The Lucky Dog Matchmaking Service

by Beth Kendrick

  “And have fun.”

  “I’m planning to.”

  Kerry paused. “And don’t forget to ask him if he wants kids.”

  “I have to go.”

  “I’m telling you, I could just sit here smelling her head for hours.”

  “Look into baby rehab, you junkie.”

  Lara was still grinning when she walked into the restaurant.

  And there he was, waiting for her, impeccably dressed and right on time: the perfect man.

  Chapter 25

  “This is lovely.” Lara settled back against the plush banquette and took a sip of her sparkling water. “I haven’t been out in forever.”

  As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to cringe. Nothing like opening a first date by talking about your lack of a social life.

  Tim, exuding GQ debonair in a tailored shirt and tie, looked even more handsome by candlelight. “I find that hard to believe, with all the guys you must meet at shows and training classes.”

  “You’d be surprised. Most of the men I work with only call me because their wives or girlfriends make them.” Lara smoothed her hair, which had been relentlessly conditioned, blown dry, and straightened. “As a rule, guys don’t seek out a female trainer.”

  He shot her an arch smile. “They can’t handle an alpha female?”

  Lara smiled back. “Something like that, I guess. So did you enjoy the dog show?”

  “I’ve never seen anything like it. My sister has been breeding dogs for years, and I kept promising to come to a show. I’m glad I finally showed up.” He beckoned Lara in and confided, “I met a cute brunette by the Belgian Malinois.”

  Lara tilted her head. “Good chemistry?”

  “Great chemistry. Even her Bernese mountain dog couldn’t keep her paws off me.”

  Lara pretended to be scandalized. “Shameless hussy.”

  “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with being direct.” They paused as the server stopped by the table to recite the specials.

  Tim gave the menu a cursory glance, then returned his focus to Lara. “What looks good?”

  Lara felt her face suffuse with heat, but managed to maintain eye contact. “Everything.”

  The server took this as his cue to depart for a few minutes.

  This is great, Lara told herself. We’re having fun; we’re flirting; we have good chemistry. . . .

  Sort of.

  The fun and the flirting were definitely present and accounted for, but the chemistry was a bit more elusive. Which made no sense. This guy was attractive, confident, funny, smart—she had to be attracted to him. And she would be, she assured herself, once the initial first-date jitters wore off.

  “So did you grow up with Jack Russells?” she asked.

  “Nah. I’ve always had mutts. Up until last year, I had a husky mix named Uno.”

  “As in the card game?”

  “As in public enemy number one. He was a pain in the ass sometimes, and the shedding was unreal, but he was a great dog.”

  “What happened to him?” Lara held her breath, praying that Tim wouldn’t reply, “I couldn’t deal with the fur and the squeaky toys so I dumped him at the pound.”

  “He got cancer. I spent a ridiculous amount of money on chemo and medication, but in the end, the poor guy was in too much pain. I had to let him go. Sometimes I think about getting another pet, but Uno kind of spoiled me for your average dog.”

  “I understand,” Lara said. “My first dog was a Chihuahua named Beacon, and I haven’t been able to find another dog that I click with the same way.”

  “A Chihuahua? Interesting. I don’t see you as a Chihuahua kind of girl.”

  “I’m not,” she admitted. “Usually, I gravitate toward big, lazy lugs like hounds, but Beacon was one of a kind.”

  They traded dog stories for a few minutes, and then the conversation ventured into more personal territory.

  Lara couldn’t help herself. She asked, “Have you ever gone out with someone who didn’t get along with your dog?”

  Tim adjusted his shirt cuff, looking a bit embarrassed. “It hasn’t been an issue, since I haven’t really dated in a long time.”

  Finding this sudden shyness adorable, Lara teased, “So you don’t normally troll the dog parks, picking up Berners and the brunettes who love them?”

  He glanced back down at the menu. “I was married for five years. This is my first foray back into the social scene.”

  Lara’s smile faded. “How long ago was the divorce?”

