Puppy Love

by Lucy Gilmore

  As if drawn forward by some power outside herself, Lila leaned closer. Her head tilted up and her breath caught, and for one long, suspended moment, she could almost taste the touch of his lips against hers.

  Until, of course, a loud cheer and a burst of applause pulled her feet back down to the ground.

  “That was like magic!” Emily ran to her father and beamed up at him, her arms held up in supplication. “Like real princess magic.”

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Ford let go of Lila and swooped his daughter into his arms. “It was, wasn’t it?” he asked.

  There was nothing flustered about him, none of the awkwardness Lila felt at finding herself standing all alone in the middle of the tile floor. She still had her arms up as if he were holding her, her lips parted in anticipation of a kiss that was never coming.

  “I enjoyed the dancing, but I’m not so sure I’m ready for the part where I turn into a pumpkin,” he said. “Does it happen right away, do you think, or do I have a few hours before I begin my transformation?”

  “Dad-dy!” Emily cried, clearly delighted at this piece of nonsense. “That’s not how the story goes.”

  “I’d like to be a jack-o’-lantern,” he said, ignoring her. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “One of those scary ones with flashing eyes and sharp teeth. Then you can roll me out every Halloween to delight the neighborhood.”

  Emily giggled obligingly, but Lila was still rooted where she stood, unable to shake the feeling that she was standing on the outside of a joke never meant for her ears. As if to prove it, Ford turned to her and swept a bow.

  “Thank you, Princess Lila, for saving my daughter—and for the dance.” His eyes met hers, and he lifted his shoulder in another of those awkward half-shrugs. She assumed it was a prelude to more playful commentary, but all he did was frown slightly and add, “We won’t take up any more of your time.”

  And that was it. Without waiting for her to say anything in reply—which was probably for the best, since she had no idea what she could say—he whisked his daughter toward the emergency stairwell and allowed the door to fall shut behind them.

  The echoing silence they left in their wake had Lila feeling even more unsettled than when she’d come down here in the first place. Ford and Emily might not have been accustomed to running into beautiful princesses every day, but Lila had even less experience with cracking jokes about The Chicken Dance and waltzing with dashing strangers in tuxedos.

  And by less experience, she meant none whatsoever. Men didn’t normally sweep her off her feet before running away like Cinderella hightailing after her footmen. In fact, if it weren’t for the floor dusted with glitter from their waltz, she’d have thought she imagined the whole thing.

  But glitter was there in abundance, and another glance at the clock on the wall reminded her that she’d spent far too long down here already. They’d be making the announcements soon, if they hadn’t done so already, and there were several people she needed to see before the night was through.

  In other words, it was back to business as usual. Now that she was done with the mortification down here, there was no use in delaying the mortification waiting for her upstairs.

  “It’s not like you’ll ever see the pair of them again,” Lila told herself as she picked her way over to the stairwell. She was still feeling a little breathless, but that could easily be blamed on the tight bodice of her dress.

  Yes. It was definitely the dress. Not the touch of a man’s hand on her waist, not the whirling sensation that had almost swept her into an indiscretion. Even if everyone upstairs knew that she looked like a fool, at least they’d never know that she felt like one.

  She counted to sixty before she started up the stairs, careful to give Ford and Emily plenty of time to clear out before she followed. With any luck, it would be nearing the girl’s bedtime, and Lila could safely put the interlude behind her where it belonged.

  There was no sign of either Ford or Patrick as she stepped through the door and reentered the ballroom. Her luck held while she chatted with a social worker who very kindly made no reference to her dress whatsoever. It even lasted long enough for her to take a stuffed mushroom from a passing waiter.

  But just as she was about to pop the buttery morsel in her mouth, the emcee stepped up to the stage to make the announcement Lila had been waiting for all night.

  It’s about time. Finally, her agonies could come to an end. Finally, she could smile graciously and make one more dash for the emergency exit—this time for good.

  Or so she thought.

