by L. P. Maxa
Eventually the old poodles passed on. Now her companions are two Chihuahuas, one of whom is also a rescue. She and Serrano have killed I don’t know how many stuffed squeaky toys by each taking an end and pu-l-l-l-ing on them until they each leave with their half, leaving most of the stuffing on the living room floor.
Unfortunately, the bad back depicted in the story is also a fact of life for Cocoa. Her vet has less-than-kind things to say about the careless breeding practices she is most likely the product of. Cocoa is doing much better, but she can’t do what the others can, and she whines a little when the other two get to go on a walk and she doesn’t.
It’s a myth that only big, unattractive dogs need to be rescued. There are many small, cute dogs that need a forever home. So if your heart is set on something tiny and adorable, you can have the dog of your dreams and still be a hero.
Brittany pulled into her parking space behind the brand-new Gatlinburg Acoustics and cursed the nerves that were making her stomach crawl. It was early, not even nine in the morning, but sleep had eluded her and she was here a good hour before she really needed to be. It was ridiculous, being so nervous about tonight’s Fourth of July Weekend opening of Acoustics V, the most recent installment of the popular bluegrass nightclubs that had sprung up in the heart of the Appalachians. She’d been performing in them since the first one opened its doors in Bristol back when she was in high school.
But today she was here in another capacity. A recent graduate of the ETSU school of business, she was the newest employee of the Navarro Corporation, the mega-million-dollar company out of Texas that was joint owner of the nightclub chain with her father and aunt. Brittany was here to oversee the grand opening of the club, having worked for the last two months to orchestrate the perfect weekend. Bands were coming from as far away as Texas and Hawaii to participate, and the iconic Barstows and The Jeffries, the hottest young country bluegrass band right now, were scheduled to appear.
Brittany was in charge of getting it right today. And she had to get it right. She had to prove, at least to herself, that she was worthy of the job, and not the fortunate beneficiary of kind-hearted nepotism.
“No pressure,” she murmured to herself. “Nope. Not one bit.”
She got out of her old Mazda, a relic from her college days, and started toward the back door. Suddenly a flash of brown darted out from behind the dumpster and disappeared underneath a row of cars. Brittany stared after the little animal. What was it? A squirrel, maybe, or something that had come into town from the park. It was too small to be a dog or a cat. Damned if she knew what it was. She’d only seen it out of the corner of her eye and it had been moving fast.
She let herself into the club and found her way to the cramped space that doubled as an office and small instrument and rehearsal room. Somehow her father and Uncle Ren had managed to get space on the coveted Parkway leading straight into Smoky Mountains National Park, but the trade-off had been about half the space they enjoyed in the other clubs. She wedged her gig bag onto the instrument shelf and sat down in front of today’s to-do list, to which she added three more items she’d thought of on her way in from her hotel room on the edge of town.
She willed her hands to stop shaking. She could do this. Honestly, she could.
Within a half hour, her family started to trickle in one at a time—her father, Cooper Barstow and stepmother Chessie, Uncle Ren and Aunt Kylie, Ren’s San Antonio cousin Alex Navarro and his wife, Misty, and her grandmother Lexi and the senator she’d married recently.
To Brittany’s delight, the television crews from Knoxville and Tri-Cities that she had contacted came. She felt herself calming down a little more. It was all going to be good.
Then the doors opened and it got crazy.
Five hectic hours later, Brittany was directing traffic in the instrument room with a clipboard in her hand and praying the popular Nashville band she had scheduled to go on at six showed up. The back door opened and a familiar face peered around the corner into the instrument room. “Well, hell-o, darlin’,” Lonnie Jeffries said as he carried in both a guitar and banjo case. “Been waitin’ for me?” He batted his eyes at her.
Brittany cursed herself for the frisson that ran down her spine. He’s a flirt. A hopeless flirt. “Actually, I’m waiting for my six o’clock band and hoping to hell they show.”
“Aw now, darlin’, no need to get your lacies in a twist. This place is crawlin’ with musicians. Somebody can sing for you.”