  “No divorce.” He swallowed hard. “My wife died just over a year ago. A month before Uno, actually.”

  “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”

  He nodded, accepting her condolences. “It still sounds strange to me, saying that. Valerie was sick for a long time, but somehow I never expected her to actually die.”

  A note of strain and exhaustion crept into his voice. Lara didn’t push for details, but he seemed to feel compelled to provide them.

  “Leukemia,” he said simply. “We found out a month before our wedding, but we were so sure she would beat it. And she did, for a long time. She hung on until the day after our fifth wedding anniversary.”

  Lara hadn’t realized she’d raised her hand to cover her lips until she tried to talk. “That’s . . . I . . .”

  He squared his shoulders and forced a smile. “Oh, man. I swore I wouldn’t do this—play the grieving widower card. My sister gave me strict instructions not to mention Val’s name during dinner tonight. I was offended that she thought she had to point that out. And yet here I am.”

  “Don’t worry,” Lara said. “Your sister will never know. It’ll be our little secret.”

  “That’s what they all say in the beginning.” He rubbed his face with his palms. “Then, next thing I know, you’re blackmailing me for my roadie services, dog grooming, nail clipping. . . . Where will it end?”

  “Hey.” Lara sat back but nudged his foot with hers under the table. “Just think of this as a practice run.”

  “But I don’t want to practice.” He nudged her back. “I spent the last year falling apart, and it’s time to start putting my life back together. I miss Valerie, of course, but it’s more abstract now. I’m trying to readjust to being single, but it’s tough to remember all the rules. Rules like ‘Don’t talk about your dead wife on first dates.’”

  “You’re doing great,” Lara assured him.

  He chuckled. “If I was doing great, you wouldn’t have to tell me ‘you’re doing great.’ You’d be too busy trying to suppress the urge to rip my clothes off.”

  Lara made a big show of sitting on her hands, and they both laughed, but the romantic atmosphere had converted to one of camaraderie. So she relaxed, settled in, and shifted from date mode to friend mode.

  “So you’re not enjoying the single life?” she asked after she’d flagged down the server and ordered an appetizer.

  One side of his mouth tugged up. “I was never that great at dating, to be honest.”

  “What are you talking about?” She practically slugged him on the bicep. “You’re, like, the perfect guy.”

  He also seemed to sense that the nature of this dinner had changed and he adjusted accordingly, loosening his tie and ordering a beer. “Playing the field was never my thing. I liked being married. Everyone warned me that it was going to be boring, but it wasn’t. Val and I had a great time curled up on the couch on Friday nights, watching The Bourne Identity for the eighteenth time.”

  “You two were big Robert Ludlum fans?”

  “I was a Robert Ludlum fan. I think she was more of a Matt Damon fan.” He grinned. “What about you? Have you ever been married?”

  “Almost.” She stalled, taking another sip of water. “My last relationship was pretty serious, but it didn’t work out.”

  “What was the problem?”

  “Well, he wanted to get married.”

  “What an asshole,” Tim deadpanned. “No wonder you broke up.”

 
; “I wanted to get married, too. At first. And then we moved in together and everything fell apart in a matter of weeks.”

  He leaned forward, intrigued. “But you still love him.”

  Lara choked on her water. “What? I do not!”

  “Yeah, you do. You should see your face when you talk about him. You look like Eskie with those big sad eyes.”

  She had to stop hacking before she could reply. “Now you’re comparing me to a dog? That’s not very gentlemanly.”

  “Just your eyes,” he corrected. “And so what if you’re still in love with your ex-boyfriend? It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Hey, I’m still in love with my dead wife. At least you still have a shot at getting back together with your guy.” Before the conversation got somber again, he pushed his plate aside and started talking strategy. “So I guess you’re going to have to be the one to propose next time, huh?”

  “Oh, I don’t think there’s going to be a next time. We’re finished.”

  “You don’t sound finished to me.”

  Lara twisted the napkin in her lap. “At this point, it doesn’t really matter whether I’m finished or not—he’s finished enough for both of us.”

