“I’m only scary to people who are trying to wreck this town’s character and put up high-rises.”
Picking up a magazine from the oak coffee table, Sullivan fluttered its pages. “You don’t know me, or my work.”
“I know you rode into town on a bulldozer. That’s enough.”
He snorted. “Good one. You also know the population in Dorset Hills has spiked in the past few years. In your view, where should these people live? Tent villages in the hills?”
“The City shouldn’t let more people in than we can comfortably accommodate.”
“The people we elect make decisions about who moves here. All I can do is build places they can live that still honor the landscape and history. If you looked at some of my designs, maybe you wouldn’t be so prejudiced.”
“I’m not prejudiced.”
“You’re one of the most prejudiced people I’ve had the dubious pleasure of meeting in Dog Town.”
Bridget got to her feet. “I really appreciate this lesson on how to be neighborly, Sullivan. Guess I’ve got some work ahead to live up to your example.”
He followed her to the door, smirking. “Did you hear that, Beau? The sound of your owner’s mind snapping shut.”
“Did you hear that, Beau?” she countered. “The sound of a pot calling a kettle black.”
Sullivan shoved his bare feet into already-laced sneakers and grabbed his leather jacket. He pulled keys out of the pocket and jingled them. “Let’s go.”
“If you’re offering a ride, thanks, but I can walk.”
Opening the door, he held it for her. “This is what being neighborly looks like, Bridget. I saw the dirt on your knees. You fell on your way over.”
“I’ll take the road back.”
“How about you take the ride that’s offered? If you feel like delivering some store-bought cookies on a china plate to thank me, I’ll return it happily.”
“Do I look like I own china?” she grumbled, walking behind him. “And what’s with this car, anyway? It’s too small to be functional.”
Shaking his head, he opened the passenger door, and flipped a lever to move the front seat forward. Then he stood back as Bridget coaxed Beau to get in. The dog dug in his paws and refused to budge. Finally, she had to half-lift, half-shove him into the back.
When she finally turned, she was out of breath, and Sullivan was grinning. “I enjoyed that. Thank you. I’ll let you off the hook on the cookies.”
“Like that was going to happen anyway.” She slid into the low front seat, and Beau stuck his head in between them.
“Do you mind?” Sullivan said, raising an elbow to ease Beau back. “I’ll do the driving.”
“If you ever want a dog, I advise against genuine leather seats,” Bridget said. “Mind you, the only dog that’d fit comfortably in here is a Chihuahua.”
“I like small dogs,” he said. “I’m not the one who’s prejudiced.”
“Fine. If I rescue one, I’ll keep you in mind.”
He patted the left side of his chest. “Perfect. There’s just enough room in here for that.”
Chapter 16
“It’s about time,” Frank said, when Bridget came into Bone Appetit just before noon. “You’re late.”
“Cut me some slack, boss” she said. “I’ve been running around all morning delivering cookies and being nice to my neighbors—knowing at least one of them called the CCD on my dogs. Can you imagine how draining that was?”
“You poor thing,” Rachel said. “You look like you could use a hug.”
“I’ll pass,” Bridget said, smiling to soften the blow. “Several complete strangers hugged me this morning. You’d think they’d never had a store-bought cookie before.”
“That kind of gesture never gets stale,” Rachel said. “I bet it’ll do a world of good.”
Bridget hung her coat on a hook and took the apron Frank offered. “I can’t wait till the pageant’s over and I can go back to being a bitch.”
“Won’t happen,” he said. “The problem with being nice is that your tips go up and it becomes self-perpetuating.”
“You were never that, anyway,” Rachel said, handing her the coffee pot. “Just a little crusty.”
Bridget did her rounds, calming quickly as she filled cups and exchanged pleasantries. When all her regulars were there, she felt anchored in the world.
Half an hour into her shift, the entire Rescue Mafia came in. “All of you?” Frank asked. “Don’t you people have jobs?”
