual nicknames, then started whistling again.

  Several months ago, Trace had walked around like he was shouldering the weight of the entire universe. The goofy smile on his face and the constant whistling were new since he’d fallen head over heels for Lily.

  Chalk two up for Elliott.

  He’d been the one to plant the seed of hiring a hospitality manager in his dad’s head. Not only had Lily proven to be a prodigy in hotel hospitality management and was turning the resort around faster than any of them expected, but she’d managed to bring some well-deserved happiness to Trace.

  Maybe the debt Elliott owed his family was a little smaller now.

  “Waddles kept squawking, and Ben needed some quiet to finish his homework.” Trace set the duck on the floor and pulled out his phone. “Lily’s been looking for you, Thing One. I’ll let her know you’re here.”

  Elliott’s stick scuffed the side of the white ball, and it rolled in the wrong direction. “Do you have a death wish?” He straightened. “’Cause I’m going to kill you in your sleep if you send that text.”

  Trace’s face blanked. “What do you have against my fiancée?”

  Waddles ruffled his malformed wing and wandered around the room. The limp from his bum leg caused him to rock like a boat in choppy water.

  “Nothing.” Elliott claimed the same barstool Spence had just vacated. “That’s the problem. Landing the contract for a service dog camp—”

  “Boot camp,” Trace corrected.

  Elliott tried not to roll his eyes. “Whatever. Landing a contract for an event that benefits veterans was brilliant, especially this time of year with summer winding down.” Since he handled all things financial for the resort, he fully understood that the deposit alone, which the sponsor had paid to reserve the grounds and the rooms, was more than the Remington typically earned during the entire off-season. “I mean, who doesn’t like either dogs or veterans? It’s a win-win.” As long as it was run by the right person. “Which is why it’s going to be difficult to say no to Lily.”

  That and the fact she was like a lipstick-wearing pit bull when she was hell-bent on an idea to improve the resort or bring in new business.

  “Bullshit.” Spence fake-coughed behind his hand. “He’s afraid to say no to Lily.” He banked a shot left to knock a solid into the side pocket.

  Spence and Elliott might look alike, but their personalities couldn’t be more different. Spence usually won the brothers’ contest for biggest smart-ass—although Elliott had to admit it was a close call. But hands down, Elliott took home the award for the brother most likely to fail the family.

  Being at the business end of a snarling dog wouldn’t help make the event a success. An unsuccessful event would hurt the Remington, which would defeat the whole purpose of spending precious time trying to solidify the resort’s financial future while his real job was on hold in San Francisco.

  He didn’t plan on dealing another blow to his family or the resort. The last blow had been bad enough to last a lifetime.

  Guilt scratched at his stomach, and he tamped down the nausea that bubbled up every time he thought of his mother’s accident.

  “My fiancée barely reaches your elbows, but you’re smart to be afraid.” Trace grinned, dragging a barstool over to sit next to Elliott.

  “Down Home Dog Food is a big corporate sponsor.” Elliott scrubbed a hand across his five-o’clock shadow. “They can afford to hire an event coordinator with experience, and it’s in their best interest to do so.”

  Trace shrugged. “They might be a big company, but their brand is more . . . well, down home. Lily landed the deal by pitching us as a wholesome family-owned business, so they want a Remington to take the lead and work with the trainer.”

  “I’m the least suitable person for this event.” Elliott prided himself on knowing his weaknesses as well as his strengths. It saved him from making mistakes. Or at least from making the same mistakes twice. “Someone else in the family needs to step up.”

  “I’m busy with my new cargo delivery business, Lily’s helping Howard’s Hardware organize a community improvement month . . .” Trace nodded to Spence. “Thing Two has a list of remodeling projects that will keep him busy until the end of time, so you’re the only one left.”

  “Not happening.” Elliott rubbed the back of his neck. “Can you tell Lily? She’ll accept my answer if it comes from you, since you’re marrying her.”