  “I can’t believe that. You’re so pretty, so charming. . . .”

  “I flushed the engagement ring down the toilet.”

  His jaw dropped.

  “He drove me to it.” She provided a quick rundown of Squirrelgate. “Still think I should propose to him?”

  “I think you’re hot enough to pull it off, so yeah.”

  She blushed. “You say that because you haven’t had to deal with me bringing home a bunch of sick strays or using our vacation fund for emergency canine surgery.”

  “Wait. Did he hate the dogs, or did he hate the way the rescue stuff sucked up all your time and energy?”

  Lara furrowed her brow. “I’m not sure. He said I never knew when enough was enough. He said I was never willing to draw a line.”

  Tim rolled the beer glass between his palms. “Was he right?”

  Lara took her time, finishing off her entire glass of water before admitting, “Kind of.” She had to laugh. “This is the worst first date in history.”

  “Yeah, but we’re having a good time.” He looked wistful. “I miss this. Just the companionship, you know? I miss having someone there in bed with me at night. I miss having someone to eat cereal with in the morning.”

  Lara nodded, thinking of Evan. And then she looked back at Tim, a strong man struggling to recover from a devastating loss. A man in need of a lifeline. “You know, Tim, you’re a great guy—”

  “Oh no.” He groaned. “Don’t say that. ‘You’re a great guy’ means I’m not even going to get to kiss you good night.”

  Lara gave him an exasperated look. “We just spent our candlelit dinner date deciding that I’m still hung up on my ex and you’re still grieving for your wife. Why do you even want to kiss me good night?”

  “Because I’m a guy.”

  She had to give him points for honesty. “Fine, you can kiss me good night.”

  He held up his hand for a high five.

  “On the cheek.”

  He withdrew his high-five offer.

  “But I can promise you that you’ll never have to worry about sleeping solo or eating your cereal alone again.” She smiled, thinking about Lucy Fur’s silky brown coat and lack of tolerance for girlfriends. “I may not be the right woman for you, but I’ve got the perfect dog.”

  Chapter 26

  Lara didn’t go to her father’s wedding. Nobody did, except Gil, Trina, and Trina’s parents, since the civil ceremony was held midmorning on a Wednesday. But she met everyone at the celebratory luncheon—Trina’s family, her college roommate, and a few close coworkers.

  The groom’s side of the invite list included only Lara, as far as she could tell. Her paternal grandparents had both died, and Gil wasn’t close to his brother, who lived in Oregon.

  Trina’s family would become Gil’s family, Lara could see. He would spend his future holidays at his in-laws’ dinner table; he would attend barbecues and New Year’s Eve parties with people his wife had known for years.

  Gil officially had a new life now, and much to Lara’s surprise, she didn’t feel shut out. Instead, she was grateful. Because she could finally stop worrying about him, and wondering if he would ever settle into a steady, normal routine.

  Trina sat to the right of Gil at the meal, and Lara sat to his left. She laughed at all his jokes and raised her glass for every toast, but she did not make a speech of her own. She hugged him as she finished dessert and prepared to slip away and let him go until the next time he felt like connecting.

  But her father grabbed her hand as she pushed back her chair.

  “Wait,” he said. “I need to talk to you.”

  She heard the expectation and determination in his voice and wanted to race for the exit, but she stayed.

  She stayed because he asked and she couldn’t say no.

  And when the meal was over and the guests had departed, Gil guided Lara outside to a whitewashed wooden bench on the restaurant patio. He sat with his back to the sun, leaving her shading her eyes with her hand and squinting while his new bride stood behind him, plucking at the skirt of the understated cream cocktail dress she’d settled for in lieu of a frothy white wedding gown.

  “I love you, La-la.” Gil smiled at her and slung one arm across the back of the bench.

  “I . . . love you, too,” she said slowly.

  He took a deep breath and launched into his pitch. “Do you remember how, growing up, you always used to beg for a sibling?”

