by Mara Wells
“We were worried the dog would be jealous when we had Zoe, but the two of them are inseparable. Partially because Zoe is a never-ending supply of snacks.” The mother smiled at her daughter. “It makes keeping the kitchen clean easier, too. Cocoa’s always been part chowhound.”
“They make a good team.” Caleb watched Cocoa watch Zoe for any more scraps. “I’m Caleb. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Sasha. You new to the neighborhood?”
“You could say that.”
“It’s a great place to live. And this get-together is lovely, isn’t it? Did you already sign the petition? It’d be such a shame to lose our dog park to a heartless developer.”
“It’d be the worst. And I’d probably be out of a job.” Riley joined the conversation, a half-eaten brownie in hand.
“You don’t know that for sure.” Caleb’s stomach growled. The cookie’d only made him hungrier. “Maybe it’ll lead to a better job.”
“I like my job how it is.” Riley stretched the truth a bit to make her point. The Dorothy wasn’t her dream job by any leap of the imagination. What young girl dreams of pulling chicken bones out of a garbage disposal on a weekly basis and arguing with the cable company about internet speed? Not her. During her hospitality studies, she’d imagined herself rising in the ranks of a swanky chain, helping to create a luxury experience for weary business travelers and jaded millionaires.
Maybe she’d even dreamed of being swept off her feet by a billionaire—oh, why be greedy? a millionaire would do—noticed for her effortless efficiency and determined cheer. He’d find the swanky chain’s requisite blazer and skirt sexy, her tight chignon a mystery he wanted to unravel. At first, he’d think it was a mere fling, but it wouldn’t take long until he realized he couldn’t live without her. They’d be married in the Grand Ballroom, honeymoon at the sister resort in Tahiti.
Yeah, she’d thought about all of that, pulling midnight shifts on the desk and comping guests’ room service when their morning omelets arrived cold. She’d thought about it and dismissed it. Riley knew who she was, a hard worker with a grandmother to keep an eye on and now a dog who needed expensive prescription dog food to keep from developing more bladder stones. She watched LouLou enticing Lady into galloping around the lot with a play bow and an excited yip. Lady obliged, lumbering to her feet and chasing the little poodle, tongue hanging out of her mouth.
A Dalmatian crashed into the back of Riley’s legs, hitting her knees at exactly the right angle to take her down.
“Careful.” Caleb reached out and grabbed her elbow, steadying her.
Riley caught her breath.
“Sorry? Did I hurt you?”
“No.” She rubbed her elbow. It wasn’t pain that brought the nerve endings in her skin to life. Why, of all the men in Miami-Dade County, did her hormones wake up for Caleb Donovan? She sidled sideways, attempting to put more distance between them without looking like she was running away. “The knockdown is an all-too-common occurrence at the dog park. I should’ve gotten out of the way.”
The tiny pack of terrors was already halfway across the lot, yipping and yapping up a storm. Riley smiled. Dogs knew how to enjoy the moment.
“It’d be nice if there were some benches.” Caleb scanned the lot, the assortment of humans as motley as the dogs they’d brought with them. Some stood, some sat in beach chairs they’d brought from home. Others squatted, petting dogs and speaking doggy nonsense to them. “Maybe a table or two?”
“And agility equipment.” Sasha filled the space between Caleb and Riley. “In our old neighborhood, the dog park had an A-frame, and Cocoa loved to race up to the top and enjoy the view from there.”
“An A-frame?” Caleb’s forehead crinkled while he looked up the term on his phone. Riley admired his earnestness, that desire to get things right, even in a casual conversation.
“A ramp. Shaped like an A. And there could be tunnels and weaving sticks.” Sasha clasped her hands together. “A real doggy paradise.”
“It would be nice for them to have more stimulation.” Riley shaded her eyes, forcing her gaze away from Caleb’s quick fingers, and searched the patchy grass for her poodle. “And a water station, especially in the summer, would be incredibly useful.”
“We could get a kiddie pool for the dogs who like to swim!” Sasha mimed the dog paddle, and Riley laughed.
