“I don’t know, Cass.” Sarah swatted at a fly hovering around the rim of her bottle. “I think my office is beyond the help even someone of your organizational genius can fix.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Pulling her phone from her pocket, Cassie opened up her calendar. “I’m free this week. I’ll come over and analyze your space. But if you can accomplish your goals just by reorganizing, it will save you the expense of a larger rent and a move.”
Saving money always appealed to Sarah. Especially as her credit card was currently in a fetal position weeping from the purchase of her dad’s present.
A nerf football smacked into her stomach, and her beer sloshed onto her T-shirt. “Connor!” She didn’t even have to see his grin to know who was responsible.
He climbed the deck and strode to her. He pulled her up, grabbed Cassie’s phone from her hand, and pulled her to her feet, too. “It’s cake and presents time, ladies. Off your butts.”
If she could have reached to hit him upside the head, Sarah would have. But he’d outgrown her hand range by the time he’d hit fifteen. So she elbowed him in the stomach instead. “You made me spill my beer. Major party foul.”
“Beer doesn’t pair with red velvet cake anyway. I’ll get you a nice glass of milk.” He side-stepped her next swing, laughing. “Come on. I can’t wait for dad to see what Joe and I got him. It’s going to have him banging around in the garage from dawn till dusk.”
“But Brad is living there now.” With five teenagers screaming at each other, their father had remodeled the detached garage years ago, adding an apartment above to give their family more space. Brad had moved back home and into the garage apartment after his accident.
“I know.” Connor rubbed his hands together with glee. “Lots of noise. The fastest way to get rid of unwanted house guests. That’s Dad’s real present.”
Sarah shook her head as she smoothed the rolled edge on Connor’s collar. “Always vying to be dad’s favorite.”
“I’m sure Brad helps out with the house,” Cassie said.
Sarah arched an eyebrow. Her friend was the last person to defend her brother. Something had happened during their childhood to make Brad her “arch enemy” as Cassie called him. Something she wouldn’t tell even Sarah. It was the only thing Cass wouldn’t tell Sarah.
Which was just rude. But her friend said she didn’t want her issues with Brad to affect Sarah’s relationship with him.
Cassie’s cheeks flushed pink. “With all his faults, he’s not the type to sit on his butt and let someone else take care of him.”
Conner wisely ignored that. “What’d you get Dad?” he asked Sarah.
She rocked up onto her toes. “You’ll see. But he’s going to love it.” She’d thought long and hard about her dad’s sixtieth birthday present. It was a teensy bit extravagant, but he deserved it. She couldn’t wait to see his reaction.
She shoveled in her slice of cake, then helped bring the gifts in, putting them by her dad’s chair. Hers was on the top of the stack. “You done with your cake, yet?” She tugged the paper plate from his hand.
“There were still two bites left on there.” He held up an icing smudged plastic fork, and took aim at the crumbs. Sarah took the fork and threw that away, too.
He shook his head. “I guess I’ll open presents now.” He picked up hers, a small, square box dwarfed by a blue, silk bow. He pulled out a pocket knife to neatly slice through the wrapping.
Sarah held her breath.
A crease lined her dad’s forehead before his eyes shot wide. She waited for excitement to light up his face, but he only blinked, and lifted his gaze to her.
“Don’t you like it?” She wiped her damp palms against her shorts.
Reaching into the box, he pulled out a set of keys, a photograph, and a registration card. “You bought me a speedboat.”
“You always liked that one you used to have when we were kids.” Her heart sank as he continued to stare at her. He should be excited. Hugging her. Planning his first trip out on the waves. “And I know how much you like being on the water. I thought…” She cleared her throat. “I thought you’d like it.”
Brad muttered, “figures,” and her shoulders inched toward her ears.
“I do like it, honey. She looks like a beautiful boat from her picture.” He replaced the paper and the keys in the box and closed the lid. “But it’s more than I want you to spend on me. Thank you for the thought, though. I appreciate it. But let’s see about returning this.”