“I sure hope so.”
He gave her a wink. “Then you and I can run away together.”
“In your dreams.” She looked at him and shook her head although she had to admit, she loved the outrageous zingers and his naughty smile.
The rest of the band followed Lonnie into the instrument room. Ike, Lonnie, and Gary Jeffries were all good-looking men, but Lonnie had always made her look twice. It didn’t hurt that he had a great ass and a muscular build topped by a curly mop of coffee-brown hair that stuck out no matter how hard he tried to tame it. His face, with its snapping hazel eyes, high cheekbones, straight nose and square chin, was a masculine thing of beauty.
Too bad he was such a hopeless flirt.
Brittany didn’t do flirts. She preferred her men straightforward, and Lonnie Jeffries produced more bullshit than a Texas feedlot. She could never take him seriously. Which was too bad. He was hot.
Minutes passed and sweat beaded Brittany’s upper lip. Ren’s mariachi group didn’t have but twenty more minutes in their set and the dining and bar areas were starting to fill up. The last thing she needed was an empty stage at six, which was right when drinkers and diners would be hitting the doors en masse.
Her phone dinged with a text. She looked down and swore loudly enough to attract the attention of the entire room. “Sorry.” She blushed and bit her lip. “My six o’clock band’s caught behind a wrecked eighteen-wheeler on I-forty. They’re on the other side of Knoxville and the whole highway’s shut down. Damn it.”
Brittany’s mind raced. She started to text but Lonnie reached out and put a hand on her arm. A zing went up her arm at the warmth of his touch. “Darlin’, chill. We can take the six o’clock set. All right?”
“What about your agent? He said one set tonight and no more.”
Lonnie raised his eyebrow. “Darlin’, last time I checked, he’s not in charge. He works for us, not the other way around. If we want to help you out, that’s our decision.” The rest of the band nodded. “Get the mariachis to play two extra numbers and then we’re on.”
Brittany almost crumpled in relief. “Thank you so much.”
He grinned wickedly. “But it’s gonna cost you, darlin’.” He winked. “It’s gonna cost you, big time.”
Brittany swallowed. God only knew what he expected in return.
###
Lonnie laughed to himself when Brittany’s eyes widened before she scurried out of the room. The girl was damn fun to tease. Ever since the first time he’d laid eyes on her, the devil in him made him want to get a rise out of her and make those gorgeous gray eyes flash. He loved getting under Brittany Barstow’s skin. It was so easy to do, and she needed the ribbing. The girl had a major stick up her ass.
But maybe today she had a reason. He’d heard via the grapevine that after she’d gotten her degree, she’d gone to work for the Navarro Corporation, the fancy-assed company out of Texas that owned a half-share of the Acoustics chain. It couldn’t be easy trying to show everyone she’d earned the job and not been born into it. And from what he’d seen this afternoon, her father and aunt had pretty much left her to it. Which would explain her near-panic when the next band didn’t show. Still, he wasn’t above having a little fun with her now and again, especially now that they’d agreed to help her out of a bind.
She came back a moment later and told them the mariachis had agreed to add a couple more songs. “Thanks. Really.” Her face was wreathed in a relieved smile that made Lonnie blink. She’d always been pretty, but
now she was a real beauty. He studied her while she studied that damn clipboard. Blonde hair he’d bet didn’t come out of a bottle, a trim figure that curved in all the right places, but was hidden by those ugly khaki pants and the Acoustics polo shirt. She had a classically oval face with the kind of features seen carved into cameos. She wasn’t all that tall, maybe five-five or so, but she seemed taller from the sheer force of her personality. And when she stepped on the stage and raised her fiddle to her chin? Pure magic.
They tuned in record time, then took the stage. Lonnie looked around at the crowd. “Thank you for comin’ tonight, folks. We are the Jeffries and we’re here to entertain you this evenin’.” He pointed to a cute college-aged girl at a table in the front. “Darlin’, you got a boyfriend?” The girl nodded. “He’s a damned fool for lettin’ a pretty girl like you go runnin’ around by yourself. Just sayin’.”
