“Not your home,” Gabe said mildly. “It’s mine. You’re welcome to leave anytime if I’m too loud for you.”
There were two points of interest in Dax’s long-winded whine. Brad already knew of Gabe’s reputation with the ladies, so he turned to the other one. “You can fly a seaplane?” He knew Dax was an adventure guide. Knew he was reckless, or stupid, enough to free-climb the county courthouse and get caught. He didn’t know the guy was a pilot. That took more dedication and attention to detail than Brad had thought him capable of.
“I can fly, drive, or ride anything.”
“That’s great, hotshot,” Gabe said, not looking impressed. “The dogs are still waiting for their walk. Think you can handle that, or do you want to bitch some more?”
Bending, Dax swiped some trailing leashes off the floor. He found the other waiting dogs, and stomped out the back door of the kennels.
“I’m starting to think he’s seriously overqualified to be our dog walker.” Brad’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out. Saw that the text was a list of more things Izzy had confirmed for the banquet, and smiled.
Your organizational skills are hot, he responded.
“Overqualified or not, he did the crime.” Pulling a treat from his pocket, Gabe fed it to Max. “He’s lucky his punishment is playing around with dogs. That’s a pretty sweet deal.”
Brad’s phone buzzed again, and the emoji of a water tap filling a glass appeared. Something to help you cool off. Shaking his head, he put his phone away. “So, the woman last night. Mean anything?”
Gabe lifted a shoulder. “She meant a hell of a lot to me last night. This morning, not so much.”
“Jesus, you can be an asshole.”
Max growled quietly, and Brad gave him a wary glance.
Gabe scratched behind the dog’s ears. “The women know what they’re in for. I’m up-front with them that it won’t be going anywhere but the bedroom.”
Brad slowly shook his head. “Closing yourself off like that isn’t healthy, man. I know you have a shit opinion of people, but some of them are pretty great.”
Gabe gave him the side-eye. “Like your woman? I take it things went well.”
“Really well.” He let Gabe drop the subject of his own jackassery with the female sex. It was a never-ending argument between the two. But talking about Izzy was much more fun. “I don’t want to jinx anything, but I think this one could be serious.”
“She’s got a kid.” Gabe’s tone wasn’t warning. Just factual.
“I like her kid. But yeah, I know that means I have to work harder. There’s too much at stake if I mess up.”
Gabe snorted. “I’m not worried about you messing up. You’ve known this woman a couple of weeks and I can already tell you’d go to the mats for her. She’s the unknown variable.”
“Izzy’s great.” Lacing his fingers together behind his head, he relaxed back against the wall. “She acts all stern and serious, but underneath she’s sweet. And damn giving.” He shifted his legs, remembering everything she’d given him the morning before. He’d spent Saturday night at her house, got some quality time in with her Sunday morning before she had to go collect Ana. While she’d been gone, Brad had picked up a pizza and brought it back to her house for lunch for the three of them. They’d spent Sunday afternoon going over the plans for the banquet and playing footsie under the table so Ana wouldn’t notice.
All in all, the weekend had been perfect. “She’s done pretty much all the work organizing the banquet, for an award she doesn’t want, because she wants to help us fund-raise.”
“Getting her name out in the community will help her, too,” Gabe pointed out.
Brad ignored him. “And she’s started creating a budget for Forever Friends. She’s getting me bids from some plumbers she knows to save us money.” He’d finally nailed her down yesterday on that point, and a plumber was scheduled to inspect the damage this afternoon. “I don’t know if you can understand this, but I feel like I’ve been fighting alone for a long time.” Battling his illness. His parents and their disapproval of leaving his engineering firm. Getting his shelter off the ground. “She’s on my team now, fighting with me, and it’s pretty damn nice.”
Gabe was silent a moment. “You know I’m on your team, too, right?”