“I’m doing okay, Dad.” Sarah tried to save the moment. To show her father just how much he meant to her. “You deserve it.”
He gave her a reassuring smile that did nothing to stop the ice spreading across her chest. He picked up another present and gave the crowd a wide grin. “My kids are really something, wouldn’t you say? Very generous.”
Their friends laughed and applauded as he made his way through the stack of gifts. Sarah watched, numb, as her dad unwrapped books, two bottles of scotch, a gag apron. Small mementos that meant something to him. They were all gifts her dad seemed to love. They were appropriate.
She’d done it again. Tried to make someone happy with a big gesture or gift.
It never seemed to come out right.
Connor jostled Joe aside, and pulled their dad to his feet. “Come on. Our gift is in the garage.”
“The garage?” Brad swung his head between the twins. “I didn’t see you put anything in there.”
“We snuck it in after you’d left,” Joe said. “We didn’t want you to ruin the surprise.”
Brad frowned, but said nothing. The party moved to the driveway, everyone watching as Conner threw open the garage door. A large object covered in a blue tarp sat in the middle of the open space. With Brad living upstairs, their dad had stopped parking his car inside.
Joe and Connor each grabbed an end of the tarp and flung it back, proud smiles on their faces. “Ta da!” Connor shouted.
Sarah tilted her head. It was a car, she supposed. One that would look more at home in a junk yard. After it had gone through a demolition machine.
Her dad stepped forward and ran his hand over a rusted bit of metal. “A ’69 Mustang,” he said, his voice as reverent as a preacher in church.
“Yep.” Connor slipped his thumbs into his jean belt loops. “A Mach 1.”
Joe clapped their dad on the shoulder. “We know you used to have one, before you were married.”
“Before mom made you sell it because it wasn’t a family car.” Connor repeated the old family joke, twisting his lips.
“And you always talk about wanting to learn how to restore cars.” Joe bent over and picked up a large tool box next to the empty tire well of the Mustang. “So, have at it.”
Their dad whooped and brought each of the twins into a side-hug. The delight on his face was clear.
Another shard of ice dug into Sarah’s heart. Her dad wouldn’t accept a beautiful speedboat in almost-new condition but he loved this heap of scrap metal? It wasn’t a gift. It was a ten-year commitment that the twins had probably picked up for spare change.
Brad gritted his teeth. “You bought him a car to restore. In the garage. Right below me.”
Connor widened his eyes. “A car like this has to be protected from the elements. I’m sure dad will want to work on it, day and night. That’s not going to bother you, is it?”
Brad’s growl was drowned out by people spilling into the garage to ooh and aah over the rust bucket.
Sarah took the chance to slip away.
Finding her purse in the living room, she made her way down the drive and into the street where her car was parked. No one noticed her leave.
Gripping the steering wheel, she sped down the street, the back of her eyes burning. Now she understood her need to meet her biological father. She had a great family. She loved each and every one of them.
But she was tired of feeling like the outsider. O
f feeling unappreciated, misunderstood. Maybe her biological father would provide a connection she hadn’t yet found.
Her phone buzzed with an incoming text.
She swiped her fingers under her eyes. The animal shelter wanted her to come down to check out a new dog, and she couldn’t think of anything better to take her mind off her petty problems. She made her way to the facility the next town over.
“Thanks for doing this,” Kathleen, the shelter manager said. “Our vet is in Tahoe, and we just found this girl in a foreclosed house. She’s way too skinny and a little pissy.”
“Dogs get hangry, too.” Sarah followed the woman to a stall in the back. A German Shepherd raised her head, curled her upper lip, then huffed out a breath and sank back down.
Kathleen shook her head. “We’re short-staffed today. Someone hasn’t replaced the leash and muzzle.” She pointed to an empty hook by the cage’s door. “I’ll go get it and be right back.”
“Hi, girl.” Sarah hooked her fingers in the chain link gate as the manager’s footsteps receded. “You don’t need a muzzle, do you? Just a little love and proper care.”
The dog gave Sarah her back.