The crowd laughed and the band launched into their first number. After a few songs, Lonnie made a production of introducing his brothers and sister-in-law, and then looked around the dining room. Sure enough, Brittany was standing in the back, clinging to that damned clipboard in a death grip. “And I want to introduce y’all to Miss Brittany Barstow. She’s the pretty lady in the back with a clipboard in her hand and a scowl on her face. What’s with that frown, darlin’? Put down that clipboard and bring that fiddle of yours up here and do a number with me.”
Brittany’s head snapped up as a spotlight shone on her. She schooled her face into a stage smile while shaking her head, but a grinning Ren handed over her fiddle. She stepped up onto the stage and Lonnie made room for her in front of his mic. “So what would you like to sing with me, darlin’?”
She leaned into the mic. “What do you folks want to hear? Happy or sad?”
The crowd’s reply was mixed. “How about one of each?” Lonnie asked.
The audience clapped. Lonnie had never heard her sing before and was surprised and more than a little pleased at how well his and Brittany’s singing voices blended. Husky and low, hers was reminiscent of her grandmother, Lexi Barstow, at her best.
The audience listened, spellbound, and surged to their feet as the last notes of their second song sounded. A big smile on his face, he took her hand and kissed it, grinning when her face turned red in the spotlight. He leaned into the mic. “I gotta say, Miss Brittany. We sing together mighty fine, don’t you think? You pack up that fiddle and run away with me tonight, we’ll raise hell across three counties.”
Brittany raised her eyebrow. “Last I heard you made my Grandma Lexi the same offer. She passed and so will I. But thanks for the invite.”
The crowd laughed and Lonnie clutched his chest. “Darlin’, you wound me. How about kissin’ it all better?”
An impish expression crossed Brittany’s face. She sidled closer and planted a swift kiss on his lips before hopping off the stage. An unexpected jolt ran straight down to his balls at the touch of her warm, soft mouth on his.
He blinked in the spotlight and forced his brain back on the performance. The last thing he needed was a hard-on in a tight pair of jeans with a spotlight shining on him.
But he was still thinking about that kiss at midnight. How soft her lips had been. How good they’d tasted. Whether or not he would ever again feel them against his.
Lonnie yawned as he carried his gig bags to their van, Ike right behind lugging the big, awkward bass. They’d ended up playing three sets tonight, their agent be damned. The Barstows had given them their start and they’d celebrate this new club if they felt like it.
Now the adrenaline rush was gone and he was starting to feel tired. With the Gatlinburg hotels sold out for the Fourth of July weekend, the band had to drive the ninety miles back to their home base in Kingsport, then turn around and make the same round trip tomorrow before leaving for two weeks working in the Nashville area.
Ike stowed the bass case and Lonnie added his two gig bags. They were waiting for Karen and Gary when Brittany came striding out the back door with a flashlight in her hand. She squatted down in front of a decrepit Mazda and shined the light under the car. She crooned something and a sharp, high-pitched yap came out from under the vehicle.
Curious, he wandered over and squatted down beside her. “Whatcha got under here?”
“Not sure. I thought it was a little critter that wandered out of the woods, but that sounded like a dog’s yap. Here, see if you can tell what it is.”
Lonnie took her flashlight and aimed it under the car. On the underside in the corner sat the tiniest dog he’d ever seen. The dog blinked in the light and emitted a low growl. “That itty-bitty dog doesn’t seem too friendly,” he observed. “And the poor thing is terrified.”
“Ya think?” They stared at the growling dog for a minute. “What kind of puppy is that, anyway?” she asked.
Lonnie studied the miniscule dog for a minute, taking in the reddish-brown coat, the floppy ears, the legs and body that were dachshund-like but not really. “That’s a Chiweenie.”
“A what?”
“A Chiweenie. A Dachshund-Chihuahua cross. And that’s not a puppy. That’s a full-grown dog. No puppy would be growling at us like that.”
“But it’s so tiny.”
