New Leash on Life (The Dogfather Book 2)

by Roxanne St Claire

  “Oh, honey. Three people talked to me at church today, and they don’t even work in town. Word is out.”

  Chloe brought coffee for both of them and sat across from her. “That’s not good,” she said. “I don’t want the town council to make up its mind before I’ve had a chance to go in there and wow them.”

  “And they will,” Blanche agreed. “So I’d like to call an emergency council meeting this week, maybe as soon as Tuesday or Wednesday.”

  “Okay,” Chloe said. “I was planning to really fine-tune that presentation for a bigger crowd, and I’ll get that done tomorrow.”

  “And you should take any time before that to make some friends, too,” Blanche said. “I’m going to send you a list of who’s on the town council and where they work, or where their spouses or kids work. Your idea is fantastic, but you’re also selling yourself in a town like this.”

  She smiled. “Shane said the same thing.”

  Blanche’s brow lifted. “I heard you were dancin’ mighty close to Shane Kilcannon last night.”

  Chloe felt her eyes pop wide in shock, making Blanche chuckle.

  “Changing the name of the town wasn’t the only thing folks were talking about at church,” Blanche said with a teasing smile.

  “Wha…we…I….” Chloe had to laugh at her own inability to form a defense. “I ran into him at Bushrod’s.”

  Blanche gave a pretend toast with her mug. “Listen to you, knowing what the locals call the Bitter Bark Bar.”

  “I’m trying,” she assured Blanche. “And I’ll do my best this week to stop into every place I can. Should I presell my idea? Talk about it openly?”

  “Hard to say.” Blanche frowned, gnawing on her lower lip and slowly turning toward where Daisy lay. When Daisy felt Blanche’s gaze, she stood up and trotted over and practically begged for a little love. “But maybe you don’t have to do any talking,” Blanche said, reaching out to scratch the brown patch on Daisy’s head. “Daisy can do it for you.”

  Chloe smiled. “How’s that?”

  “If people in this town could see this dog wandering into stores and shops, looking like she could be dangerous, but acting like a sweet little puppy? You’re going to go a long way to alleviating issues and fears.”

  Chloe sat up, thinking about how Shane had said she needed a partner. “You don’t think someone at the Bitter Bark Bakery would recoil if I walked in with Daisy?”

  Blanche looked hard at her. “That’s the whole point, honey. In five minutes, they’d see she’s sweet and harmless. Of course, you’d have her on a leash and she’d obey your every command.”

  “She’d obey Shane’s every command,” Chloe said. “I’m still learning.”

  “Then bring Shane,” Blanche said with a playful gleam in her eye. “From what I heard in church, that won’t be a hardship.”

  “Don’t people pray at church?”

  “And we ‘fellowship,’ which means a lot of discussion about who was dancing with whom at Bushrod’s.”

  Chloe laughed and rolled her eyes. “I’ll talk to Shane and see if he thinks it’s a good idea. I wouldn’t want Daisy to do something that would blow up in my face.”

  As if she understood, Daisy dropped to the ground at Chloe’s feet and rolled over, practically begging for a belly rub and making Blanche laugh heartily.

  “Like tear people’s hearts out with her cuteness?” Blanche asked. “I know this town, Chloe. Daisy could be our secret weapon to winning the Better Bark battle.”

  Chloe couldn’t help it. She bent over and stroked the smooth belly exposed in front of her. Daisy’s head rolled from side to side, and Chloe could have sworn she was smiling.

  “Careful you don’t make her pee,” Blanche said.

  Chloe jerked her hand back with a gasp, and Blanche laughed again, then her smile faded. “This is very good for you, Chloe.”

  “Good?” She looked up from the dog and met the blue eyes of a woman who’d sometimes been a real mother to her. Not often, because Mom hadn’t liked when Aunt Bland, as she’d called her older sister, would swoop into Little Fork and announce she was taking Chloe on a “special goddaughter weekend.”

  “Good that you can, you know, let go.” Blanche angled her head. “It doesn’t make you like your mother if you don’t have complete control of everything.”

