Cupid to the Rescue: A Tail-Wagging Valentine's Day Anthology

by Lisa Mondello

  “It’ll all work out,” she assured him, resolving not to worry about the boundaries they’d breached. She was in his arms. The only line that mattered right now was the line connecting them, wrapped around them, holding them together.

  Taking Care of Business: Chapter 9

  He couldn’t get enough of Abbie. Having her in his bed all night felt so natural, so perfect. Returning with her to his mother’s house before dawn to deal with Priscilla…well, it wasn’t how he wanted to start the day, but if it gave him more time with Abbie, he was all right with it. They took the mutt for a walk, all the while holding hands and watching the first bright streaks of dawn spread above the horizon. Once they were done with Priscilla, they returned to his townhouse for breakfast. Abbie insisted she didn’t eat big breakfasts, but she managed to devour the scrambled eggs and toast he’d fixed for her. He wasn’t a great chef, or even a particularly good one, but he could manage scrambled eggs.

  Tomorrow was Saturday. He’d take her to Riley’s for brunch. What Riley’s lacked in atmosphere it made up for in hearty food and friendly service.

  He was already planning his future around Abbie. A future only one day ahead, but he wanted her to occupy center stage in his tomorrow. In his weekend. In his life.

  He sailed through work, powered by adrenaline. His only disappointment came at noon, when he knew Abbie would be giving Priscilla her midday stroll. Much as he would have liked to, he couldn’t hustle back to Brogan’s Point from Boston just to accompany Abbie on the walk.

  Abbie would say he was jealous of Priscilla, who would get to spend quality time with Abbie while Hank was stuck downtown, wolfing down a sandwich at his desk while he reviewed spread sheets on his computer. And yeah, he was jealous of Priscilla. How could he not be jealous? She was with Abbie. He wasn’t.

  He was with her for the dinnertime walk, though—and for dinner, afterward. And for Priscilla’s last walk of the day. And then back at his condo, with a bottle of wine and an evening talking about her childhood in Southern California and his in Brogan’s Point, comparing Atlantic and Pacific beaches, sharing stories about their siblings and their school memories. And then a nighttime of steamy sex.

  Saturday arrived, one of those freaky mid-winter days when the sun decided to tease New Englanders with a taste of springtime. The temperature was already inching toward forty degrees by the time they completed Priscilla’s first walk of the day. “We can spend the whole day with Priscilla,” Abbie said. She evidently believed this was a good thing, if her smile was anything to judge by.

  Hank thought their day would be a lot better without Priscilla in it, but Abbie seemed genuinely fond of the dog. She had to know Hank wouldn’t be paying her hourly rate if she was with Priscilla all day—especially because she would be with him all day, too. It wasn’t as if she’d be taking care of the dog while he was away.

  “What about your other clients?” he asked. “You’re taking care of some other dogs, too, aren’t you?”

  “Only when their humans are at work,” she told him. “They can’t walk their dogs then. But they’re home on the weekends. They don’t need me when they aren’t at work.”

  That made sense. “You can’t take Priscilla to Riley’s,” he warned as he watched Priscilla slurp her water, splattering the kitchen floor with droplets as she slobbered into the bowl.

  “We’ll come back to get her after breakfast, then,” Abbie agreed. “Maybe we can take her to the beach. Dogs are allowed on the beach in the winter.”

  True enough, Hank thought grimly. In the summer, the beaches belonged to human beings, and no one walking on the sand in bare feet wanted to encounter dog poop, or have some messy, noisy canine bound over to them to sniff their swimsuits and terrorize their toddlers. But the Brogan’s Point beaches were mostly vacant in the winter, and dogs were allowed to enjoy the surf and sea breezes then.

  And Abbie wanted to take Priscilla to the beach. Hank would put up with Priscilla if it made Abbie happy.

  They feasted on omelets at Riley’s, Abbie mentioning several times that she rarely ate such a big breakfast, patting her slender belly and insisting she was stuffed and couldn’t imagine eating another bite until dinner time, even as she nibbled the last crust of her rye toast. When they were done, Hank dutifully drove back to his mother’s house to pick up Priscilla. She panicked a bit about getting into the car, probably because most of her car trips ended in the parking lot of the veterinarian’s office.

