by Diane Kelly
I dialed his number. The call went to voicemail. Had he gone to bed already? Or was he ghosting me?
I couldn’t blame him if it was the latter.
I left a message. “I’m sorry, Louie. I feel bad the way I left things tonight. It’s just that . . . well, there are things you don’t know. Things I wasn’t quite ready to share. But I don’t want things between us to be over.” I swallowed the lump of emotion in my throat. “I hope you don’t want things to be over, either. Please call me.”
I hoped he’d give me a chance to make things right. And I hoped when I came clean with him, told him my story and showed him my scars, that he didn’t back off.
I turned out the light and climbed into bed with Shirazi by my side. He seemed to sense I was sad and was much more affectionate than usual, purring, rubbing his head against my arm, nudging my hand to be petted.
I watched a little television, but couldn’t concentrate on the show. Why wasn’t Louie calling me back? Had he decided I wasn’t worth the trouble, maybe called up some of the guys from the fire station and headed out to a bar to find a woman who was less complicated? Less emotional? More accessible? He had every right to be scared off by my behavior.
I picked up my phone to make sure the ringer was on. Yep. Just in case something was wrong with Louie’s voicemail, I sent him a text, too. I’m sorry. Let’s give this another try. Okay?
I finally fell asleep but tossed and turned all night, repeatedly checking my phone for a voicemail or text.
Midnight. Nothing.
2:18 a.m. Nothing.
3:47 a.m. Nothing.
5:26 a.m. Nothing.
At seven o’clock Sunday morning, I climbed out of bed despite having slept a cumulative total of only four or five hours. I dragged my feet into the kitchen and started the coffeepot.
Shirazi sat down in front of his empty food bowl, swishing his tail.
“Okay, boy. I’ll get your breakfast.” I poured a cupful of kibble into his bowl. Though my stomach was empty, I had no appetite. I was too worried. Worried that Louie wouldn’t think I was worth the trouble. Worried that he’d already met someone else. A guy like him could get another girlfriend in a heartbeat.
Should I go to his house to try to talk to him in person? That could backfire. If he refused to respond to my voicemail and texts, he might refuse to open his door for me, too. Heck, I wasn’t entirely sure I could find his house. On the drive over I’d been so nervous about what might happen in the hot tub that I hadn’t paid much attention. On the drive home, my vision had been marred by my tears.
Ugh.
The ball was in his court now. I’d just have to wait and see . . . and cross my fingers and hope.
Chapter Twenty-Two: A Matter of Trust
Louie
I woke Sunday morning with a slight headache. Drinking that bottle of wine had been a dumb-ass move, but I’d needed something to dull the ache in my heart. Besides, I was a big guy. The bottle had given me a buzz, taken the edge off, but it wasn’t like I’d passed out.
Stinker stirred as I climbed out of bed, raising her head from the soft new sheets. At least she’d been able to enjoy them even though Jessica hadn’t.
“Come on, girl,” I said, patting my leg. “Let’s get you outside.”
The tags on her collar jingled as she hopped down from the bed. As we strode through the living room, I spotted my phone on the coffee table. I scooped it up as we headed toward the back door.
Outside, Stinker trotted to the grass and crouched down to relieve herself. Meanwhile, I jabbed the button to bring my phone to life. There, on the screen, was a text from Jessica.
I’m sorry. Let’s give this another try. Okay?
There was a voicemail, too. She’d apologized and claimed to have some deep, dark secret that she hadn’t been ready to tell me. Seriously? After I’d spilled my guts to her she didn’t feel like she could be open and honest with me? I felt like I’d been sucker punched.
At that point, I wasn’t sure who I was more angry at. Her, for freaking out for reasons she wouldn’t tell me. Or me, for being so happy she’d gotten back in touch.
Yeah. It’s me.
I was whipped. No doubt about it. That vanilla-scented kindergarten teacher had brought me to my knees.