“Oh, Frank, do I have to teach you how to be nice?” Bridget asked. “Maybe I’ll offer a course.”
Maisie and Nika delivered a kiss on each of Frank’s cheeks, and he actually blushed.
“I only meant that Bridget is working right now,” he said. “And she works harder when you’re not distracting her.”
“Are people complaining?” Bridget said, more to her customers than Frank.
“Not me,” said Trent, the retired cop, nursing his coffee. “We’re not complaining about Bridget’s backup singers, so why should you?”
“No complaints here,” one of the firefighters said, as she delivered brimming all-day breakfast plates. They were so predictable: if they were in before two, they had breakfast. After two, burgers.
On the way back to the counter, she dropped another glass of pencil crayons off with Gerry. As always, he was quietly coloring his favorite breeds. “Why never a Rottweiler, Gerry?” she asked, just to be pleasant.
“They’re vicious,” he said. “A pink and purple cairn terrier would never bite.”
“I agree,” Bridget said, laughing. It was the first time she’d know him to be intentionally funny.
When she got back to the counter, Cori, Maisie, Nika and Duff had lined up on the stools. Frank set cups in front of each one and poured coffee. “On the house,” he said. “As usual.”
“Just as it should be,” Bridget said, “because what you’ve got here is counter candy.”
“I’d get sued for saying something like that,” Frank said, grinning. “Anyway, nothing personal, ladies. You know I like you.”
“We do, Frank,” Duff said. “And you’re not completely wrong. We all chose flexible jobs on purpose so that we could drop everything to come and harass you.”
“Harass us instead,” one of the firefighters called.
“Settle, boys,” Bridget called back. “We’ve got important rescue business to discuss.”
“Heard about the noise complaint,” Trent said, shaking his head. “That dog cop has a Napoleon complex.”
“You heard already? It was only last night.”
“That’s a year in Dog Town time.”
Bridget twisted her hair into a ponytail. “I’d hoped to get to the sponsors before they heard.”
“You’d need a time machine,” Trent said. “Better start damage control.”
“That’s what we’re here for,” Cori said. “Let’s get to work.”
“Bridget?” The small voice belonged to Grace.
“More hot water. Right. Coming, Grace.” She filled a teapot and exchanged it with the one on Grace’s table.
“Are your dogs okay?” Grace asked, taking the sugar substitute out of her purse. Bridget noticed she had an entire bottle of fat-free salad dressing in there today.
“I guess. Something’s clearly got them on edge, but I have no idea what it is. Sullivan suggested soundproofing.”
Grace tapped a few white crystals into pale tea. “Good idea. He’s so smart.”
“He is that,” Bridget grudgingly admitted, before heading back to the counter.
Cori took over from there. “Let’s go over the options. We could farm out the dogs, and get them all upset just days before the pageant.”
Bridget shook her head. “They’ll misbehave at the event and have trouble settling in their new homes. Bad for the dogs, bad for my rep.”
Duff pitched next. “We could make sure someone is there with them 24-7. It’s tricky, consider
ing that we do work, Frank.”
“Not real jobs,” Frank said. “All you care about is dogs.”
“What else is there?” Nika said, batting her eyelashes.
“Ladies. Focus,” Cori said. “Consistency is the most important thing for dogs. They thrive on routine.”
“Full-time babysitting might not be enough, anyway,” Bridget said. “The dogs were spooked last night. Even Beau was restless and pacing.”
“Weird,” Cori said. “Have you seen any wildlife?”
Bridget shook her head. “But I can’t help thinking something’s creeping around. Soundproofing would help keep noise out as well as in.”
“It’s an old house,” Duff said. “Impossible to do a reno like that on the fly.”
“How about using the barn?” Nika suggested. “Just portion off a room and slap up layers of soundproofing. Then toss in a bunch of dog beds and even a TV for ambient noise.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Cori said. “We train the dogs in there all the time, so they’re comfortable with it.”
“How would I get someone in fast enough to do that? Let alone afford it.”
