“With my big, bad, bare hands,” he confirmed. “And I found a hole that is probably how he got in, which I can easily seal for you. Then we’ll set a humane trap.”
“So I’ll have a live, trapped mouse in my kitchen? Then what?”
“Then I will rescue you again,” he promised, making her stomach do another one of those flips that it did all too often around him.
“I don’t need rescuing.”
He lifted a brow. “Then don’t freak out about a mouse.”
Touché. “Why are you here?”
“To take you to meet Daisy.”
She stared at him, spinning through every possible excuse for why she couldn’t have a dog. But there really wasn’t one except she didn’t do dogs. Even cute little puppies named Daisy. A terrier, he’d said yesterday. Wasn’t Toto a terrier?
“Only to meet her?” she asked.
“And see how you feel about her. But in case you want to bring her back today, I thought I’d check out the house to make sure the house is dog-friendly.”
“I think the owner has a dog she must have taken on her trip.”
“Ziggy, a Maltese,” he said. “But Daisy’s a different breed and we require a house check, even for a temporary situation or a rescue from Waterford. I promise you she’s well behaved. Still, I’ll look around and handle the due diligence since we’re technically boarding her for our sick friend.”
Dog rescuer. Sick-people helper. Mouse remover. He really was the whole package, wasn’t he? Not to mention stone-cold gorgeous. And the way he kissed.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.
Um, out-of-control hormones? “Just wondering…what might she chew?”
“Shoes.”
She blinked in shock. “Expensive ones?”
“If they smell nice and foot-y.”
Oh, God. “The fun never stops with you, does it?”
“Never and you’ll do well to remember that.” He gave a cocky but somehow still-endearing grin. “Keep your shoes behind a closed door. Oh, and you have to be careful with any medication. I’ll check for choking hazards, like window-treatment cords. No wires she could gnaw on, or dangerous substances around like chocolate.”
“Chocolate is dangerous?” She’d bought a giant bar of Godiva that was right out on the kitchen table. Unless the mouse ate it.
“Deadly. Do not ever let a dog eat chocolate. No table food at all,” he said as they walked back in. “It’s best to never let her eat off your plate.”
She coughed softly, making him laugh.
“I guess I don’t have to worry about that with you.”
“But there is chocolate,” she admitted as they got to the kitchen and she pointed at the offending bar, which suddenly looked really out in the open and deadly. And huge.
“You’ll eat that whole thing?” he asked, incredulous.
She shrugged. “I like my chocolate, okay?”
“Okay. But keep it behind a closed door with your expensive shoes. Can I look around?”
“Yes,” she said, finally putting down her 409 and pulling her hair out of the ponytail on a sigh when he disappeared down the hall. “Maybe I’m not the best person for this dog,” she called. “What if I leave chocolate out? Or there’s a stray window cord? Or she brings me a mouse in the middle of the night?” She had to actually stop herself from wailing.
“She’s really a good dog,” he called back. “And you’re only going to dog sit for a month or so, Chloe. Not adopt her.” At her long silence, he added, “Just meet her, okay?”
She let out a sigh. She really did want to see this famous Waterford Farm. And a few hours with Shane wouldn’t exactly be painful.
“You’re good,” he said, coming back to the kitchen. “And I was so right about that underwear drawer.”
She gasped. “You looked?”
He laughed. “You might want to keep the bedroom doors shut since there’s carpet in those rooms. The rest is wood or linoleum, so you’re fine.”
“Don’t tell me. If she chews carpet, she’ll get sick?”
“No, but you will if she pees on your carpet. At least on the wood or linoleum, you can easily wipe it up.”
Her jaw dropped. “The dog is going to pee in my house?”
“Not if you take her outside.” He picked up the 409. “You’ll need something better than this if she does pee. You’ll want to kill the smell.”
“No, I’ll want to kill myself.”
Still laughing, he led her to the door. “Come on, I want you to meet my family.”