  “Aaaaand we’re back to you having no balls.” Spence let his stick fly.

  Trace’s brow arched. “You obviously don’t know women as well as you claim, Thing One.”

  “I dare you to take charge of the service dog camp,” said Spence.

  Trace rubbed his hands together. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  The hair on the back of Elliott’s neck prickled. Dares were another institution among the Remington siblings. Probably a sign they should rethink some of their childhood shenanigans that had survived into adulthood.

  “Lily really liked the dog whisperer she hired to replace the original trainer.” An evil grin spread across Trace’s face. “They conducted the interview through a video call, and Lily said she’s an attractive redhead. You like redheads, right?”

  Elliott’s jaw tightened. A long time ago, he’d liked one redhead. Until he’d come home from his first semester at Wharton to find out she’d ditched him. Vanished without a forwarding address and no explanation except a kiss-off note she’d entrusted to Old Lady McGill at the ferry crossing. Not sure what that said about him, but it was enough to get redheads out of his system for good.

  Spence missed, and Elliott got up, put the pool stick behind his back for show, and sank the next stripe. “Nice try, but I’m not stupid.”

  Spence scoffed. “Since when?”

  “Then do it for the resort,” Trace argued. “If we impress the sponsor, they might host an event here every year.”

  Hard to say no to that one.

  Now that the Remington was coming off its first successful summer season in years, Elliott wanted to make sure they kept financial momentum going so the resort had a steady flow of income year-round. Then he could get the hell off the island and away from the haunting memories.

  As soon as he figured out how to break it to his family that he wasn’t home for good. Probably something he should’ve already mentioned before his dad signed over ownership to his brothers and him. Definitely the reason he was still sleeping in Spence’s extra bedroom instead of claiming one of the vacant cottages in the remote part of the resort where the rest of his family lived.

  He missed his next shot.

  Yeah, no balls. Spence was right.

  “We still have the little problem of animals not liking me.” Elliott walked over to Waddles and knelt with his hand out.

>   Waddles squawked, shuffled away, and settled at Trace’s feet, making a noise that was somewhere between a cluck and a cackle.

  Elliott gave Trace a look that said told you so. “If I can’t win over a duck, then I won’t stand a chance with a bunch of dogs that have sharp teeth.”

  “Look, the trainer will be working with the dogs, not you. Down Home Dog Food has been promoting it as a community outreach program, and interview requests are already hitting their inboxes. All you have to do is be the face of the resort.” Trace chuckled. “You know, stand to the side and look pretty.”

  Spence laughed, then sank the eight ball to win the game. “Mr. Congeniality here will be representing us in the news? We might as well board up the windows.”

  “Fine.” Elliott hitched his chin at Spence. “But I’m only doing it to prove that asshat wrong.” Never hurt to show up his brothers and let them know he was still a force to be reckoned with, no matter how old they got. “You two are going to owe me big for accepting this dare.”

  “Good.” Trace stood as Spence racked and stacked the balls into a perfect triangle. “You can pick up the dog whisperer at the ferry terminal first thing in the morning. She’s coming in ahead of the dogs and veterans to set up.”

  Elliott returned his stick to the wall rack. “I’m going to my office.” He headed to the door. “I’ve got toilet paper to order, and we’re getting low on the miniature shampoo and conditioner bottles we put in each room.” His life was so damn exciting. If his buddies in the world of high finance could see him now.

  Trace scooped up Waddles and handed him to Elliott. “Take him with you. He needs water.”

  Elliott gave his older brother a not on your life look.

  “It’s a duck, not a wolverine.” Trace pressed the duck against Elliott’s chest, and his arms closed around it instinctively. “There’s a water bowl for him in Lily’s office. Consider it practice for the canine boot camp.”

  Waddles squawked in disapproval and pecked Elliott’s arm. “Ouch.” He glared at the bird. “Do that again and duck stew will be our next meal.”

  Waddles settled into Elliott’s chest but kept cackling his unhappiness.