“Poodles are supposed to love water, but so far, I haven’t had a chance to see if LouLou’s a swimmer or not. She doesn’t mind a bath, but she’s never seemed especially eager to jump into Eliza’s pool the couple of times we’ve been over there.”
“You never know.” Sasha folded her arms over her stomach. “We had a Lab growing up we couldn’t keep out of the pool. Every chance he got, he was neck deep. Loved to fetch things out of the water, too. He was quite a character.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Riley placed a hand on Sasha’s forearm.
“When did he die?” Caleb looked up from his phone.
Riley cut her eyes at him. If he was going to hang out around dog owners, he needed to learn the etiquette. Every loss of a pet was a fresh wound for dog lovers.
“Years ago. After I left for college.”
“I’m sure you still miss him.” Riley patted Sasha.
Sasha inhaled deeply. “Yes, Cujo was the best dog.”
“Cujo?” Caleb’s thumbs tumbled over his phone screen. “Like the crazy Stephen King dog?”
Sasha giggled. “My brother named him, I’m afraid, and my parents had no idea until years later why everyone did a double take when they heard his name.”
Riley laughed with her. “And now you have Cocoa.”
“Yes, I can’t imagine living without a dog.” Sasha turned to Caleb. “Which of these gorgeous pooches is yours?”
“Oh, I, uh—” Caleb’s thumbs fumbled, and he stuffed his phone in his back pocket.
“He’s a guest.” Riley didn’t know why she wanted to jump in and save him, but she wanted him to fit in. “LouLou’s guest.”
Sasha’s eyes widened, bouncing between Riley and Caleb. “Oh. Riley, you never said anything.”
Riley raised a shoulder. “Nothing to say. He wanted to check out the area. And LouLou, bless her man-loving heart, took a liking to him when he rescued her during a storm.”
“How sweet!”
“What’s sweet?” Sasha’s husband joined them, and Caleb ended up retelling the story of finding LouLou in the rain.
“I’m Joe.” He clapped Caleb on the back. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”
Caleb ducked his chin, a move Riley found endearing, and said, “Anybody would’ve done the same.”
“You’d be surprised who wouldn’t.” Joe launched into a story about finding a bag of kittens on the side of the 95, abandoned and starving. “Took ’em to a local rescue. Allergic as all get-out to felines but couldn’t leave ’em out there to die.”
Sasha snuggled into Joe’s side and winked at Riley. “I got a good man in this one, didn’t I?”
What could Riley do but agree? The truth was, she knew Sasha and Joe by sight, knew their daughter’s and dog’s names, even had a vague idea which direction their house was in. But she didn’t really know them. This was the longest conversation they’d ever had, the only conversation where they’d talked about something besides the weather or their dogs.
“You don’t have to own a dog to sign the petition, do you?” Sasha asked Riley. She gave Caleb an encouraging smile. “Every signature helps, right?”
“Right.” Riley gave a clipped nod, interested to see how Caleb would handle it. Had he seen the petition? Did he know it was for the upcoming commission meeting?
But Caleb wasn’t paying attention. He was frozen in place, watching as a black Dodge Ram slowly made its way past the park. It hopped a curb and parked illegally in front of Eliza’s ho
use, but with so many people coming out for the party, Riley didn’t think Eliza would mind.
A tall, blond guy climbed out of the driver’s side, planting two large cowboy-boot-clad feet in Eliza’s front grass. He shaded his eyes and peered across the street.
“Lance?” Caleb whispered almost too softly to hear. Then he unfroze and took a few halting steps in the direction of the Ram. “Lance!” His voice grew stronger, and then he was half walking, half jogging to the fence. “What’re you doing here?”
Chapter 12
“Said I’d be in touch.” Lance looked enough like their father that it was eerie. The same cool, blond locks, the same rangy build, same Grandpa William–blue eyes. He sauntered up to the chain-link fence, threading his fingers through the metal diamonds and leaning into the already sagging panel.
“So, hey.” Lance kicked a booted foot into the dirt.