  “Please give a warm round of applause for the recipient of a generous donation from Puppy Promise for a service dog and six weeks of personalized training.” The emcee made a big show of looking around the ballroom. At first, Lila thought he was looking for her, but he passed her over, not stopping until his gaze landed on the only other female in the room wearing a sparkling pink ball gown.

  What? She reared back, her mushroom falling to the floor with a splat.

  It wasn’t possible. She’d heard rumors that their donation was going to a nice old man from Cheney. Not him. Not her. Not…

  “A big congratulations to Emily Ford!”

  Chapter 2

  “That’s a terrible shade of lipstick to wear on a beautiful winter morning.” Dawn sat cross-legged at the end of Lila’s bed, watching as she put the finishing touches on her makeup. “Come to think of it, that’s a terrible pantsuit you’ve got on. You look like a cross between a politician and a Golden Girl—and I don’t mean that as a compliment.”

  Lila took a step back and surveyed herself in the mirror. She did look awful, what with her long, dark hair pulled back in a tight bun and her makeup better suited for a jail warden than a day of playing with puppies. When added to the generous features of her face—which she’d always felt were a touch too large for anyone who wasn’t a marble statue—she looked downright medieval.

  “Good.” She clipped the lid on the matte mauve lipstick. “I want to look as blandly professional as possible. If you saw me on the street, what would your first impression be?”

  Dawn tilted her head and considered the question before answering. Her middle sister’s no-nonsense approach to honesty was one of the things Lila loved about her, since she could always count on Dawn to tell her the truth no matter what.

  “I’d say you were trying your hardest to look like the opposite of a princess.”

  Okay. Maybe she didn’t always love the honesty.

  “I do not. The opposite of a princess is a pauper. I don’t look like a pauper.”

  “No, just like the evil villain who created all those paupers in the first place.” Dawn laughed and unfolded herself from the carefully made-up bed. She left all kinds of creases and crinkles behind, but it would have been fruitless to complain. Lila had been complaining for almost three decades, and it never seemed to make the slightest difference.

  As if to prove it, Dawn sidled up next to her and placed her chin on Lila’s shoulder. Everything about the two of them spoke of shared DNA—the wide-set brown eyes, the sandy-toned skin, the way their lips lifted at the corners—but most of the similarities stopped there. Dawn’s dark-brown hair was tousled, her chunky sweater carefree, her personality both those things combined.

  Lila was, well, Lila.

  “The dress wasn’t that bad. I thought you looked sweet. Like a cupcake with frosting and sprinkles and fairy wings on top.” Dawn grinned. “By the way, what’s Prince Charming’s name again? Buick Buick? Porsche Porsche?”

  Lila sighed. It was never a good idea to tell her sister anything related to men. She had a tendency to make mayhem out of molehills. “His name is Ford Ford, and he’s going to be here with Emily any minute. I’m serious about this, Dawn. I need to look prim and untouchable.”

  And, she didn’t need to add, like a woman who’d never even heard the word waltz before.

  Dawn tugged the bottom of Lila’s beige jacket and brushed off her sh
oulders, even though there hadn’t been any time for the suit to gather dust in the five minutes since Lila had pulled it from the deepest recesses of her closet. If she remembered correctly, she’d bought the thing to wear to her college admissions interview. She’d gotten into her first choice school with it, but she’d vowed that nothing short of an appearance in criminal court would get her to wear the sartorial monstrosity again.

  Criminal court or a day spent in a handsome man’s company, apparently. In Lila’s world, they were basically the same thing.

  “I haven’t seen you this nervous since that time you got caught stealing chalk from the principal’s office. Relax. I’m sure no one even noticed what you were wearing.”

  Lila grimaced. On the contrary, she’d never been such an eyesore in her life. Everyone knew she wasn’t a woman who sparkled. Ford Ford needed to see her in her natural element, that was all. Then he wouldn’t laugh at her with those dancing blue eyes. Then he wouldn’t reduce her to an incoherent, blubbering, mortified mess.