“Yeah. But it’s different with her.” Gabe was there for him, no doubt. But he wouldn’t have picked up the ball on the fund-raiser and run with it; he wouldn’t have known how. He’d be there for Brad when the chips were down, willing to bloody his knuckles or break his back to help, but Gabe was just as useless as Brad when it came to tactics. “You can’t do what Iz does.”
Gabe made a choking sound in the back of his throat. “I hope not. That would be yet another team that I’m not on.”
“Your loss.” Brad pushed his joined hands out in front of him, palms out, cracking his knuckles. “According to Iz, I’m damn good. You’d be lucky to have me.”
“I think I just threw up a little in my mouth.”
The bell above the front door rang, and Brad clambered to his feet. “Don’t be jealous,” he said and walked to the cage door. Something pelted him in the back of the head, and a treat fell to the floor. Max rolled to his paws and cleaned it up.
Chuckling, Brad strode across the kennels to the glass door and pushed through it to the lobby. Debbie Garcia and Eugenie Shaw stood behind the high receptionist desk, setting up laptops and tablets. Eugenie’s dog, Shep, lay in front of the desk, a big ball of brown and gray hair. Debbie’s new puppy played with Shep’s tail. The older dog heaved a martyred sigh.
“Your office is too cramped, so we’re setting up here.” Eugenie pulled a clip from her steel-gray hair and lifted her round hat off her head, placing it on the corner of the desk. “Get us another chair, will you?”
Brad scooted past them and down the hall to his office. He dragged his and Brad’s chairs out and down the hallway. He placed Brad’s nicer executive chair beside the receptionist’s chair that Debbie had already claimed and held it out for Eugenie. He flipped his wood one around and straddled it.
“What am I looking at?” he asked. There were three screens open before him, all showing a picture of a dog and some text. Debbie’s new puppy was featured prominently. There was also a picture of the yellow Lab, Stephanie, and Hercule in his wheelchair.
“Your revamped website.” Eugenie clicked a button, and one of the computers blinked to the new home page of Forever Friends. The header bar had the shelter’s name in a clear script with three stylized paw prints dotting the edges. The picture of a cute Boston terrier, his head cocked questioningly at the camera, was right below, along with a paragraph introducing the shelter.
“This looks great.” He scrolled down and flipped between the pages. “Really, you two did an exceptional job.”
“It did come out nice,” Debbie said. She brushed a bit of dust off the screen. “We still want to take more pictures. We’re thinking about setting up a Featured Dog of the Week page.” She gazed fondly at her puppy. “Sampson will, of course, be the first feature.”
Eugenie pinched her lips together. “The featured dog should be one that still needs adopting. Not one that already has a home.”
This sounded like a long-brewing argument that Brad wanted no part of. “Sampson has two siblings still waiting for adoption. Maybe if you show Sampson and say that his sister and brother, who look just like him, are waiting for their forever homes, that would drive in customers.”
Debbie lifted her chin, shooting a victorious look at her friend.
“Fine.” Eugenie huffed. “Sampson can stay.” Behind the desk, Shep whimpered. “But the picture that’s had the best response so far is the one of the French bulldog in the wheelchair. We posted it Saturday and already have thirty-three comments.”
“Comments? People are commenting on the site?”
He didn’t even know people could comment on his site, much less that they would. He rocked forward onto two legs of his chair, his chest pressing against the backrest, and squinted at the screen.
“Of course. We want your site to be community building.” Cocking her head, Eugenie tapped a finger to her lips. “I think we should move this section to the About Us page,” she murmured to Debbie. “Keep this as a landing page for newsletter sign-ups.”
“Wait. What newsletter?” He didn’t have time to write a newsletter. And what the hell would he talk about?
“Don’t worry.” Debbie patted his hand, her thick rings knocking against his knuckles. “We’ll come up with the monthly content. It will mostly be dog pictures and cute stories.”
“We’ll want more pictures of your handicapped dogs,” Eugenie said. “If that’s where your response is heaviest, that’s where we should focus.”