  “I’ll hold her on my lap,” Abbie offered, buckling herself into the passenger seat and gathering the squirming, fussing dog in her arms. Of course, Priscilla calmed down instantly when Abbie held her. Hank couldn’t blame her; he’d be a lot happier if Abbie held him, too.

  The drive to the beach took just minutes, and Priscilla bolted from the car, dashing across the nearly empty parking lot to the beach. Fortunately, Abbie had clipped her leash onto her collar, and she jogged along behind Priscilla. So much for heeling, Hank thought as he locked the car.

  Inspired by the unseasonably mild weather, several other people were also enjoying the beach. Of course, they weren’t sprawled out on blankets beneath umbrellas, clad in swimsuits and smelling of sunblock. But despite the brisk wind that rose off the ocean, the air remained pleasant, the sun reflecting off the white sand and warming it.

  Priscilla seemed to believe this was not a beach but heaven itself. She raced to the water’s edge, pranced in the shallows, then darted across the sand, emitting a chorus of joyful barks. Hank was happy she was happy, but it was Abbie’s smile that riveted him. Her smile and her hair, blowing and tangling in the wind. He pictured her as a child vacationing in Hawaii, romping in the sand or body-surfing in the waves while palm trees swayed gently above the beach. Or as a teenager in a skimpy bikini. Or now, in a skimpy bikini.

  The only thing more astonishing than her beauty was her apparent lack of awareness about it. He remembered how gracefully she’d moved the first time he’d seen her, dancing with her girlfriends at the Faulk Street Tavern. When she ran with Priscilla on the beach, she was every bit as graceful, her legs carrying her with a combination of athleticism and elegance, her eyes squinting slightly in the sun’s glare.

  He watched for as long as he could, then chased after her and Priscilla. They slowed when Priscilla insisted on sniffing a pile of seaweed that marked the high-tide line, and he wrapped Abbie in a hug.

  “I’m burning off some of that omelet,” she told him, nestling into his arms and letting Priscilla run the length of her leash. “Who knows? I might be able to eat lunch, after all.”

  Hank would gladly feed her lunch. And dinner, and breakfast tomorrow. And…yeah, he was thinking about the future. He was thinking about a future with Abbie.

  The thought made him smile.

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  Eventually, Priscilla tired out. Once they returned to Hank’s car, she sat on Abbie’s lap, panting and warming Abbie’s knees, her gaze focused on the side window. Abbie opened it a couple of inches, and Priscilla perked up, planting her forepaws on the door’s sill and trying to poke her head through the narrow opening so she could enjoy the breeze.

  “She’s smearing dog spit all over the window,” Hank muttered.

  Abbie laughed. “It’s just saliva. It’ll wash off.”

  Hank grunted. His scowl looked forced to Abbie. She doubted he was as annoyed by Priscilla as he pretended to be. “Can we stop by someplace on the way back to your mother’s house?” she asked. “I want to show you something.”

  “Sure.” He steered across the parking lot to the road. “Where to?”

  “Take Atlantic Avenue south,” she said, then proceeded to give him directions through town to a building on the western end of the commercial district. Between dog clients yesterday, she’d visited a real estate office in town and spoken to an agent. Nick Fiore had phoned Abbie and told her he’d struck out yet again with the Community Center’s board, and he’d suggested that Andrea Simonetti, a realtor h
e knew, might be able to find her a rental that would meet the needs of her dog school. Her attempts to find an affordable location on her own had failed.

  But now that she had Hank working to raise funding for her school at his venture capital firm, she felt sure she could make the school a reality—if only she could find a location for it. Andrea had found her the perfect place. Since Hank had managed to become an important—an essential—part of her life, she wanted to show it to him.

  “There it is,” she said, pointing to the brick building on the corner of Seaview Avenue and Seventh Street.