Encouraged with the mild response, Sarah unlatched the door and eased inside, closing it behind her. She sat with against the wall, wanting to make the dog comfortable with her presence. “I bet you’ll have no problem getting adopted by a good family. With a little more meat on your bones, you’ll be gorgeous and sweet.”
The dog grumbled but allowed Sarah to scoot an inch closer.
Frantic barking erupted down the hall.
“Your roommates don’t sound like happy campers.”
The barking got louder.
Sarah frowned. “What is going on?”
Claws scrabbled on cement. Kathleen shouted from another room. And a pack of snarling dogs rounded the corner and charged toward their stall.
Sarah rolled to her feet. “What the heck? Kathleen!” But her voice couldn’t be heard over the barking.
One of the dogs threw its body at the gate. Another nipped at the chain-link. And a third put his nose to the ground and started sniffing.
The German Shepherd struggled to her feet and growled.
“I agree.” Sarah watched as another dog pressed against the cage. She didn’t know if she’d be able to open the gate with all the dogs against it. “These dudes are annoying, but they can’t hurt you.”
The German Shepherd prowled toward Sarah, her growl going deeper.
“Oh.” She bit her lip. “Am I the one annoying you?’ She took a step back, another, until she was pressed against the gate. The dog who was furiously sniffing the floor found something of particular interest by Sarah’s feet.
With a yip, he gave Sarah a tongue-lolling smile.
And lifted his leg.
“Oh, no.” She swung her head to the German Shepherd who advanced a step closer. Back to the dogs who now all wanted in on smelling whatever was on the floor.
And screeched as the first jet of urine hit her.
Chapter Four
James stumbled over the uneven earth, stopping on the narrow path on the bluff. Bending over at the waist, he sucked in a deep breath of salt-licked air. He liked to keep fit, but running wasn’t his exercise of choice. Racquetball or hoops at the gym was a hell of a lot more fun, but Shelter Bay didn’t have a gym. So he ran. Somedays, he wanted to keep running, not stop at the town limits, keep pounding away at the earth, and never turn back.
A bench overlooking the ocean stood thirty feet away, and James trotted over to it and plopped down. The bluffs across from Main Street had been designated a state park, and narrow trails wound through fields of wildflowers and along the cliffs overlooking the Pacific.
A gust of cool wind mussed his hair. He pushed it out of his eyes. He had to admit, as much as he loved living in San Francisco, the northern California coast had its appeals. Yes, in the Bay Area he could find hiking trails with stunning vistas, as well, but not without battling traffic and crowds to get there.
Looking over his shoulder, his chest tightened at the sight of the row of historic buildings that made up the main drag of Shelter Bay. It was only four blocks long, and instead of a Starbucks, drug stores, and banks, the typical establishments that made up a regular city’s downtown, Shelter Bay held a hand-made soap store, a combination bookstore and teahouse, an old-fashioned pharmacy/candy store. It was so quaint, it looked like a movie set.
James missed the skyscrapers and noise of San Francisco.
He faced forward. A wave crashed against the cliff face across from the small inlet below him. The ocean looked as pissed off as James was feeling. The buzz of his cell phone didn’t improve his mood.
The home health care aide he’d hired to help watch his father was texting him. Again. James cracked his neck, and replied. Yes, he’d pick up more dog food on the way home.
Shoving his phone back in his exercise arm band, he blew out a breath. He’d hired the home aide to give him breaks, but his dad pestered the poor woman until she bothered James as much as his father did.
When the doctor had told James his father would survive his heart attack, he’d thought they were through the worst of it. He hadn’t realized his father would need constant care. Someone to monitor his medications, remind him to eat. James didn’t know if the brain cloud was a consequence of the attack or merely old age, but he did know that even though his dad was physically recovered enough where James could go back home, mentally he wasn’t.
His family leave was coming to an end. His firm had been understanding, but that only lasted to a point. They were down a CPA, and his co-workers couldn’t keep covering his clients.
Decisions had to be made.
James’s skin cooled. The ocean breeze dried his sweaty body, making him clammy.