“I thought they were commenting because they liked Hercule.” He scrolled to some of the comments and tried to read them over Debbie’s shoulder.
Eugenie pulled a red-and-white disc from her sweater’s pocket and unwrapped it. “The dog is fine, but it’s the device he’s using that really drew interest. People wanting to know how they can get one like it.” She popped the candy in her mouth.
“Huh.” He’d never really thought of his devices as something people would be interested in. When he walked a dog with one of them, sure, they got a lot of attention. But he got attention any time he walked his dogs.
He stood. “Well, I can’t thank you ladies enough. The site looks great, and Izzy’s already shown me the proofs for the program we’ll have at the banquet. Your names are front and center with our gratitude and the link to your business. And if anyone sees this site, I can’t see why they wouldn’t hire you.”
The women preened, but their pride was well deserved. There was no comparison between his old site and this new one. The two septuagenarians could have a solid web design business on their hands if they wanted.
Bending, he kissed each of them on their wrinkled cheeks and showed them out. Picking up the chairs, he headed to his office and put them back in place. Brad scratched at the tightness in his chest. The two women, well into retirement age, had educated themselves on IT and were hanging out a shingle. They probably had a business plan and everything.
And Brad was running his shelter month to month, barely getting by. A seed of disgust took root in his gut and bloomed. His parents hadn’t been the greatest role models when it came to living happy and emotionally healthy lives, but maybe he shouldn’t have thrown out all their lessons. His dad’s success had meant that they’d never had to worry if they could pay the mortgage or put their son through college.
His father would have had money socked away to pay for a plumber.
He plopped onto his chair and picked up the latest mobility device he’d been working on. A prosthetic limb for one of Gabe’s patients, an Akita that had lost his left front leg after being hit by a car. It was still in its testing phase, and he wasn’t sure the dog would ever be able to walk on it.
Digging out his tool kit from the bottom drawer of his desk, he adjusted the knee hinge, his mind whirling.
If he was truly serious about helping as many dogs as he could, he needed to make the shelter as strong as possible. Maybe it was time he stopped dicking around, started taking his business seriously. Maybe it was time he came up with a plan of his own.
* * * *
Despite her amazing weekend, Izzy’s good mood had soured faster than milk in one-hundred-degree heat. She couldn’t believe that snake was trying to steal another client that by rights should be hers. All her resolutions about starting fresh with her coworker flew out the window. And it was only Monday.
“Did I hear my name?” Izzy strode up behind Tariq, enjoyed his slight flinch, and smiled brightly at the woman standing by her desk. The woman towered a good five inches over Izzy’s five-six frame. She wore her long hair in a sleek side ponytail, and the peach and apricot highlights in her blond locks looked like they cost a fortune. She wore a silk sheath dress with a Dior scarf draped over her shoulders that probably cost more than Izzy’s first car.
All in all, a plum client. If Tariq would butt out. “I’m Izzy Lopez. Can I help you?”
The woman stuck out her hand, her grip firm. “And I’m Marla Popov. I told your associate here that I wanted to work with the woman who’d saved the dogs, but he seemed to think you weren’t available. Said he was here to lighten your load.”
“I’m never too busy to talk.” An evil little idea wormed its way into her brain. “It has been busy lately, but luckily my coworkers have my back. We’re all eager to help each other out.” Leaning across her desk, she picked up a folder of leases she was supposed to review for their rental clients. It was mind-numbing work, and she had been falling behind on the chore. “Thanks for wanting to help out, Tariq. Here are some leases to review and forward to our clients. How about taking that on while I speak with Marla?”
Tariq’s eyebrows drew together, and he looked like he had to bite back a snarky reply.
“Thanks so much.” Cupping Marla’s elbow, she guided her down the hall toward the conference room. She looked over her shoulder. “Oh, and they should be emailed to our clients by five today. I’ll be sure to tell Liz how helpful you were.”