  Hank frowned and pulled his car to the curb in front of the building. It didn’t look like much, she knew—a single story tall, no windows, just a glass door. “It used to be a storage facility for Murray’s Tires,” she said. “But they recently built that extension to their tire shop and moved their inventory there. I think they want to sell the place, but Andrea said she was pretty sure they’d work out a rental deal, since it’s been sitting empty for a while. Who would want to buy it?” Other than the proprietor of a dog obedience school, but even with financing from New Horizons, Abbie doubted she would qualify for a mortgage.

  “I give up,” Hank said. “Who would want to buy it?”

  She smiled. “It’s perfect for my dog school, Hank. It’s got a back room with plumbing that I could turn into a grooming area. The floor is concrete, so I’d want to put some rubberized tiles down—kinder to the dogs’ paws. But the size is good. It’s big enough that I could set up a course for dogs who want to train for competitions. And it’s got parking in the back.”

  “It has no windows.”

  “Which is great, because if it had windows, the dogs could be distracted by every car that drove past the building.”

  “What kind of competitions would dogs train for? Dog shows?”

  “Performance competitions. The dogs run through obstacle courses, do tricks, and of course follow the commands of their humans. It’s a thing.”

  Hank looked bemused, as if such a competition made no sense. “What do they win?”

  “Ribbons. Trophies. Pride. Sometimes money. I’d need a little training myself to teach agility skills, but it’s something to think about.”

  “A good source of income for you,” Hank said.

  She nodded.

  “We should add that to your proposal at New Horizons,” he said.

  She nodded again. He might be bemused, but he understood business.

  This building was just what Abbie wanted—even more than a room at the Community Center. Andrea had told her she’d need to file papers and get a permit from the town’s health department to run a business involving live animals—”I can walk you through that,” Andrea had assured her. “I don’t fore see any difficulty getting the permits. The building isn’t in a residential area, and the plumbing is adequate.”

  Abbie hoped Hank’s firm would come up with funding for her soon, while the building was still available. She doubted there was a long line of people clamoring to buy an abandoned tire storage building, but who knew? Andrea had told her the owner would rather sell than rent.

  She eyed Hank, who scrutinized the building intently. She liked the quiet thoughtfulness he exuded when he was contemplating business matters. She’d seen it at the Punjab Palace, when he’d studied the business plan she’d printed for him. A stillness overtook him, as if his mind was a sponge, absorbing all the energy around him.

  Stillness didn’t come easily to her. She admired it in others—especially in Hank.

  Was he right to worry about their crossing lines? Did she love him because he took her ambitions seriously, or because he was in a position to fulfill those ambitions? Would she love him as much if he didn’t work for a venture capital firm?

  She loved him. Good lord, she’d fallen hard for Hank Patterson. In such a short time, and with lines crossed all over the place. She’d fallen in love with a man who didn’t love dogs.

  But he liked dogs. Maybe not Priscilla, but he’d said he liked dogs. Maybe that would be enough.

  Because, damn it, she was in love with him.

  Taking Care of Business: Chapter 10

  “Colleen Flaherty wants to increase her buy-in,” Hank told the other partners Monday morning. They were seated around the conference table, drinking coffee, munching on bagels and muffins, and reviewing the week’s agenda. Laptops, crumpled napkins, and crumbs covered the table’s surface. The atmosphere was relaxed but not quite informal. “Much as I love taking money from people, I don’t know how wise that would be. I don’t know if she’s aware of how high-risk some of our investments are. She’s having too much fun spending her ex-husband’s money.”

  “It’s not like we’re looking for another partner,” Laurie Cassals said. One of New Horizon’s founding partners, Laurie had been a pioneering high-tech researcher before she switched to the financial side of the industry. Hank found her a little intimidating, although he admired her enormously.

  “I think her original buy-in is fine,” Jeff Macklis said, “but let’s put a hold on anything more at this time. We can revisit the possibility in six months.” He surveyed the six partners. “Agreed?”

  His question was met with nods and murmurs of assent.

  “One last item,” Jeff said. “This puppy school Hank brought to us.”

