by Ann Whitaker
Before I put my little fur ball in his travel crate, I hugged him to me, hoping some doggy therapy would make me feel better, but it wasn’t the same as holding Nick in my arms.
How would Nick react when he found out his nemesis would be flying the unfriendly skies with us? I was soon to find out.
I walked into the hangar where the plane was housed, tote bag in one hand, Philip’s crate in the other. Nick was already there, talking with a couple of men in mechanics’ overalls. When he spotted me, he stopped mid-sentence and started toward me, a smile on his face. One thing I’d discovered about Nick—he regained his composure quickly. But then he looked down at the crate. When he saw Philip’s nose pressed against the wire-frame door, Nick came to a dead stop.
I pasted on my best smile, set the crate down, and walked toward him. It took some effort, but I could be magnanimous when the occasion called for it. I reached up and put my arms around him, but Nick stood immobile, making no effort to return my hug. In an instant, he’d turned frosty. Though the temperature was already in the upper 80s, I shivered.
Releasing him, I backed up a step. “So how are you today?” My voice was flat, my smile frozen like his.
“Fine,” he muttered, but his eyes darted toward the crate, and his pitch rose a couple of steps on the scale. “You’re taking him?”
“Yes, I’m taking him. He’s hurt and he needs me. As soon as his stitches are out, he’ll have to start physical therapy.”
As if on cue, Philip whined. I turned my back on Nick, walked over to Philip’s crate, and knelt beside it. “It’s okay, baby. You’re going to be fine. Mama’s going to take care of you now.”
When I glanced up at Nick, he was still eyeballing the crate with distrust. “Don’t worry. He can’t get out,” I said, sarcasm oozing from my lips like dog drool. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. Philip had, after all, bitten Nick till he bled. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. How are you today? Is your—?” I looked around to make sure the men were out of hearing range. “How’s your…bite?” I’d almost said butt.
I stood, then reached down and grabbed the handle of the crate. “You know, you should probably let a doctor look at it. Even though he bit you through your clothes, it could get infected. I’ll pay for it.”
Nick’s body grew rigid at the mention of the dog bite. “I said I’m fine.” Eyes averted, he grabbed my tote bag and climbed inside the plane. Behind him, I hoisted Philip’s crate without assistance and maneuvered us both up the small steps leading to the rear door. Nick seated himself gingerly in the pilot’s seat, wincing as his right buttock touched down.
Neither of us spoke during preparation for takeoff, except for some reassuring words from me to Philip when he whined. Soon we were airborne and headed back to Waco.
Nick kept his eyes straight ahead, though there was nothing to see but blue sky. “Does Carmen know?”
“She’s the one who insisted I bring him.”
Nick’s jaw tightened. “So she knew Philip was a dog.”
“Not until this morning when I told her on the phone. You found out first.”
His laugh was grim. “Yeah, the hard way. I guess you also told her about him biting me.”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’m the one who should be embarrassed, not you. But no, I didn’t tell her.” I tried to lighten the mood. “You could always say I bit you.”
I looked closely and waited, hoping at least one corner of his mouth would turn up slightly, but it didn’t. I made another attempt at summoning the old Nick. “Look, I’ve tried everything I can think of to make this up to you. I’m sorry you got bit. I’m sorry you’re in pain. I’m sorry if you’re embarrassed. But I’d like to get past this. Philip isn’t Cujo. He’s just a little guy who’s been through a painful surgery, whose mama has been gone for two weeks, and who struck out defensively when he felt threatened. Can’t you understand where Philip was coming from?”
“Can’t you see where I’m coming from? You treat that dog nicer than you do me.”
“Now you sound like Berto. Except you’re jealous of a tiny, ten-pound poodle?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Then what is it?”
He shifted in his seat. I couldn’t tell if the dog bite or the conversation was causing his discomfort. He didn’t answer at first, and his cheek twitched when he finally spoke. “I helped you with Noche and Blanco, right? But this is different. This is your dog, and you obviously care a lot about him.”
“So?”