“I know a guy,” Trent said, picking up his phone. “New in town and looking for work. Did a great job repairing my garage.”
“I don’t have the money, Trent.”
“Leap and the net shall appear,” he said.
Bridget scowled at him. “What does that mean?”
“It means things will work out, honey,” Rachel said, patting her shoulder. “Trust the universe.”
Cori snorted. “The universe has been in a foul mood lately.”
Trent got up and came over to the counter. “You’re on for tomorrow. He’s bringing some friends so it can be done in a day.”
“I’ll help,” said Rod, one of the firefighters. “We’re off duty.”
“Count me in,” another one said.
“Guys, seriously, you’re amazing.” Bridget’s eyes filled with tears.
“She’s crying,” Frank said. “Has hell frozen over?”
“Now, stop it,” Rachel said, looking at him pointedly. “What she needs is money.”
“Oh, no. Not another advance.” He backed away with his hands raised.
“Just give her the money.” Rachel wagged her finger at him. “One day you’re going to realize you want her to take over the place so that you can sit in a booth and yell at us. You might as well start laying the groundwork.”
“Take over?” Frank looked baffled.
“Frank, we’re no spring chickens, you and me. Time to start succession planning.”
“Rachel, don’t,” Bridget said. “Frank’s going to be bossing us around a long time yet. At least, I hope so.”
The door opened and a cool breeze blew through the place. Sullivan Shaw stood in the doorway. The counter candy spun on their stools for a better look. Meanwhile, Grace waved eagerly from her table.
Sullivan waved to Grace, but he came directly to the counter. “Thanks for the cookies, Bridget. What a sweet surprise.”
All heads turned to Bridget. And back to Sullivan. And back to Bridget. By which point, her cheeks had practically detonated. “It was smoky,” she said. “Thought I’d warm up the flue.”
He laughed. “Quick study. Impressive.”
“Was that a secret language?” Cori asked.
Trent offered Sullivan his hand and introduced himself. “We’re soundproofing Bridget’s barn tomorrow morning. Want to help?”
Sullivan flashed her a grin. “I could spare some time for a good neighbor.”
Grace’s gentle voice called his name and he turned to join her. All the girls, and even the men, watched him go. There’s was something magnetic about him, Bridget saw. At least she wasn’t the only one who thought so.
When Grace called for another pot of hot water, this time Bridget pretended not to hear. Instead, she followed Frank into the back room.
“Look, I’m sorry Rachel was so pushy on my behalf,” she said.
He sat down at his desk and sighed. “She’s not wrong. One day I’ll want to scale back, at least. And you’re the obvious choice to take over for me.”
“Frank, it’s way too soon to talk like that.”
He shrugged. “At any rate, I’ve been meaning to tell you that I’m proud of you. It’s good to see you settling down.”
“Settling down?”
“The house. The guy out there with his eye on you.”
“Frank, that’s—”
“It all goes so fast, Bridget. I hate to see you scrambling all the time.”
“I’m okay, Frank, really.”
Pulling his check book out of a drawer, he started filling it out. “I’m doing this the old-fashioned way. And you’re going to cash this and give me a charitable receipt, for when you file my taxes.”
Bridget stared at it, eyes glistening. “Can I hug you now?”
“I thought you were hugged out,” he said, getting to his feet.
“Only for strangers. Not family.”
Chapter 17
It was just after sunrise when Bridget awoke to the roar of an engine in the distance. The dogs went crazy, barking and running around the house. They’d become trigger happy, which was the opposite of what they needed to be. With exactly a week to go before they appeared at the pageant and joined their new homes, she wanted to keep the atmosphere as calm as possible. Yet the roar sounded like it was getting closer.
Throwing on her jeans and a sweater, she ran to the door. Coming down the driveway was a yellow backhoe. And driving that backhoe was Sullivan Shaw. When he saw her on the porch, he let out a mighty “Yeehaw” and set the dogs off even more.