“Hey.” Caleb stood about a foot back from the fence, noticing how Lance looked even more tired than when they’d video chatted. When Lance left the Donovan family business, he’d started his own construction company, Excalibur Construction, and he oversaw every aspect of the operation. Caleb remembered something about Lance’s ex-wife encouraging him to “lean in” to his King Arthur–inspired first name. Across the street, Lance’s truck had not only the company name but a logo depicting the famous sword in the stone and the slogan “We build your Camelot” in an old-fashioned scripty font.
Lance had taken his then-wife’s advice to heart, that was for sure. And it made sense. Lance wanted to leave behind the Donovan name. No way would Robert Donovan have been associated with such a cheesy name, even if he had married—and quickly divorced—the woman responsible for naming her son after a man doomed to love from afar.
Lance’s fingers tightened on the chain-link. “This is the empty lot?”
Caleb’s lips twitched. “As you can see.”
Lance surveyed the decidedly not-empty scene. “This is the property?”
“Yeah.” Caleb pointed to the Dorothy. “The lot plus that building.”
“Nice neighborhood.”
“Yep. Why don’t you come in? Meet some of the residents? I can give you a walk-through, tell you about what I’ve been thinking. Maybe you’ll have some ideas?”
Lance’s lips thinned into a line. “I don’t think so. This really isn’t my kind of thing.”
“But I’m building my Camelot.” Caleb knew as soon as the words were out of his mouth that he’d touched a nerve, gone too salesman, too like their father. He shook off the old training and tried again. “It would mean a lot to Grandpa William for the two of us to work together.”
“I don’t work for Donovans.”
“Not for. With.”
“I don’t do that either.”
“Then why’d you come by?”
“Can’t a big brother check up on his little bro, see what kind of trouble he’s getting himself into?”
Caleb rubbed the back of his neck and rocked forward on his toes, then back to his heels. “How’d you know there’s trouble?”
“Why else would you call so many times?” Lance dropped his hands from the fence. “Looks like we’re about to get some company. Some pink company?”
Sure enough, Riley was right behind him in yet another pink T-shirt. This one had a fluffy cloud across the chest with the word “Believe” written in silver glitter in the middle. Her hair was pulled back in one of her sloppy ponytails with a glittery pink hair tie.
She smiled at Lance. “Hi there. You don’t happen to be a Miami Beach resident, do you?”
He nodded.
“Wonderful! Will you help out by signing a petition to preserve our neighborhood? It’ll only take a minute.”
“Preserve it from what?”
Riley’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Why, one of those real-estate magnate types has his eye on tearing down my Grams’ building and turning this neighborhood dog park into a parking lot. Can you imagine?”
Lance’s eyes crinkled, proving his lines were as much from laughter as sun squinting. “I can indeed. And you mean to stop the march of progress?”
“For as long as I can.”
“I’d be happy to help. Where do I sign?”
Caleb grimaced but ambled along behind Riley while she pointed out to Lance how to enter the so-called dog park. He followed them to the table where a perky twentysomething with a Chihuahua on her lap talked an elderly gentleman with a cockatoo on his shoulder through the petition steps.
“Sydney, please help this gentleman sign on the dotted line.” Riley circled the table to stand beside Sydney, shoving a clipboard and pen in Lance’s direction.
“Happy to.” Sydney shot Lance a smile while her Chihuahua looked on with a weather eye.
When Lance reached for the pen, the tiny dog growled.
“Enough, Chewy. You can’t scare away our supporters. Did Riley tell you what this is about?”
“She sure did.” Lance took his time signing. “Not that she had to. I’d sign anything for you.”
Chewy growled again, and Sydney laughed. “Let’s hope it’s that easy to get the signatures we need.”
“I’m sure you won’t have any trouble.” Lance clicked the pen closed and rolled it back toward Sydney. Chewy gave it a suspicious sniff but allowed it to stay on the table.
“Thank you.” Sydney examined the petition, then flipped the clipboard to a clean page before setting it out again.
“You need anything, you’ve got my number on that form of yours.” Lance backed away with a slow smile.