“It’s just that—”
“You are jealous.”
“No, I’m not jealous,” he said defiantly. “How could I be jealous of a dog?”
“Then what? What is it, Nick?”
His hands gripped the yoke, and his voice grew hard. “I don’t want to talk about it any more. Let’s change the subject.”
“What do you mean? Don’t you think you owe me some kind of explanation? What’s the problem? Why can’t you just—”
He turned toward me, wincing. “Julie!” he snapped, “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”
I defiantly held his gaze a moment then turned away from him and stared straight ahead, my face a blank. Inwardly, I seethed.
We arrived at the Espositos’ shortly before noon. I’d hoped to avoid seeing either of them until I’d had time to sort out my feelings, but Carmen was standing in the driveway as we pulled up in the Lexus.
When I got out, she rushed over and hugged me. “I’m so glad you’re back. Berto is in San Antonio on business, and it’s been lonely here without you.” As I lifted Philip’s crate from the backseat, she let out a squeal. “Ohhh, let me see the little one. I want to meet Philip.”
“Better watch out,” Nick growled, pulling his suitcase from the trunk. “His bite is worse than his bark.” With that, he strode off toward the house.
Carmen’s eyes grew large. “What’s up with him?”
“He’s suffering from IMS.”
She looked puzzled. “What’s that?”
“Incomprehensible Male Syndrome.”
Carmen smiled. “They all have that.” She squeezed my arm. “Did you two have a fight? I thought maybe in a new setting you might—”
“Uh-uh. You’re too much the romantic. I told you Nick isn’t the kind of man I’m looking for.”
“Julie, I’ve known Nick a long time. I notice things—”
“Ha. And I thought I had a vivid imagination. Meet Philip. He’s a good boy, but he’s had a rough time the past few days.”
She stooped down and peered into Philip’s crate. “He’s so little!”
“Ten pounds. But he’s all poodle.” And at only ten pounds, he was enough poodle to exert thirty pounds of pressure into a bite.
I could tell Carmen was itching for me to take him out of the crate so she could hold him, but now was not the time. “He’s still pretty upset from the surgery and the trip. He’s not used to flying. Once we get settled, you can come see him. He really loves people.” That part was true. He was a friendly little guy. Nick just didn’t understand. And I didn’t understand anyone who didn’t love dogs.
“That reminds me.” Carmen sounded perturbed. “I told Berto you were bringing him and about the therapy.” Color rose to her face, and her eyes blazed with anger. “He said he didn’t want a dog in his pool. I argued with him, but he wouldn’t listen. Men. Don’t worry. We’ll work something out.”
“It’s okay,” I said, though it really wasn’t. I wouldn’t have brought Philip except for her promise of the pool.
She stomped her tiny foot. “Berto’s just so stubborn. Once when Noche and Blanco got loose and jumped in the pool, he made Ramón drain it. Said he didn’t want to swim in water where a dog had peed.”
“Huh. People are probably more likely to pee in it than a dog. Dogs have their standards, you know.”
Carmen looked as if she might cry. “It hurts me Berto doesn’t understand how I fee
l about them. He’s jealous. Hard to believe, isn’t it? Macho man Berto, threatened by a couple of poodles.”
She might be right about Berto, but Nick’s reluctance to confide in me and his reaction to Philip was something more.
I was relieved when Nick left for San Antonio. He’d be spending a few days there before bringing Berto home. At the same time, I felt empty, which led to my imagination working overtime. Part of it, I blamed on Butch. He’d planted a seed of doubt with his hints about the shady nature of Berto’s business transactions. Was Berto really importing more than furniture? And what about New Orleans? Could Nick be involved in something illegal? Were they partners in crime?
With only a couple of weeks left before the dogs’ “coming out” party, Carmen and I stepped up our training to three sessions a day. Noche and Blanco seemed to relish the enrichment. We all seemed more relaxed and confident without the men around. Not only had the dogs mastered sit and stay, they could also perform a down-stay for three minutes. Even when we added distractions—like bouncing a ball—they remained in place, except to swivel their heads toward the ball.