She slowed her step. “Like this?” she asked, gesturing toward her shorts, sneakers, and cleaning top. Without a speck of makeup and her hair a wreck?
“It’s a dog farm, Perfect Chloe. We don’t dress up. Although you might want to put jeans on, because Daisy will lick those legs like you’re a human ice cream cone.” He leaned in closer and pressed his strong shoulder against her. “Not that I could blame her.”
She closed her eyes and prayed for whatever she’d need to handle what was ahead. “I’ll change and meet you at your truck.”
* * *
If Chloe was scared of a mouse, how was she going to feel about Daisy?
Shane knew he should at least tell her ahead of time, but something stopped him. Maybe he wanted to see her natural reaction when she saw Daisy and realized she was in the pit bull family. But maybe she had no idea what that meant and she’d immediately see what a great dog she was.
Or maybe Daisy would lick her and Chloe would turn tail and run away in horror.
He needed to know that before he invested one more minute in this woman. Changing the world’s perception of pit bulls was his mission in life, and he did his best to convert every person he met.
Why should she be any different?
“So, how exactly did you go from lawyer to dog trainer?” Chloe asked as Shane drove his truck out of Bitter Bark and headed toward Waterford Farm.
“Easily,” he answered. “I hung up my three-piece suits and law journals and put on boots and treat bags.”
“Do you miss it?”
He’d been asked the question a million times, and the answer never changed. “Not for a minute. I still practice law by handling all the contracts and legalities for Waterford, but I wasn’t cut out to be a litigator.”
“Then why did you go to law school?”
Good damn question. “I’ve always had a thing about injustice. It makes me wild. Things should be fair. Life should be fair. And yet, it so rarely is.”
She looked at him, a question in her eyes. “Has your life been unfair?” she asked.
Just once. Brutally, viciously unfair. But he shoved the thought of his mother’s death away and threw her a playful look, far more comfortable with flirting than letting that hole open up.
“Unfairly good,” he replied. “Do you think that’s why I’m an arrogant bastard?”
“You’re not a bastard.”
He had to laugh at that. “I’m a little cocky, it’s true. But you’re a little obsessed with appearances, so—”
“I am not.”
“Did you or did you not put makeup on when you changed into jeans?”
A slow smile pulled. “I bet you were a good litigator.”
“I was fantastic,” he said. “It wasn’t about being good. It was about being miserable. My last job was as a corporate attorney with FriendGroup in Seattle and, whoa, can we talk about boring? Now I work with my family, and I spend my days around dogs, and I don’t have to suck up to clients or judges or juries.” He waited a beat. “Just tourism experts.”
“You are not sucking up to me,” she countered. “You’re guilting me into taking a dog.”
“No guilt at all, I swear. I’m helping your cause, and you’re helping mine.” He reached his hand over to pat her arm. “I really think you’re going to love Daisy, and if you don’t? I’ll understand.”
Wouldn’t like it. Might not be so hot for her any
more, but he’d understand.
“I am excited to see Waterford Farm. My aunt told me it was your dad’s idea to turn your family home into a dog facility.”
“Everything is my dad’s idea,” he said with a laugh. “That’s why we call him the Dogfather.” He leaned closer and did his best Marlon Brando. “He likes to make you an offer you can’t refuse.”
She chuckled. “That’s hilarious.”
“It would be if it weren’t true. Do you want to know why he backed out of the tourism committee in the first place?”
“Why?” she asked.
“Because he was trying to orchestrate a little get-together with my older brother Liam and the lovely Andi Rivers.”
Her jaw dropped. “Really? Do they know each other?”
“They dated for a little while, but it didn’t work out. Except, my dad hasn’t quite accepted that. He’s on his own mission in life.”
“Which is?”
“Impossible,” he replied. “But ever since we all moved back to Bitter Bark, my father has been on a quest to get all his kids leashed and collared.”
“What does that mean?” She looked confused. “You mean…married?”