James stood, stretched out his calves, and headed back. His pace going back to his dad’s house wasn’t nearly as fast as when he’d left it. He jogged through the break in the low wooden fence that bordered the park, across Main Street and up Eucalyptus. He passed the volunteer fire station and the New Day Café before hitting the residential neighborhood. The sidewalk rose, the small hills tugging at his leg muscles. He was almost at his dad’s when he remembered the dog food.
Blowing out a breath, he turned back toward the shopping center at the corner of Main and State Road 1.
The small strip mall held a gas station, rock store, and, his target, a pet store.
Bypassing the carts out front, James went straight to the aisle with Ginger’s food and tossed the large bag of kibble over his shoulder. He turned, then paused. At the end of the aisle was Dr. Sarah Martineau, biting her plump bottom lip, her gaze flicking between two bags of cat food.
His bag slid down his shoulder and almost hit the floor before his arms started working again and caught it. Gone were the baggy scrubs and shapeless white coat. Tight black yoga pants stretched across one fine ass. A cotton tank top dipped low on her back, her long golden braid traversing toned shoulders. Picking up dogs all day must be a great workout. That blasted lab coat had hidden a jackpot of a body. If he’d known what lie beneath it, he might have tried harder to be charming.
“Dr. Martineau.” He stopped behind her, and wrinkled his nose. He sniffed. That smell couldn’t be coming from her. She turned around, and he took a small step back.
“Oh, hi. James, wasn’t it?” A smile stretched her lips, looking as tired and worn as James’s college sweatshirt. “Food for Ginger?”
The bag crackled as he hefted it higher up his shoulder. “The only brand my dad will feed him. He used to feed me beans and franks, but nothing is too good for his dog.”
The edges of her eyes crinkled. She had beautiful eyes. A blend of warm browns, hints of gold making them sparkle. He wanted to lean in, his body itching to get closer. But his nose had another opinion. She was too tiny to have an odor that big. He breathed through his mouth.
“Don’t feel bad.” Dropping to a squat, her pants rode down her back, giving him a glimpse of purple cotton and a couple of inches of pale skin between her top and panties. She picked up an economy-sized bag of the most expensive cat food, and stood, holding it tight to her stomach. “That’s a fairly common phenomenon. It’s easy to treat pets better than people. They give you unconditional love.”
Her breasts plumped over the top edge of her tank, and his mouth watered. Or was that his eyes? How could one person be so sexy and so repellant at the same time? “I don’t mean to be rude, but you do realize that you smell. Really badly.”
Sarah’s mouth rounded in surprise. Her cheeks flamed red, and she took a step back before grinding her jaw. “Thanks for the update. I was born without a sense of smell so I never would have known.” Spinning around, she stalked around the end of the aisle.
He jogged to catch up with her. “Don’t be insulted. I’m just stating a fact. I’m assuming this isn’t your usual smell.” Reaching over her shoulder, he tugged the bag of food out of her grasp, and tucked it under his arm.
She pressed her lips together. “Just because you tell someone not to be insulted doesn’t give you license to be offensive.”
They paced to the back of the line. The woman in front of Sarah sniffed the air, gave them a side-long glance, and sidled forward to the heels of the man in front of her.
“Yeah, I don’t think I’m the offensive one right now,” James said. “So, what happened?” His nose was starting to deaden to the smell, thank God.
Sighing, she dug a credit card out of a small pocket at the hip of her pants. “I was visiting the local shelter and there was…a small mishap.”
He waited. He’d been told his silences could intimidate even the most bloodthirsty of auditors into babbling babies.
She flipped the plastic card around in one hand. She held her tongue a good thirty seconds before the quiet became too much. “The shelter just got a new dog in today, and I went to check her out. Turned out she was in heat. Several male dogs got loose and rushed the stall where she and I were. The gate was closed, so they couldn’t get to her, but she must have urinated on the floor close to the door earlier.” She glanced at him quickly before facing forward. “The dogs all decided to urine mark.”
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