“Most Chiweenies are.” Lonnie held his hand out. “Want to come here, baby dog?” He deliberately lowered his voice to be as nonthreatening as possible. The dog growled at him. “Okay, baby dog. I’ll take that as a ‘no.’”
Brittany looked at him with genuine distress. “What can I do? As little as that dog is, somebody’s going to hit it here in the parking lot if I leave it here.”
“That’s easy. We don’t leave it here.” Lonnie straightened. “We get it out from under your car and to a safe place.” He held up his hand when she started to speak. “I’ve got something in the van we can use. Be right back.”
###
Brittany watched as Lonnie loped across the parking lot. He returned a moment later with a big net on a long pole and a roomy zip-up dog carrier. An exasperated Ike followed on his heels. “Lonnie, we need to get back to Kingsport. Gary and Karen have to get up in the morning with Chrissy.”
Lonnie turned to face his brother. “I’m not leaving a terrified animal to get hit in the parking lot. Y’all can wait ten more minutes.” He handed Brittany the flashlight. “Hold it on the dog until I get the net into position.”
She and Lonnie squatted down together. It took Lonnie three tries, but he finally got the net over the dog’s shaking body. Ever so slowly he worked the net and the little dog beneath it out from under the car. The dog snarled and snapped angrily beneath the net. “If you pick it up like that you’re goi,ng to get bitten,” Ike said.
“No shit ’Steada stating the obvious, make yourself useful and get me that towel out of the back of the van.”
Ike made a noise in the back of his throat before crossing the parking lot.
“You think the dog’s vicious?” she asked as it continued to growl.
“I think it’s terrified. And I don’t think its experience with people has been the best in the world.”
“What a shame. Can you tell if it’s a girl or a boy?”
“Not as dark as it is out here. We’ll have to get to some light and take a closer look.”
Ike returned with a big towel. Lonnie carefully wrapped the little dog in the towel and positioned the dog, towel, and net over the opening in the carrier. Gently, he eased the dog into the carrier and shut the zipper quickly, before it could escape. “Now what?” Ike asked. “You’re not taking that dog back to Kingsport.” He turned to Brittany. “Lonnie’s a sucker for strays and rescue animals. Insists on carrying a net and a travel carrier in the van. Keeps a half-dozen crates in the garage. He’s on a first-name basis with the directors of every animal shelter in three counties.”
“What is wrong with that?” Brittany snapped. “I bet I know those directors as well as he does.”
“Oops. Sorry.” Ike held up his hands and took a couple
of steps back. “But seriously, Lonnie. We need to get back.”
Lonnie looked torn. “Can you manage the dog on your own?”
“I don’t know.” Brittany bit her lip. “My suite’s big enough but I don’t know if I can manage the dog. It’s not going to come when I call.”
“You got a sofa in that suite I can sleep on?”
Brittany swallowed. Sexy, flirty Lonnie Jeffries wanted to sleep on the sofa in her hotel room. The man she kissed on stage in front of everybody. But the man who’d asked about her was helping her save a tiny dog from certain death. He’d known what he was doing with that net and the travel carrier. Based on his brother’s comments, Lonnie rescued animals on a regular basis.
And he was willing to forgo a night of sleep in his own bed to help her take care of this one.
Who are you and what have you done with Lonnie Jeffries?
She nodded. “I have a sofa in the suite. As short as you are, you’d probably fit just fine. No—wait—I didn’t mean—”
Lonnie laughed and even Ike cracked a smile. “We Jeffries men are vertically challenged and proud of it,” Lonnie said. “Makes it easier for women to kiss us.”
Okay, the Lonnie she knew was back.
Ike volunteered to bring Lonnie’s toiletries and a change of clothes when they returned tomorrow. Lonnie sent the net with Ike and they slid the carrier into her backseat. “They leave you to close up?” he asked as he got in the car. “I’m surprised your dad didn’t hang around.”
“The assistant manager’s closing tonight. My dad took Chessie back to the hotel as soon as their last gig was over.”
“Pretty young wife and a toddler to chase. Can’t say I blame him. Does your hotel permit pets?”
“I guess they’re permitting this one.”