  * * *

  “So, you know my dad,” Lara said to Kerry that evening as they tossed tennis balls for the dogs in Kerry’s backyard while Richard—home for twenty-four hours between business trips—gave Cynthia a bath.

  “No, not really,” Kerry said.

  “Okay, well, you know of my dad.” Lara knelt to accept the slobber-soaked green ball Linus offered, then stood up and lobbed it as far as she could. Linus streaked off after it, surprisingly speedy for a dog built like a tank.

  “I know that you have a father, yes.”

  “Well, he got married today.”

  “On a Wednesday?”

  “It was a simple civil ceremony, no frills. Anyway, we all had lunch afterward, and he pulled me aside to tell me that he and Trina, his new wife, want to have kids.”

  “Oh boy. Isn’t she, like, your age?”

  “Yeah, but that’s not the problematic part. Just wait for it.” Lara had to wait a few moments herself. Repeating all of this to Kerry was making the whole thing a little too real. “Trina can’t carry a baby to term. I don’t remember all the gory details, but something about ovarian irregularities and cysts.”

  “This story better not be going where I think it’s going.”

  “Wait for it,” Lara repeated. “So since the doctor says it’s unlikely she’ll be able to carry a baby to term—”

  “Shut up! He wants you to be their surrogate?”

  “No.” Lara closed her eyes. “That would be an easy call: hell, no. I might be a pushover, but even I draw the line at hormone injections and carrying somebody else’s baby. Especially after seeing you deliver Cynthia.”

  “Painful, exhausting, and a bit fluid-y for my tastes,” Kerry agreed. “But worth every moment.”

  “You’re just saying that because you’re high on hormones. Anyway, here’s the deal: He and Trina are looking into adoption, and they want me to write them a letter of recommendation that will go out to the caseworkers, potential birth moms, whoever. They want me to spend at least two pages raving about what a great father my dad is.”

  Kerry shot her a sidelong glance. “So they’re asking you to lie.”

  “Kind of, I guess.”

  “What do you mean, you guess?” Kerry practically spit out her gum in outrage. “Your dad wasn’t around for eighty percent of your childhood. I’ve been your b
est friend for five years, and I’ve never even met the man.”

  “True.”

  “And when he does bother to see you, it’s always on his timetable and usually at the last minute.”

  “Also true. But that doesn’t mean he’s a bad person. He’s just”—Lara searched for the right word—“limited.”

  “Yeah, and you’re the one who suffers for his limitations.” Kerry scooped up the tennis ball and hucked it for Maverick, who tripped over his own paws in his haste to retrieve it. “He’s unreliable and he makes promises he has no intention of keeping.”

  “To be fair, I think he does intend to keep them.” Lara sighed. “Anyway, I want to believe in his potential. I really do. He’s starting a new life, and Trina seems great, and, well . . . what if he’s changed?”

  Kerry just looked at her.

  “What? It could happen. Isn’t that why we founded Lucky Dog? Because we believe in the potential for growth and second chances?”

  “For wayward Westies. Not for grown men who walk away from their families just because they’re not feeling it. From what you’ve told me, it sounds like he was your buddy who would help you break curfew or whatever once a month, then disappear whenever the going got tough.”

  “He did let me get my belly button pierced. Oh, and he paid for my spiral perm, although I think that was just a passive-aggressive dig at my mom.” Lara had started to notice that she couldn’t have even a short discussion about her father without overusing the word but. “But there are a lot of kids out there who need a good home. And who am I to judge?”

  “You’re the kid he’s already parented,” Kerry pointed out. “I’d say that makes you uniquely qualified to judge.”

  “But what if he really has changed this time?”

  Kerry tossed a rope chew to Rufus and Maverick so they could play tug-of-war. “Okay, have it your way. What if he has?”

  Lara watched the dogs for a minute, then reclaimed the tennis ball from Linus and held it up. “The whole thing with my dad is kind of like me, Linus, and this tennis ball. My dad is me, and I’m Linus.”

  “Who’s the tennis ball?” Kerry asked.