“What are you doing?” she called, as he maneuvered the machine in beside her car.
“I didn’t have the bulldozer handy,” he called back. “You know, the one you said I rode into town on.”
“You’re an idiot.” She shook her head, and started laughing. “Honestly.”
He hopped off the backhoe and came up the stairs. “Is that any way to talk to a prince on a charger? You could at least offer coffee.”
A prince? What did he mean by that? Her heart beat a little faster. But then she remembered “a” prince was different from “your” prince. In fact, he was Grace’s prince, not hers. Even though Grace would surely not be as amused at his riding in on a backhoe as she was. The machine would rattle her china dolls on their shelves.
That said, Bridget’s house was rattling, too. The dogs had become absolutely frantic. Beau was making a snarling noise she’d never heard.
“Okay, I’ll make coffee, but you’d better stay outside.” She paused with her hand on the door. “And don’t dig anything up while I’m gone.”
He slapped the side of the backhoe. “Can’t promise anything. This thing is barely tame.”
Bridget opened three cupboards before she found the coffee where it always was. Then she overfilled the pot and spilled water on the floor. Coffee granules crunched underfoot after she missed the filter. It seemed like the dogs weren’t the only ones rattled.
While she fed the dogs, she pondered the last time she’d felt this way. It had been years, she guessed. She’d dated here and there, but no one had ever made her hands shake till the floor was dirty. She didn’t like it. She didn’t like it at all. The percolating feeling inside might put her off at a time she really couldn’t afford to lose focus. Besides, hot and smart and funny as Sullivan Shaw might be, the jury was still out on his principles. He was full-on flirting with her while Grace was probably setting off for the bistro to work over a teabag. So, no, she would not percolate over Sullivan Shaw. He could wait outside alone until chaperones arrived.
She let the dogs out the back door into the fenced side yard, where they yelled some more and she shushed them. Finally, the backhoe started up again, and by the time she got back to the front porch, Sullivan had driven off to the barn.
By that point, other cars were approaching. Soon the
driveway was full. Sullivan was back, and even though he’d been the last one informed about the project, he automatically took over as foreman. Everyone seemed happy to defer to him, even Trent, who was behind the whole scheme. He’d arrived with a contractor named Carver Black. He was the classic tall, dark and handsome type, made even more appealing by the toolbelt he was wearing. Nika and Maisie fluttered around him like pretty moths, helping to unload supplies from Trent’s truck.
“Hang on, Bee,” Duff said, holding her back from joining everyone at the barn. “Have you checked your phone today?”
Bridget shook her head and followed Duff inside the house. There were four emails from the sponsors City Hall had sent her way, and another from Dave at Build Right. Each had regretfully withdrawn support for the pageant.
“What? Why?” Bridget wailed.
“They’re distancing themselves.” Duff put on another pot of coffee. “I assume they don’t want to back someone the CCD is targeting.”
“We need that money to renovate Seaton Dog Park. We made a public commitment.”
Duff pulled all the mugs out of the cupboard and set them on two trays. “We’ll find more sponsors. These guys were in the mayor’s back pocket, that’s all.”
“So now the mayor hates me again?”
“We don’t know that. But we can infer from the withdrawal of his sponsors that City Hall’s pretty chilly right now.”
Dropping onto a kitchen chair, Bridget rubbed her forehead. “It’s a smear campaign. Someone is setting me up.”
She expected Duff to argue with her, but she didn’t. “Maybe. But we’re not out of options yet.”
“It’s only a few days.”
“We work best under pressure, remember?”
The dogs swarmed around, licking Bridget’s hands. “Not this much pressure.”
Pulling cream out of the fridge, Duff added it to the tray. “I’ve already sent out a bunch of emails. I’m sure we’ll be fine. Later, we’ll call Mike, okay?”
“It’s like whack-a-mole. We get one problem solved and another crops up.”
Duff handed her a bag of sugar and the sugar bowl. “Fill that. Sounds like Sullivan likes things sweet.”
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