  “Just pretend I’m the most dignified person you know, okay?” Lila glanced at the clock on her bedside table. “Oh dear. They’ll be here any minute. What time is Sophie getting in?”

  “She’s not. She’s working on-site with that peanut allergy terrier all week.”

  “Drat.” Lila had been looking forward to their youngest sister joining them for the day. If anyone was like a princess, it was Sophie. Cute, petite, friendly-to-a-fault Sophie was exactly what this situation called for. “I was hoping she could be here to help with Emily. She’s good with kids. Kids love her.”

  “Kids love cotton candy and fart jokes. They’re not complicated.”

  That bit of advice didn’t help nearly as much as it should have. Lila couldn’t remember the last time she’d touched cotton candy, let alone eaten it, and the only joke she knew was the one about the chicken and the road. And even then, she didn’t think she told it right.

  A knock sounded on the front door. Before she could help herself, Lila shot out a hand and grabbed Dawn by the wrist. “You won’t leave me alone with them, will you? Promise you won’t leave me alone with them.”

  Dawn laughed and made an X over her chest with her free hand. “Are you kidding? I’m dying to see what it is about this man that has you so flustered. At this point, wild elephants couldn’t keep me away.”

  * * *

  “Your sister took off in an awful hurry.” Ford stood back and watched as the woman dashed out of the living room with her phone pressed to her ear. “I hope it wasn’t bad news.”

  “I do. I hope it was terrible news. I hope it was news so bleak she won’t be able to lift her head from her pillow for a week.”

  He turned back to Lila with his eyebrows raised, struggling to suppress a smile. No woman had ever uttered an oath with so much vehemence—and with such a strangely charming schoolmarmish air.

  “Uh-oh. You two don’t get along?”

  The schoolmarm frown turned into a scowl. “Not anymore. The traitor.”

  “Daddy does that, too.” Emily popped her thumb out of her mouth. It had been in there all morning, a sure sign that his daughter wasn’t feeling nearly as secure about the day ahead as he’d hoped. A new face was always intimidating for her—a new house doubly so. He’d been half afraid that Emily would take one look at the Vasquez domicile and refuse to cross the threshold, but she’d taken in the quaint spinster furnishings with something akin to pleasure.

  It wasn’t a castle, she’d announced, but it was the next best thing. Ford was inclined to agree.

  “He does what?” Lila asked.

  “Pretends to answer the phone when he doesn’t want to talk to people. How come that lady didn’t want to talk? Doesn’t she like kids?”

  Lila blinked. “I don’t know. I never asked her.”

  “Don’t you like kids?”

  “I don’t know. You’re the first one I’ve ever really met.”

  Ford tensed, prepared for his daughter’s face to crumple in on itself and for the emotional retreat that usually followed interludes of this kind. The amount of rejection his daughter faced on a daily basis was staggering; even the kindest gestures had the potential to cut her down.

  But Lila’s matter-of-fact response only caused her to giggle. “You’re funny. Do I get to pick a puppy now?”

  Lila cast a helpless look in Ford’s direction, making him wish he had a pen and paper on hand. It was impossible to describe that look in words, but he could have captured it in a sketch easily enough. When she’d answered the door, he’d been surprised to find that the soft, floaty princess from the night of the ball had been replaced by a woman in what had to be the ugliest suit known to mankind. Ford was no connoisseur of female clothing—at least, not unless there was a rainbow unicorn emblazoned somewhere on it—but even he knew that something his mother might have worn in the eighties was hardly suitable for a statuesque woman with the most luminous eyes he’d ever seen.

  Strangely enough, the outfit didn’t make her less attractive. If anything, it drew him to her even more. He liked incongruities. He liked knowing there were several different layers to peel off this woman.

  And, no, that wasn’t a sexual innuendo. At least…not entirely.

  “Don’t look at me.” He laughed and stepped back. “I’m new at all this. I was given an address and an order to place myself at your disposal. I’m not ashamed to admit how appealing I found the idea.”