  Chloe swallowed at Blanche’s rare mention of Mom. She’d never criticize her sister, but she knew why Chloe clung to control. She’d seen the mess. The filth. The trash of life with a hoarder.

  “Trust me, Aunt Blanche, control has been slipping away since I set foot in Bitter Bark.”

  “And how do you feel about that?”

  “A little thrilled. And terrified.”

  Blanche nodded and gave Chloe’s hand an encouraging pat. “That’s normal, dear.”

  Good. Because normal was all Chloe wanted to be in the whole world.

  Chapter Eleven

  Take Daisy in and out of businesses all over Bitter Bark? Shane slowly shook his head when Chloe told him this plan on the way to Waterford.

  “You think it’s a terrible idea?” she asked.

  “It’s so brilliant, I can’t believe I didn’t think of it myself.”

  She laughed. “That would be high praise for any idea.”

  “I did suggest she be your partner, but I was thinking some walks in the park, maybe stop and talk to some people. But, yeah, you take her into shops and restaurants. We’ll know who’s going to fight it and who’s on our side.”

  “Our side.” She reached over and put her hand on his arm. “Thanks for being on mine.”

  “How could I not?” Easily, he reminded himself for the tenth time that morning. He was digging himself deeper every minute with this woman, and like a crazed dog with a hole, he couldn’t stop. Sex wasn’t guaranteed. And messing with her, like he wanted to at first, had started…messing with him. “The whole idea of a dog-friendly town can only help Waterford,” he added, as if that were his excuse for staying so close to her.

  “Well, it’s good to have the support of the whole Kilcannon family.”

  “Uh, not so fast. You still haven’t met Gramma Finnie.”

  She blinked at him. “You don’t think your grandmother will like the idea? I understand she’s an institution around here.”

  “An institution in Bitter Bark and an Internet sensation with a blog and Twitter account that make her an official old Irish lady celebrity.”

  “That’s right, so I really do want to present the idea to her today.”

  “Unless she knows already,” he said. “If you were the talk of the ten-thirty service at the Presbyterian church, then you were probably on the lips as much as communion at the Catholic Mass. Gramma Finnie’ll tell us.”

  She nodded, thinking about that. “If the idea is good for Waterford, why wouldn’t your grandmother like it?”

  He pulled his truck into the drive and didn’t see any other cars, so they were first. “She tells a story—well, she tells a lot of stories, so brace yourself. She also speaks in Irish proverbs and with a pretty thick brogue.”

  “Okay. What’s the story?”

  He laughed a little, thinking of the thousand or so times he’d heard it. “I’m sure she’ll tell you one of many variations she has,” he said. “But the short version is that when she and my grandfather came here from Ireland in the fifties, they drove into Bitter Bark, saw the sign, and the setter du jour—Kilcannons always have one—started howling off-key. Gramma called it a ‘bitter bark’ and decided it meant they’d found their forever home.”

  “Oh, that’s so sweet.”

  He chuckled. “The first hundred times you hear it, yeah.”

  He parked and climbed out, and Daisy jumped up and barked, but stayed in the truck bed.

  “And you think that emotional tie to the town’s name would be a reason she’d be opposed to changing it?” Chloe asked as she got out of the passenger side.

  “It’s possible.”
>
  “Wait, wait.” Chloe came sprinting around the truck to where he was. “Let me tell Daisy to get out of the truck,” she requested. “I want her to listen to me.”

  “Okay. Hit it.” He pulled down the tailgate.

  “Do I need a treat?”

  “Probably not. Remember, eyes, command, then name, maybe snap your fingers, if you like. Reward her with a big hug and kiss.”

  She threw him a look.

  “Okay, a little hug and pretend kiss.”

  She stood right in front of Daisy and locked gazes. “Daisy. Down.” She snapped, and the dog jumped out, barked once, and looked only a little bit more proud of herself than Chloe did.

  “Reward,” he reminded her.

  She took a breath and bent over, awkwardly rubbing Daisy’s head. “Good girl,” she murmured, then wiped her hand on her crisp, ironed khaki shorts.