“It’s amazing,” Carmen told me one afternoon when we’d finished a particularly successful session. “They’re like two different dogs!”
“Yes, and you haven’t broken their spirit. They’re still as playful and loving as they ever were, but they know who’s in command now.”
“I can’t wait for Berto to see them perform. And I have another big surprise planned for him the night of their graduation.”
Knowing Carmen, I was afraid to ask what that might be.
Later that week, I noticed Carmen seemed unusually animated during our morning session with the dogs, but when I asked her what was up, she just looked at me from under her fall of dark hair and smiled mysteriously.
That afternoon, as I sat reading under an umbrella by the pool, I caught a glimpse of Nick coming out the back door of the big house. My heart lurched. Since he wasn’t looking my way, I enjoyed the thrill of the voyeur. His white shirt provided a stark contrast to his golden skin and dark hair. When he moved his arms, his muscular back strained against the fabric.
I tossed my book aside and sat up straighter to get a better view. Philip looked up from my lap where he’d been sleeping and sneezed. I waited, brazenly hoping to catch Nick’s eye. Maybe by now he would have forgotten the biting incident, though I’d forgotten very little of that evening. In fact, as I rewound that night and replayed it over and over, it had taken on the proportions of an epic. Images of us in each other’s arms, the feel of his body against mine, the warmth of his touch—I was Scarlett O’Hara, swept off my feet by his Rhett, while the Civil War raged in the background.
But wait. Why was he lingering in the doorway with his back to me? Then I saw her, all long black hair and light brown skin. Her tinkling laughter wafted through the air in my direction. Each note tugged at my heart until it thudded and sank, weighted by the anchor of my jealousy. Nick leaned forward, whispering in her ear. She laughed again and hit him playfully on the arm. Inwardly, I curled into a fetal position. I imagined her drowning in his blue eyes, the same way I did.
The resemblance was striking. She had to be Carmen’s daughter, the one who lived in California and didn’t come home often enough to suit her mother. Why was Nick so animated? Other than the fact she was beautiful.
The physical ache in my chest grew stronger until I pulled my eyes away and gathered Philip into my arms, preparing to head for my apartment to nurse my wounds in private. Too late. Like Lot’s wife, I looked back just as Carmen appeared behind the laughing couple. She caught my eye and motioned me toward them. I had no choice but to comply. She knew I’d seen her.
I set Philip on the ground and held onto his leash as he made a valiant effort to scamper on three legs toward the trio. Except for the fact his shaved appendage looked like a raw chicken leg and he held it aloft, no one would ever guess he’d had surgery a few days before. His energy and friendly personality had returned, and he’d already won Carmen’s heart. When he saw her, he gave a yip of joy and tried to stand upright on his one good back leg.
“Mi pequeño,” Carmen squealed, running toward him and scooping him up in her arms. “Just look at this sweetie! He’s going to be using his leg again in no time.”
She didn’t see the shadow that passed over Nick’s face. “Nick, now that you’re back, maybe you can help Julie with his therapy.”
I still hadn’t told Carmen about the biting incident and didn’t intend to. Any time she brought up our trip to Abilene, I was deliberately vague.
After she accepted numerous wet kisses from Philip, she set him down gently and ruffled the fur on his back. “That’s more kisses than I’ve gotten from Berto in a year. Oh, Julie, seeing your little one makes me want another one of my own.”
“Oh no, Mamá. He is a cutie, but you’ve had a hard enough time getting Papá to accept Noche and Blanco.”
Carmen smiled proudly and turned toward the gorgeous young woman who resembled her. “Julie, meet my daughter, Barbi.”
My guess had been right. But Barbi? I’d expected Carmen’s daughter to be named “Ángel” or “Catalina” or “Esperanza”—a beautiful Hispanic name to match her looks. But Barbi? Bewilderment must have shown on my face.
Carmen laughed. “Yes, I wanted her to have an American name.”
Was she named after the doll or Hugh Hefner’s former girlfriend?