  Low chuckles filled the room. Laurie shot Hank a sharp look. “Are you serious about this?”

  “I thought it would be a fun project,” Hank said, trying not to sound defensive. “Low investment, low risk, and hey—who doesn’t love dogs?” He assured himself he wasn’t being hypocritical in appealing to their emotions. Just because he didn’t love dogs didn’t mean there weren’t a few dog-lovers at the table.

  “It would be fun,” Laurie agreed. “But it’s not something we do.”

  “There are lots of things we don’t do, until we do them,” Hank noted.

  “I think it’s a little too small for us,” someone else said.

  “Pretty low-tech, too. Nothing sexy about it.”

  Hank refrained from arguing that there was something incredibly sexy about it, and her name was Abbie Harding. The partners didn’t need to know his personal interest in her school.

  “So, we’re agreed?” Jeff pushed ahead. “No on the pooch school.”

  More nods.

  A couple of minutes later, Hank was back in his own office, his cup of coffee refilled and his stomach churning as it struggled to digest the bagel he’d eaten at the meeting. He’d known that getting the firm to finance Abbie’s school was a long shot. As Laurie had said, it wasn’t something New Horizons did.

  Abbie seemed to believe Hank could make it happen, though. She’d already found a building to house the school. She wanted to expand the concept to include training for competitions. She wanted to surround herself with dogs and turn them into canine Einsteins, and show her parents that even if she didn’t have a Ph.D., she could be a success. More than just her enjoyment of working with dogs was at stake. She had something to prove.

  And he was going to have to tell her his firm’s money wouldn’t enable her to prove it.

  He cursed. Long shot or not, he’d hoped the partners might take a chance on an unusual project. Now he would have to tell Abbie they’d rejected her proposal without even putting it through their typical analysis.

  She’d be heartbroken. And Hank would be the one breaking her heart.

  Unless…

  Unless she could get funding some other way.

  He tapped his bank’s app on his phone and checked his balance. Even with a significant portion of his money tied up in New Horizons, a decent chunk invested in his condominium, and the maximum allowable in his tax-sheltered retirement accounts, he had liquid assets to spare. Hell, he could give her enough money to get her dog school up and running. He doubted she would accept a flat-out gift, but a loan? Why not? She’d applied for loans at several banks. Why not take out a loan from the Bank of Hank?


  A subtle chime alerted him to a new email. He closed the bank app and opened his email app. I can’t believe I’m having so much fun, his mother wrote. I hope the good times continue when I get home. See you in two days!

  He smiled. He could lend Abbie fifty thousand dollars, she could get her obedience school started, and his mother was having a blast on her cruise. Things were definitely trending well.

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  Hank arrived at his mother’s house at six o’clock, just as Abbie was strolling down the front walk with Priscilla. Seeing him ignited a flare of fireworks inside Abbie, a combination of joy and erotic heat. He charged up the walk, meeting her halfway, and gathered her into an exuberant hug that told her he was as happy to see her as she was to see him.

  Priscilla didn’t share their happiness. She’d been—well, not exactly heeling, but at least not tugging at her leash, until she’d spotted Hank. As soon as she did, she started growling and yanking. Abbie yanked back. Teaching a dog to heel required a lot of eye contact between the dog and the human, but Priscilla had eyes—hard, angry eyes—only for Hank.

  Abbie gave Hank a quick kiss, then pulled Priscilla away and squatted down next to her. “No,” she said. “No pulling.”

  Priscilla looked contrite for all of one nanosecond before glowering at Hank again.

  “She hates me,” Hank muttered.

  “She’s just jealous,” Abbie insisted, straightening up and indulging in another brief kiss before continuing down the front walk to the street.

  The weekend’s freakish warmth had vanished, allowing winter to return. A frigid gust slapped Abbie’s cheeks, a reminder of how close this neighborhood was to the ocean. Priscilla stopped tugging on the leash, apparently believing she once again had Abbie’s full attention. She didn’t notice that Abbie’s free hand was clasped securely by Hank, his gloved fingers woven through hers.