  “My little dog whisperer,” he teased, giving Chloe’s hair a playful rub like he would a favorite pet. Keeping it light, as he’d promised himself last night when he went to bed aching for what he hadn’t had. He wanted to be around her, but if she needed things to be platonic, fine.

  Maybe better even, considering the way she managed to get under his skin and he didn’t seem to knock so much as an eyelash out of place for her.

  “Hardly a dog whisperer,” she said. “But we did okay, right, Daisy? She slept on that dog bed in my room and, wow, does this dog snore.”

  “Better watch out, Chloe. Next thing you know, she’ll be eating off your plate.”

  She gave a throaty laugh, the sound somehow playful and sexy at the same time. “That would be my line in the sand. Unless…” She gave him a questioning look. “Would that win your grandmother’s heart?”

  “Like I said, she could go either way,” he said. “Gramma Finnie is a stubborn old Irish woman with a lifelong connection to this town. Just give her a chance to get to know you.” He put an arm around her and pulled her close to encourage her and also because he couldn’t keep his freaking hands off her. “She’s going to like you.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I do.” Oh man, he was killing it with the keep it light technique. Too bad. He tucked her closer, nestling his nose in her hair to inhale the fresh fragrance of it and whisper the rest. “Should never have left you last night,” he confessed.

  He felt her shudder at the admission. “Shane, you’re going to complicate things.”

  “I like complicated.”

  She slowed her step. “And when I disappear and go to Roatán?”

  “That’s where you’re off to next? Some two-bit Caribbean island?”

  “Might not be two-bit when I’m done.”

  “Fine, fine. I’ll take what I can get,” he said, not nearly as casually as he’d have liked. “Couple of days. Couple of weeks. Couple of…nights.”

  She looked hard at him, her gaze as serious as he’d ever seen her. “Let’s get the town council vote first.”

  “That’s what it’s going to take?” He drew back, feigning shock. “Chloe Somerset, is there no end to your bribery and corruption?”

  “I’m not bribing you,” she said, elbowing him. “I’m setting a timeline.”

  “By telling me I can sleep with you if I influence everyone on the town council to vote in favor of Better Bark?” He crossed his arms and shook his head. “That is bribery.”

  A soft flush darkened her cheeks. “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t not say that.” Holding on to that, and her, he led her into the side kitchen door, pausing for a second before he opened it, bracing for what he knew was going to hit his heart.

  “Shane?” Chloe asked, slowing her step when he did. “Are you okay?”

  How could he answer that? How could he tell her that every single time he opened this door and walked into this house, the familiar and unwelcome smack of grief almost knocked him over? Not outside on the farm, not anywhere else, and not usually when he had to run into Dad’s office or get something from the house.

  But Sunday dinners without Mom? It usually took a few minutes and a Bloody Mary to bury emotions that threatened to ruin the day.

  “Fine,” he told her, pushing the thoughts away with the same ease that he breathed every day. “Just want to be sure you know that my dad gives the housekeeper the day off, so it’s more about the company than the food.”

  “That’s fine,” she said. “I’m happy to be here.”

  “Yeah, me, too,” he lied. “I’m happy you’re here.” But that wasn’t a lie. Not in the least.

  A minute later they were in the kitchen, greeting Dad, getting Daisy acclimated, and settling in on the empty barstools in front of the kitchen island where Dad was cooking.

  “It smells delicious,” Chloe said, looking around. “And this is a beautiful home.”

  “Thanks to my dearly departed wife,” Dad said, setting down the chef’s knife he was using to chop carrots.

  That didn’t take long, Shane thought.

  “I grew up in this home,” Dad continued. “And this kitchen was little more than a corner in the house, though it functioned. After Annie and I had a few kids, and we took over ownership, my parents moved to town and my wife got the remodeling bug and never stopped fixing up this or gutting that. Took down all the walls and added this fancy granite.” He gave an expansive gesture. “She was the real cook, though.”

  Shane heard the hitch in his father’s voice, reminding him that he wasn’t the only one who missed Mom on Sundays. And that reminded him that if a man doesn’t let himself get too far gone in love, he never has to have his throat close up when he thinks about her.