Barbi, or Barbie, smiled graciously and extended her hand, while I stood there pondering her name. “Please. Everyone but Mamá calls me Babe.”
I stole a glance at Nick. The thought of him calling her Babe made me feel worse. She was one. Nick had grown quiet as soon as Philip and I appeared. I couldn’t read his expression, but when I looked into his eyes and then at his mouth, my face turned warm. All I could think about was how his tongue had traced its way up my leg, the softness of his lips, and his hands and mouth on my breasts. My nipples grew hard and the tingle between my legs made me weak.
I tried to conceal my reaction by focusing on Babe. I even tried thinking of Paul Bunyan’s blue ox of the same name to uglify her, but it didn’t work. This Babe was stunning. My only option was to act sickeningly sweet. “I understand you live in California. How could you leave that wonderful climate and come to Texas during the hottest month of the year?”
She smiled and looked up at Nick in adoration. “For one thing, Nicky finally found time to come get me.” She pooched out her full lips and grabbed his arm and shook it, as if scolding him.
Nicky? I expected Nick to cringe, but to my chagrin, he reached over and gave her a quick hug. I tried to tell myself it was brotherly. After all, he’d known the family for years and must be ten years older than Barbi, if not more.
Barbi’s full, dark eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks. “I try to get home between shoots.” For some reason I heard “chutes” and thought of bull riding.
Before my imagination had her biting the dust at the mercy of a wild bull, Carmen elaborated. “Barbi is an actress.”
Barbi smiled modestly. “So far only some television walk-ons and a small role in a soap opera. Mamá has a penchant for embellishing.”
Carmen stood up straighter. “I do not embellish. She is so good she’s landed an important new agent who says she’s going to be a star.”
Barbi flashed me an award-winning smile. “See what I mean?”
Nick reached around Barbi’s shoulders and gave her a friendly shake. Too friendly for my liking. “Hey, I’ve seen you and you’re good!” I wondered how much of her he’d seen. By now the green-eyed monster had me fully in its clutches.
Barbi turned the conversation to me. “I hear you’re doing great things with Mamá’s wild perros.”
It was my turn to be modest. “Your mother has done a great job.” I meant every word of it. Surprisingly, Carmen was showing a natural talent for handling the two dogs now that she’d overcome her fear of breaking their spirit a
nd gained the confidence to assert herself.
Carmen shook her head vehemently. “Julie is the one who deserves credit. Noche and Blanco love her.”
Nick intervened. “Enough of the mutual admiration society. If we’re going to make it to town before the mall closes, we’d better get going.” His words were directed at Barbi. I was still having a hard time thinking of her as Babe. Since when was Nick also the designated driver? Did Barbi—Babe—not drive? Wasn’t that a requirement for anyone living in LA?
Carmen smiled, opened the back door, and pushed them through. “You two get out of here. I’ll see you at dinner. Julie, you’re coming, too, of course.”
I muttered a lame excuse about having to tend to Philip, but Carmen wouldn’t take no for an answer. That meant I’d be stuck watching Nick and Babe make goo-goo eyes at each other. I resolved to come down with the epizootis or some other made-up disease.
As it turned out, my epizootis claim didn’t work, but dinner was tolerable. Berto was back from another business trip, Carmen raved to him about the great strides we’d made with the dogs, and Babe told some funny behind-the-scenes stories about the crazy characters on the soap opera set. If I hadn’t been so jealous of her, we probably could have been friends. She had a great sense of humor. And I could have tolerated the beautiful part if Nick hadn’t been in the picture.
Nick said little, even to Babe, which suited me just fine. Whatever he had on his mind, he was keeping it to himself.
It was time to rededicate myself. I was back in Waco, my not-so-happy husband hunting grounds, and I still needed a husband. Butch had been a bad choice. But I’d never let a bad choice stop me before. Carmen seemed to think muchas-dates.com was the way to go, so maybe she knew something I didn’t. I’d tried every other way of meeting men from smoke-filled bars to grocery stores, and where had that gotten me?