Her bladder empty now, Stinker returned to me, plunking her hindquarters down on the concrete and looking up at me.
“You’re a female,” I told her. “Got any advice on how I should handle this?”
Yip! Yip-yip!
“You’re right,” I told the pup. “I should give her another chance but proceed with caution. Thanks.” I reached down and ruffled the dog’s ears. “Let’s get you some breakfast.”
Chapter Twenty-Three: Taking Chances
Jessica
When I’d heard nothing from Louie by noon, I couldn’t take it anymore. I drove my car over to his neighborhood and cruised up and down the streets, trying to locate his house. Unfortunately, I’d caught only a quick glimpse at the outside of his place last night. I knew it was a one-story brown brick home with nice landscaping, but the houses here were tract homes with limited variability. A dozen of them could have been Louie’s. Without his red Jeep in the driveway or Stinker playing on the lawn, I couldn’t be certain which one was his.
I banged a frustrated fist on my steering wheel. Dammit!
At three in the afternoon, I was sitting at my kitchen table with Shirazi on my lap and trying in vain to focus on my lesson plans for the week. It was impossible. My mind was elsewhere.
My phone pinged and I snatched it up. A text from Louie! Finally! Had it taken him that long to discover my messages? Or had he kept me waiting to teach me a lesson? I wasn’t sure. Either way, the wait had been agony.
His reply was terse. I’ll get tickets for the play we talked about. I’ll pick you up at 7:30 on Friday.
He was going to make me wait until Friday? My God, that felt like an eternity! I replied back. Can you come over to my place for dinner tonight? I wasn’t much of a cook, but I could throw together a vegetable pot pie or pick up some takeout.
It was a moot point. He came back with: Can’t. Sunday nights I have dinner with my family.
I chewed my lip. Come over after, I texted back. PLEASE!
I’m sure I sounded desperate, but that’s exactly how I felt. The longer this went on, the more likely the problem would fester. I needed to tell him my secret, to show him, while he still had feelings for me. I needed to at least get us back on speaking terms.
He waited a good twenty minutes before responding: Ok.
I heaved a huge sigh of relief, my emphatic breath parting the fur on Shirazi’s back. He cast me a look of disdain. I supposed I deserved it.
* * *
I had no idea what time Louie would come over, but I got myself ready by seven o’clock in case his family ate early. I’d put on my sexiest red lace bra under a gauzy dress that buttoned up to my collarbone. I spent extra time fixing my hair and makeup, and spritzed my wrists with vanilla-scented spray. I slid my feet into the lace-up wedges I’d worn on our first date to see Harrison’s band. Louie had cast glances at my legs several times that night, so I suspected he liked them on me.
When I finished, I took a look in the mirror. This was as good as it gets. If he didn’t find me attractive like this, he never would.
But while I was prepared physically, mentally I was mush. What if my revelation changed things between us? What if Louie no longer found me desirable once he’d seen my scars?
If he did, then he wasn’t the man I’d thought he was.
Still, a shot of whiskey would help me fortify myself in the event he did reject me or show revulsion. It would also make it easier for me to share my story and scars.
I poured two fingers in a shot glass and tossed it back.
There was a knock at my door followed by a yip-yip-yip! Looked like Louie had brought Stinker with him. I was glad. The precious little pup would add some levity to the sit
uation.
I walked to the door, took a deep breath, and opened it. Louie stood there looking as hot and handsome as ever, though his brown eyes were steely. I bit my lip and those eyes went to my mouth, softening slightly.
Stinker jumped up on my leg. Yip!
I bent down to pet her. “Hi, girl!”
She wagged her tail, her entire body wriggling with enthusiasm.
I stood and backed up to let them in.
Louie took a few steps into my place and stopped, his meaty arms crossed over his chest.
“Come sit down.” I reached out, put a hand on his forearm, and led him to the couch.