“He thinks the world will stop turning if his kids don’t somehow replicate his perfect marriage to my mom.”
“I think that’s sweet.”
“So’s a no-hitter and a hole-in-one. You can’t catch lightning in a bottle ’cause you want to.”
“Oh, cynical, are you?”
“Realistic. But we all humor Dad and let him try.”
“Okay, who’s ‘all’? You said Liam is older than you. Is he the oldest?”
“Yeah, he’s in charge of our K-9 training unit and our protection dogs, which he trains and sells for astronomical sums to rich people who want vicious German shepherds patrolling their estates. He’s the strong, silent, and courageous type. So are his dogs.”
“Duly noted. Will I meet him today?”
“Not sure who’ll be around, but probably you’ll meet Garrett, who’s about a year younger than me, making us genuine Irish twins. He runs all of our rescue operations, handles placement and adoptions. We share a house not far from here or, hell, we used to. I never see him anymore.”
“Why not?”
“He got engaged about a month ago, so he’s always with Jessie, his fiancée. Which is great for him, but sucks for me.”
“Oh? So someone caught that lightning in a bottle. Was your father responsible?”
“He was pulling strings in the background, of course, being the Dogfather.”
“And the others?”
“Going chronologically, there’s Molly, a vet like my dad. And Aidan, who’s in special ops in the Middle East right now, and finally, Darcy. She runs the grooming business when she’s around, which isn’t always. She’s a tumbleweed like you.”
“I love these generalizations you make about me,” she mused. “I’m a germophobe. I’m appearance obsessed. Now I’m a tumbleweed. The fact is, I’m neat, I care what I look like, and I travel for business.”
He angled his head in concession and a silent apology. “So you don’t make generalizations about people?”
“I try not to.”
“What about dogs?” He half held his breath waiting for the answer.
“I don’t know anything about dogs,” she said. “I’ve never had one, never took care of one, never…” She shifted in her seat. “I’ll be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever petted a dog.”
He almost slammed on the brakes out of shock. “You’ve never petted a dog?”
“I told you, I’m not a dog person.”
“But…but…are you even a person? Who hasn’t ever petted a dog?”
“Maybe when I was little,” she said, squirming a bit. “Please don’t make me feel bad about it, Shane. I’m in this truck, and I’m on my way to meet a dog that might live with me. Do you know how huge that is for me?”
Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he should. “This is more than just getting old Bitter Bark to buy your idea, isn’t it? More than just proving something to me.”
He watched her swallow. “Every once in a while,” she said slowly, “I realize that I need to break a barrier. It’s not easy for me. It’s not natural for me. But if I can do it, I feel…better.”
“Oooh.” He let out a long, low sigh. “Then I’ll tell you right now she’s a Staffordshire terrier.”
She didn’t react, but that made sense. A lot of people didn’t know the official names of certain dogs. “That sounds British. Like something curled at the queen’s feet.”
Exactly what a non-dog person would think. “You might be thinking of a corgi or Cavalier King Charles. Actually, Daisy’s a little different.”
“In what way?”
“You’ll see.” He reached the front gates of Waterford and made the turn into the big drive. When he parked the car, he put his hand on her shoulder. “For what it’s worth, Chloe, I like a woman who can break a barrier.”
“I’m not doing this for you,” she said. “I’m doing this for me. And Daisy.”
He let that hit his heart. Hard. Damn. Now he really liked her.
Chapter Seven
Chloe looked at Waterford Farm through the eyes of a tourism expert, and it was a dream. The property just got prettier and prettier. From the classic entrance that led to a winding paved road lined with oak and maple trees, right up to a lovely buttercream-colored farm-style house with a row of charming dormers and green shutters on every window. The whole place had a quintessential Southern magic that made her want to swing on a glider with a glass of sweet tea.
“You do run tours through here, I hope,” she said to Shane as they parked in a wide circular drive that already had a collection of trucks, cars, and one particularly mangy yellow Jeep.