  Her lips pursed. “Listen, Mr. Ford.”

  “Ford.”

  “That’s what I said. Mr. Ford.”

  “You can drop the ‘mister.’ Or the Ford, but that might start to sound strange after a while. I suppose you could also call me Daddy, which is what Emily prefers, but—”

  “Ford!” The schoolmarm pulled up to her full height. “I hardly think that’s an appropriate request, given the circumstances.” As if just realizing that there was a child standing at her knee watching the exchange with rapt attention, Lila drew in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry, Emily.”

  Without so much as a sign of wariness or hesitation, his daughter asked, “What for?”

  It was wrong of him to take so much delight in the wash of expressions that moved over Lila’s stern face, but he couldn’t resist. She hadn’t been joking when she’d said Emily was one of the first kids she’d ever met. He’d never known anyone so obviously far out of her depth.

  “Circumnavigation,” he said.

  She blinked at him, those glorious eyes flashing. “What?”

  “Perpetuity.”

  “Are you feeling okay?”

  “Antidisestablishmentarianism.”

  She cast a quick look around. “Uh…”

  “She’s six years old. Words with more than four syllables and double entendres tend to pass below the radar. I promise you’re safe with me.”

  “Are you telling jokes again, Daddy?” Emily said. Witwhout waiting for an answer, she pulled Lila’s hand into her own. “He always tells jokes to ladies. They think he’s super funny.”

  Lila cast him an arch look, although her face remained pointed at Emily’s. “They do, do they?”

  “He doesn’t tell jokes to Principal Brown, though.”

  “That’s probably for the best.”

  “Or Mrs. Bates. She lives next door.”

  “A model of restraint.”

  “Or Grandma Louise.”

  Lila’s lips twitched in what he suspected was the beginning of a smile. She vanquished it, though, causing a tiny indentation to appear at the corner of her mouth. A dimple. The princess-schoolmarm had a dimple—a tiny crack in an otherwise uncrackable exterior.

  “How old is your principal, Emily?” she asked.

  Ford straightened. He could guess where this was going, and it wouldn’t end well for him. “Oh, well, that’s not really—”

  “Ninety? A hundred? I don’t know. She has gray hairs—lots of ’em.”

  “So he doesn’t tell jokes to older ladies?�
�� Lila asked.

  “Nope.” His little traitor shook her head gravely. “Or ladies with husbands.”

  There was no way to save himself now. Emily, that sweet little soul of discretion, a child who couldn’t look most adults in the face, let alone divulge his greatest sins to them, had betrayed all.

  “Oh, look at that. My phone’s ringing.” He made a show of grabbing his cell phone out of his back pocket and holding it to his ear. “Yes, hello? It’s an emergency? You don’t say. What terrible timing. I guess I’ll have to drop everything and come running.”

  Emily, well versed in his tactics, giggled obligingly. The sound was followed by a low, throaty chuckle that almost caused him to drop the phone.

  That laugh, composed of equal parts phone-sex operator and chain-smoking screen goddess, was the final seal in a devastating turn of events.

  This whole thing should have been a gift from heaven—in fact, it was a gift from heaven—this opportunity to match Emily with a service dog hand-selected and trained specifically for her. Pendred syndrome, the inner-ear disorder she’d been born with, not only impacted her balance and thyroid, but it also placed her in the moderate-to-severe hearing loss range. Cochlear implants helped quite a bit, as did lip reading and the occasional use of sign language, but there was a limit to what science could do for her.

  Ford had done his best to teach his daughter to navigate a world where sound wasn’t always a reliable source of information, but his best had a tendency to fall short of its goal. Emily was bright, hilarious, and everything he had in this world. She was also terrified of anything even a little bit outside her comfort zone.

  So, yes. A service dog was the ideal next step in helping her build her confidence. That was why he’d been prepared for six weeks of hard work. He was ready for the late nights of puppy training and cleanup. He’d even been willing to don a suit and tie and smile at the appropriate benefactors who made all this possible.