“And on your truck. You can see that thing for a mile, can’t you?” Sydney petted Chewy’s head. “If I need construction, you’re the first I’ll call.”
“You need a night on the town, you can call me for that, too.”
“Stop flirting. Geez, can’t take you anywhere.” Caleb grabbed his brother’s arm and pulled him away. Lance might look a bit ragged with his hair curling over his collar and two-day stubble, but he was apparently still catnip for females.
“Now that I’ve signed, I can go, right? No need for us to work together if you can’t get the permits you need.”
Caleb wasn’t worried. A few signatures wouldn’t change anything. Cities made decisions based on dollars, not emotions. Still, he eyed a few of the clipboards to get a sense of what he was up against. When he saw how many signatures Riley’s party had garnered, he admitted to a twinge of alarm.
Lance smirked at him and turned the charm on Riley. “I wish you ladies luck with the City Commission. I hear those developer types have all kinds of nasty tricks they use to get their way, but I have a feeling they have no idea what they’re up against.”
Sydney giggled, and Riley thanked him for his time and signature.
“I’ll walk you out,” Caleb said, but Lance waved him off.
“I can squeeze through that gap all by my lonesome. Looks like you’ve got your hands full here. Do they know who you are?”
“She knows.”
“The one in pink?”
“Yeah, Riley Carson.”
Lance laughed and slapped Caleb on the back. “I’d wish you luck, too, but you know how I feel about Donovan real estate projects, so I’ll just say, little brother, choose your battles carefully. Who are you really doing this for?”
“Grandpa William,” Caleb replied automatically but knew it was the wrong answer. “Myself.”
“Hope you figure it out.” Lance strode away, and Caleb felt his whole project slipping through his fingers. Without Lance, Knox would never come on board. His brother hadn’t stopped by to help, just to gloat, plant some seeds of doubt and dissent, and disappear. Like he always did. Caleb understood how his dad felt sometimes, watching people—wives, sons, business partners—walking away. But he wasn’t his father. He wasn’t doing anything
shady or illegal. What would it take to keep someone by his side?
A sparkly “Believe” flashed through his mind. But what should he believe in anymore?
* * *
“I can’t believe how many signatures we have!” Sydney scrubbed the underside of Chewy’s chin with her knuckle, and he grunted in satisfaction.
“Eliza called in the troops, for sure.” Riley ticked off the groups of people who’d never been to the dog park but had shown up today. “Her yoga class, bunco group, and a bunch of her lawyer friends!”
“And a few judges. That won’t hurt when the City Commission looks at these signatures.”
Riley remembered Lance’s words. “Unless the Donovans have some trick up their sleeve we haven’t thought of yet.”
“Probably.” Eliza plunked into the tiny plastic folding chair next to Sydney, and Lady immediately plopped her big head onto her lap. “But don’t worry. I’ll be at the meeting with you to counter any legal trickery they might try to pull.”
Riley laid a hand over her heart. “You’re the best.”
“I am.” Eliza snapped her fingers for Lady to sit, which she did, and leaned forward to shuffle through the signature pages. “Not too shabby. By the time the meeting rolls around, we should have a thousand. You’d need ten times that to get something on a ballot for voting, but for our purposes, a nice, round one-thousand will do nicely.” Eliza neatened the edges of the stack and smoothed them with a finger.
“I hope it’s enough.” Riley spun in a circle, looking for her poodle. Of course, she was over by the fence, leaning against Caleb’s leg. That male-identified traitor. She’d better go get her. “I’ll be right back.”
Riley flip-flopped her way over to the fence where Caleb still stood, watching his brother drive off. She’d never met a single Donovan when she worked for their chain, but now that they’d dumped her, she’d met two of the three brothers in as many weeks. Life was strange sometimes.
Even stranger was how she couldn’t find it in herself to hate Caleb quite so passionately now that she knew him, knew his smell and how his lips tasted. She wouldn’t think about those things now, or ever, but it did touch something deep inside her to see the blatant longing on his face as he stared into the distance where his brother’s truck could no longer be seen.