“Not usually. Clients come to check the place out all the time, and we get a lot of professional trainers, therapy trainers, and law enforcement.”
They walked around a huge grassy area to the back, where she could see that the house was built on a slight rise, overlooking acres dotted with clapboard buildings, that looked like they might be kennels, classrooms, and a small veterinarian office. Beyond the circle of buildings were more grassy areas with several dogs wandering about, some taking commands from people she assumed were trainers, some lying in the sun by themselves.
The entire facility was surrounded by rolling hills, woods, trails, and a large pond that sparkled in the sunshine.
“Shane,” she said, unable to hide the awe in her voice. “This is absolutely beautiful.”
“Thanks.” He looked around, as if seeing it through her eyes. “It’s home, of course, because I grew up here. But it also represents so much hard work and sweat equity. Sometimes I forget how damn nice the place is.”
“You could make it a real travel destination.”
“Not sure that’s what we want to do, but I’ll let you take that up with my dad. You know.” He gave her a playful elbow. “The old guy.”
“I prefer to think of him as the Dogfather,” she replied. “And I really hope he loves the idea.”
“He might, the way you present it. Anyway”—he gestured toward the central penned in area—“this is our main training ground,” he said. “All the dogs on-site spend some time here every day, or in one of the smaller pens. And over there are the kennels, where all the dogs, no matter why they’re here, live, eat, and sleep. Want to go meet Daisy?”
“Sure.” But she slowed her step as they headed to the kennels. “Shane, what if she senses that I’m not, you know, a dog person? They can pick that up, right?”
He shrugged. “Dogs are super sensitive, and they’ll smell fear or any kind of trepidation.”
“Should I be afraid of her?”
“God, no.” He put an arm around her, pulling her closer to a place that was warm, strong, and solid, leading her forward. “I would never give you a dog that might hurt you. I talked to my brother about it last night,
and he agrees that Daisy needs to be in a home and yours is perfect. You even have a fenced-in backyard.”
She nodded, giving in to the comfort of his voice and strong body.
“How many dogs are usually here at one time?” she asked as they passed the training pen.
“It varies. We give training classes for individuals with dogs, and we also bring in classes of people who want certification to become trainers. And we have special programs for therapy dogs. If all those are in full swing, we could have thirty or more dogs boarding here or coming through for day classes. Liam’s law enforcement dogs come with police officers and sheriff’s deputies for training, and he always has one or two German shepherds he’s training for high-protection duty. Plus the rescues.”
As they reached the entrance to the kennels, the door popped open, and a tan and white dog came bounding out right at them, making Chloe leap back in shock.
“Down, Lola!” Shane ordered the dog, who immediately fell to her haunches and looked up at him, all obedience.
“Lola!” Another man called from inside the kennel, coming out with a woman with shoulder-length red hair, the two of them laughing at something. “Hey, Shane,” the man said. “Jessie and I were checking on Daisy. I hope this is her foster mom, ’cause she’s itching to get out of that kennel.”
The man gave Chloe a wide smile that nearly matched Shane’s. He had deep-blue eyes and long black hair that fell over the collar of his shirt, but the stamp of brotherhood was easy to see.
“Liam or Garrett?” she guessed.
“I’m Garrett.” He shook her hand, then gestured to the woman next to him. “This is Jessie Curtis, my fiancée.”
“Hi, Garrett, Jessie. I’m Chloe Somerset and….” She smiled at the dog who was still sitting, waiting for a command. “I take it that this isn’t Daisy?” Which was too bad, because this dog looked so sweet and…clean.
“Oh, no,” Jessie said. “This is Lola. She’s all mine.” At the sound of her name, the dog stood and gave her full attention to Jessie. “That’s right. All mine.” Jessie bent over and hugged the dog’s head, adding a kiss. Full contact, lips on fur.
New Leash on Life (The Dogfather Book 2) Page 7