  “Did you make Bloodies, Dad?” Shane asked, pushing away from the island.

  “In a pitcher in the fridge.” He added a wink to Chloe. “Sunday Bloody Marys are another tradition.”

  “We’re Irish,” Shane said. “Drinking is a tradition.”

  “Traditions are nice,” she mused, resting her chin on her palm.

  “Did you have them in your family when you were growing up?” Dad asked.

  As Shane brought the pitcher from the refrigerator, he stole a glance at Chloe and could have sworn she paled. “Not too terribly many,” she said. “I was raised by a single mother, and we just kind of got by.”

  “And now you live in Miami, right?” Dad looked pleased with himself. “See? I was paying attention at my first meeting of that committee.”

  “Amazing,” Shane said, coming around the island to stand next to his father and steal two celery stalks for their drinks. “Considering you spent that meeting trying to figure out a way for Liam to take your place next to Andi Rivers.”

  Dad chuckled, knife in action again, knowing he was busted for his matchmaking ways. “I’ve always liked that young woman.”

  “I like her, too,” Chloe said. “I had dinner with her last night.”

  “And then…” Shane leaned into his father. “Andi left Bushrod’s on the arm of your oldest son.”

  Dad stopped chopping, and his eyes grew wide. “Really.”

  “All without your help,” Shane teased.

  “Well, he was here in the kennels before the sun came up, working with Jag and, whoa, he was in a foul mood,” Dad said. “Liam, not Jag.”

  “How could you tell that from his normal mood?” Shane joked, but deep inside, his gut wrenched for his brother. Foul mood meant no dice with Andi, and Liam really liked her. He’d barely looked at another woman since Andi broke up with him and it had to be two years now.

  “So maybe I made the right decision not sending Liam to the committee,” his father mused, looking deliberately from Shane to Chloe.

  Shane rolled his eyes. “This one’s all me, Pops. Although the Dogfather will no doubt take credit.”

  Chloe laughed. “I heard about that nickname.”

  “Irish style,” he joked, eyeing them both. “And you two make a fine couple.”

  “Oh, we’re not…” Now she was
uncomfortable, shifting on the stool.

  “Chloe’s a temporary addition to our town,” Shane said, helping her out. “But I’m happy to help her win the Better Bark cause.”

  “Ah, yes, the name change,” Dad said, lifting his dark brows. “What an idea, young lady.”

  “Do you like it?” she asked.

  “Very much,” he assured her. “A family that can travel with their dog is a happy family indeed.”

  “That’s what I was thinking and why it makes so much sense from a tourism standpoint.”

  “When’s the council meeting?” Dad asked. “I’ll want to call in a few favors.”

  “Call them in fast,” Shane said. “They moved it up to Tuesday or Wednesday of this week.”

  “Any advice for me?” Chloe asked.

  Dad thought about that, scraping his chopped veggies into a large pan. “It’s a big council,” he said. “Maybe thirteen on it now? They’ll all love you.”

  “We’re hoping they love Daisy,” Chloe said. “My aunt thinks I should be taking her into local businesses around the square to meet people and make them fall in love.”

  Dad looked up, nodding. “Good idea. She’s a great dog.”

  “And she could go a long way to dispelling some really stupid preconceptions,” Shane added.

  Dad gave him a sharp look, but just then, Molly’s twelve-year-old daughter, Pru, came in. Chloe turned to greet them, but Dad leaned closer to Shane. “You can’t change the world’s opinion, Son,” he said under his breath.

  He didn’t get a chance to argue that as the whirlwind that was Prudence Kilcannon blew deeper into the kitchen, swirling around Chloe. “Oh, you must be the tourism lady. Mom and I were talking about you on the way home from church. And your big doggie idea.”

  “Chloe, this is my niece, Pru,” Shane said. “And if you want to get on my grandmother’s good side, this is your girl.”

  “Hi, Pru,” Chloe said.

  “Oh, everyone’s right,” Pru said, openly assessing the new arrival. “You do look like Vanessa on The Bachelor.”