Once he’d taken a seat on one end, I took a seat on the other, turning to face him. Hot tears welled up in my eyes again and I wiped them away. I’d probably smeared my mascara all over the place. But if Louie was going to be turned off by smudged makeup, what did any of this matter?
I took a deep breath. I wasn’t sure what to say, where to begin. But as they say, a picture is worth a thousand words, right?
“I need to show you something,” I said.
He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. “What?”
“This.”
I reached down, starting at the top button of my dress, slowly undoing each of them. Louie watched me with a face that was equal parts confusion and arousal.
When I was unbuttoned to my waist, I eased the dress off my shoulders, letting it fall. Other than the parts covered by my bra, my chest and stomach were exposed. As much as I wanted to look away so that I wouldn’t see the disgust in his gaze, I forced myself to keep my eyes on Louie.
But there was no disgust. Instead, Louie’s concerned gaze traveled down from my face, taking in the scarred flesh between and under my breasts. He reached out on apparent instinct and I flinched. He noticed and pulled his hand back. I felt exposed and vulnerable as I waited for him to say something.
His brow furrowed as his gaze returned to my face. “Is that why you didn’t want me to touch you? Because of your burn scars?”
I nodded, biting my lip to keep from crying again. When I regained some control, I said, “Ugly, aren’t they?” I finagled my dress back into place. “They’re the reason I arranged the fire-safety assembly for the students.” I told him the whole story then, how I’d lit the lavender candle despite being warned many times not to.
He stared into my eyes so deep I felt it in my soul. “I hate that you went through this,” he said softly, reaching out to take both of my hands in his. “But how can I think anything is ugly when it led me to you?”
Chapter Twenty-Four: Happy Endings
Louie
I wasn’t sure where those eloquent words had come from. My heart, I supposed. But they were just what Jessica needed to hear. She threw herself into my arms and burst into tears, but unlike her earlier ones, these were happy.
After giving me a long, tight hug, she released me and wiped her eyes on the back of her hand. She leaned back in and gave me a deep kiss. “So the scars really don’t bother you?” she asked after releasing me.
I gestured to my jeans, which had formed a tent over my crotch. “What does Exhibit A tell you?”
She glanced down and treated me to one of those sexy giggles of hers. “It tells me it’s time to get back in your hot tub and finish what we started.”
Chapter Twenty-Five: Perfect Imperfections
Jessica
I woke in Louie’s bed the next morning with dozens of dirty details. But I decided to share only one or two with Tasha at work that day. The rest I’d keep between me and Louie.
Speaking of between me and Louie, that’s exactly where Stinker was lying, snoozing and snoring away. Lazy little pup.
Louie, too, was still asleep. I slipped quietly out of bed in the dim early morning light and stood before his dresser. Looking in the mirror, I stepped closer and stared at the scars marring my skin. While they normally made me feel embarrassed and unattractive, they somehow seemed insignificant now. I supposed I was seeing myself as Louie saw me.
Seeming to realize she no longer had a warm body on both sides of her, Stinker raised her head off the bed, looked my way, and opened her mouth in a big yawn. My scars might have been what led me to call the fire department and set up the fire-safety assembly, but the little pup was what had led Louie back to the school and brought us together. I’d always love her for that.
I slipped back under the covers, draped an arm over her, and planted a grateful kiss on her furry little head.
* * *
Louie and I had dinner together twice that week, and attended the play on Friday. It was a hoot and a half. On Saturday, we took Stinker for a long walk on the Trinity River trail. She’d finally gotten the hang of the leash and trotted along beside us, managing not to trip us or tie our ankles together. When she tired out toward the end, Louie scooped her up and carried her in his arms. She looked up at him in adoration and gave him an appreciative lick on the chin.
On Sunday he took me to dinner at his parents’ house. He and Mario gave each other a good-natured ribbing all evening, the way amiable brothers do. His parents were friendly and welcoming, not just to me but to Stinker, too. His mother fixed the puppy a special dinner of Italian sausage, cutting it into small pieces and hand feeding it to her at the table, the pup sitting happily in her lap. I could only imagine what a doting grandmother she’d be someday.