He shot her a death glare but didn’t dare argue in front of a potential client. Before stepping into the conference room, she quickly shot off an email to her boss, cc’ing Tariq about the change. How generous Tariq had been offering to “lighten her load” and help with the leases. Without an ounce of remorse, she tapped Send and shut down her gleeful smile before joining Marla at the wide table.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” Izzy asked. “We have still and sparkling water and coffee.”
“Sparkling would be great.”
Izzy pulled a bottle out from the small refrigerator under the side console table and handed it to her. “So, Ms. Popov, what brings you here today?” She grabbed a pad and pen from the side table and sat down next to the woman.
“Call me Marla.” Playing with the thick amber necklace lying snug against her throat, she sat back and crossed her long legs. “And I’m here because I’m in the market for a summer cabin. Someplace I can take my dog and get away from the hustle and bustle.”
Nothing about the three towns in Crook County hustled or bustled. And Izzy had to admit she was a tad disappointed. Cabins dotted the wooded areas in central Michigan, a lot of them charming and fun to spend a weekend at, but none that would command a hefty commission. Still, she was in the business of getting people what they wanted, the size of her commission be damned.
“All right. Do you know what area you’re looking at?”
She shrugged, making the gesture look elegant. “I don’t know. I want a to-die-for view, and of course it has to have cell coverage.”
“Were you thinking one bedroom or two?”
“Oh, at least five, I should think.” Marla extended her leg and examined her pedicure, visible through the open toe of her sandals. “I do adore throwing parties and would need a place for everyone to stay. And it should have a pool and hot tub, of course. Maybe a solarium and sauna.”
Izzy blinked and bent her head to take notes. This cabin was sounding more like a mansion. An expensive, fat-commission mansion. Her good mood was restored. Not as good as when Brad had left her last night, taking his time kissing her goodbye, but still a solid seven out of ten on the happy scale.
She peeked at the large emerald on the woman’s right hand. Cushion cut and surrounded by diamonds. Yes, this woman might make her very, very happy.
They discussed features and price ranges, and Izzy told Marla she’d send her some options she might be interested in. Marla slung her Hermès purse over her shoulder and stood.
Izzy joined her at the door.
“So, you saw my name in the paper?” She was going to have to thank Brad again for that absurd news story. The list of things she should thank him for was adding up.
“Yes, but that’s not the reason I came to you. I wouldn’t be so foolish as to think that just because a woman likes dogs, that would make her a good real estate agent.” Marla took a sip of her water, screwed the top back on, and shoved it into her purse. “I was at a friend’s cocktail party when I overheard Bob Burker talking about how much he liked working with you. Said you’d convinced him to sell his property on Route 84.”
Had she now? That was news to Izzy. She pressed her lips together. And unwelcome news. If Bob had made a decision, his tenants should be the first to know. Brad needed to know.
The back of her throat went thick. Getting kicked out of his space was going to be a blow. She needed to have a substitute location she could recommend before he got the news. Something she could present to him as a package, with rent and specs, that would make the bitter pill go down easier.
She showed Marla to the front door, promising to be in touch, and turned back toward the office. Tariq sat at his desk, a pair of cheaters perched on his nose, a scowl twisting his lips. He didn’t look up when she approached. “You could have given me the digital copies of these at least so I could blow up the type size.”
“I’ll send the digital copies over to you now. And I’ll take the last half if you keep working through the front.”
He looked up, a line creasing his forehead. “You’re taking back some of the grunt work?”
Slipping her hands into her jacket pockets, she nodded. “It was childish of me to fob it off on you. But you messed with my business, and I reacted.” She took a deep breath and steeled herself to do the adult thing. The right thing. “I understand that we’re rivals, but there’s no reason our competition should be ugly. I’ll play aboveboard from now on if you will. And if you ever need help with something, I’m ready to give it.”
He looked skeptical. “What’s the catch?”
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