* * *
Over the next few weeks, both Stinker and my affection for her and Louie continued to grow. We taught the puppy some tricks. Sit. Speak. Stay.
Louie taught me some tricks in the bedroom, too, and showed me a few of his own. But rather than rewarding me with a biscuit, he presented me with a shiny diamond ring. Looked like he wanted me to stay, too.
The ring on my finger, I gave Stinker a tight hug. She’d scampered into our lives, a lost and lonely stray. Now all three of us had found a home together, thanks to the spotted little pup.
Acknowledgments
I’m so grateful to everyone who played a role in getting this novella into readers’ hands.
Thanks to my editor, Holly Ingraham, for being so great to work with.
Thanks to Jennie Conway, Sarah Melnyck, Paul Hochman, Allison Ziegler, and the rest of the St. Martin’s team for all you do for me and my books.
Thanks to my agent, Helen Breitwieser, for taking care of business so I can focus on the fun stuff.
And thanks to you wonderful readers who picked up this book. I hope Stinker will steal your heart the way she stole mine!
About the Author
Author photograph © Kyle Cavener
Diane Kelly is a former state assistant attorney general and tax adviser who spent much of her career fighting, or inadvertently working for, white-collar criminals. She is also a proud graduate of the Mansfield, Texas, Citizen’s Police Academy. The first book in Diane’s IRS Special Agent Tara Holloway series, Death, Taxes, and a French Manicure, received a Romance Writers of America Golden Heart Award. Book two, Death, Taxes, and a Skinny No-Whip Latte, won a Reviewers Choice Award. Diane has combined her fascination with law enforcement and her love of animals in her K-9 cop Paw Enforcement series.
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Also by Diane Kelly
Death, Taxes, and a French Manicure
Death, Taxes, and a Skinny No-Whip Latte
Death, Taxes, and Extra-Hold Hairspray
Death, Taxes, and a Sequined Clutch
(an e-original novella)
Death, Taxes, and Peach Sangria
Death, Taxes, and Hot-Pink Leg Warmers
Death, Taxes, and Green Tea Ice Cream
Death, Taxes, and Mistletoe Mayhem
(an e-original novella)
Death, Taxes, and Silver Spurs
Death, Taxes, and Cheap Sunglasses
Death, Taxes, and a Chocolate Cannoli
Death, Taxes, and a Satin Garter
Death, Taxes, and Sweet Potato Fries
Paw E
nforcement
Paw and Order
Upholding the Paw
(an e-original novella)
Laying Down the Paw
Against the Paw
Above the Paw
Enforcing the Paw
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Chapter One: Hot and Bothered
Chapter Two: Off and On
Chapter Three: Seeing Spots
Chapter Four: Well Equipped
Chapter Five: Stop, Drop, and Roll
Chapter Six: Frozen with Fear
Chapter Seven: Escape Artist
Chapter Eight: Bad Timing
Chapter Nine: Gone Dog
Chapter Ten: Close Call
Chapter Eleven: Forbidden Fruit
Chapter Twelve: Let the Chips Fall Where They May
Chapter Thirteen: Spoiled Rotten
Chapter Fourteen: Forbidden Fruit
Chapter Fifteen: Burning for You
Chapter Sixteen: Ins and Outs
Chapter Seventeen: Puppy Tales
Chapter Eighteen: Round and Round
Chapter Nineteen: Hot for You
Chapter Twenty: WTF?
Chapter Twenty-One: Flamed Out
Chapter Twenty-Two: A Matter of Trust
Chapter Twenty-Three: Taking Chances
Chapter Twenty-Four: Happy Endings
Chapter Twenty-Five: Perfect Imperfections
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Diane Kelly
Copyright Page