Man's Best Friend (The Dogmothers Book 6)
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Man’s Best Friend
The Dogmothers
Book Six
Roxanne St. Claire
Man’s Best Friend
THE DOGMOTHERS BOOK SIX
Copyright © 2020 South Street Publishing
This novel is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
All rights to reproduction of this work are reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission from the copyright owner. Thank you for respecting the copyright. For permission or information on foreign, audio, or other rights, contact the author, roxanne@roxannestclaire.com.
ISBN Ebook: 978-1-952196-09-6
ISBN Print: 978-1-952196-10-2
COVER DESIGN: The Killion Group, Inc.
INTERIOR FORMATTING: Author E.M.S.
Table of Contents
MAN’S BEST FRIEND
Copyright
Before The Dogmothers…
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
A Dogfather/Dogmothers Family Reference Guide
About the Author
Before
The Dogmothers…
there was
The Dogfather!
Sit…Stay…Beg – book one
New Leash on Life – book two
Leader of the Pack – book three
Santa Paws is Coming to Town – book four (a holiday novella)
Bad to the Bone – book five
Ruff Around the Edges – book six
Double Dog Dare – book seven
Bark! The Herald Angels Sing – book eight (a holiday novella)
Old Dog New Tricks – book nine
The Dogmothers Series
Hot Under the Collar – book one
Three Dog Night – book two
Dachshund Through the Snow – book three (a holiday novella)
Chasing Tail – book four
Hush, Puppy – book five
Man’s Best Friend – book six
Feliz Naughty Dog – book seven (a holiday novella)
And more to come!
Note to readers: For a complete guide to all of the characters in both The Dogfather and Dogmothers series, see the back of this book. Or visit www.roxannestclaire.com for a printable reference, book lists, buy links, and reading order of all my books. Be sure to sign up for my newsletter to find out when the next book is released! And join the private Dogfather Facebook group at https://www.facebook.com/groups/roxannestclairereaders/ for inside info on all the books and characters, sneak peeks, and a place to share the love of tails and tales!
Acknowledgements
Hugs of gratitude to the experts who backed me up on this one. Much love to Associate Veterinarian Christine Horne (with certifications in Canine Rehabilitation, Acupuncture and Spinal Manipulation or Chiropractic). She helped me heal Judah, so I named a character after her. Also, Silver James, retired member of the fire service and law enforcement, who has stepped in on so many occasions when I’ve written a firefighter hero, making sure I’ve got it all right. And finally, air kisses to beta reader Lorie Humpherys, who not only talked me off the ledge but actually came out there with me to guide me back with great ideas and a gentle touch. Shout out to my developmental editor Kristi Yanta and copyeditor Joyce Lamb, part of the amazing team behind me on every book. Y’all rock.
Chapter One
Twenty Years Ago
“To Declan Mahoney,” Evie said as she raised a paper cup of pilfered Jameson’s, “my friend who is like a banana.”
Declan snorted and rolled his eyes. “Ah, boy. Here it comes.”
“’Cause he’s so…” She leaned closer to whisper, “A-peeling.”
He groaned, but a smile lifted his lips as he raised his glass. “To Evie Hewitt, the punniest person I know.”
They put the cups to their lips, but Evie didn’t take a sip. Instead, she gazed right into dark eyes so familiar and comforting, she couldn’t bear to look away.
“Drink it up, buttercup.”
She shook her head. “No, I want to do a better birthday toast. No jokes this time.” She lifted the paper cup again. “Here’s to my best friend since, wow, life began?”
“Since you got bumped up to third grade from second because you’re so smart.”
“On our birthday!”
Declan shook his head but couldn’t help smiling. “You waltzed into Mrs. Burley’s classroom and announced it was your birthday. On my birthday.”
She threw her head back with a hearty laugh. “And my mom used glitter frosting to add your name to my pink Care Bears cake because that’s all she had.”
“Totally wrecked my playground cred for the rest of the year.” His eyes sparked with humor.
She leaned back to look at him, wanting to drag out the toast as long as possible. For the whole night, actually. Because there was no better way to spend their shared birthday than alone in the mountains at midnight, a teeny bit tipsy, looking into each other’s eyes.
“Here we go,” she said. “The real toast. To my best friend.”
“You sure about that now?”
“Well, except for the time he unfairly beat me—some might say he actually cheated me—out of a win in the seventh-grade Bitter Bark spelling bee—”
“Come on, E,” he said on a laugh. “You missed duffel, fair and square.”
“I did not miss it.” She reached over and brushed a lock of his dark hair off his forehead, something she didn’t normally do with her friends, but tonight…everything was different. Even the view over the lake where they always camped was different, but that was because Declan had driven to the opposite side to a far more secluded and private section than the one they’d always gone to.
And she knew why. Tonight, they were so ready to step outside the comfort of their friendship and find…a different kind of comfort. The kind that required seclusion.
“Where was I?” she asked, a little lost.
“Griping about the spelling bee when you flubbed duffel.”
“Because the second spelling in the dictionary is D-U-F-F-L-E,” she informed him. “And the only reason they gave it to you was because half the people in the auditorium were named Mahoney or Kilcannon.” She added a jab to his shoulder, loving how hard firefighter training had made his muscles. “How could I fight the Irish Mafia of Bitter Bark?”
“Says the last remaining direct descendant of Thaddeus Ambrose Bushrod. The girl who literally waves from the lead convertible in the Founder’s Day parade every stinking year.”
She looked skyward. “
Oh God, please let me have a midterm on October 22 this year so I can avoid the parade.”
“What? Big Bad Thad would roll over in his grave if you don’t represent the first family of Bitter Bark.” He inched a fraction closer, giving her the faintest whiff of his indescribably masculine scent, as intoxicating as the Blue Ridge Mountains air and the golden liquid in their paper cups. “Plus, I get a secret thrill when that car goes by.”
And she got a secret thrill when his voice got low and sexy like that.
“Did you know…” He brushed some hair back from her face now, hooking it over her ear, holding her gaze one heartbeat past what a friend would do. “I always get there early so I can get a Prime Evie Viewing Spot on the top stair of town hall.”
“Then you’re crazier than I thought.”
“Yup.” He shrugged. “Are you finished toasting? Or are you going to dredge up the time I backed into your dad’s brand-new Mercedes while trying to navigate the Gloriana House driveway in reverse?”
“Just smashed right into it. Oof. He was mad.” She chuckled at the memory, then inhaled that scent again, still lost. “So, where was I?”
“Setting the record for the longest birthday toast in history.”
She slipped her lower lip under her teeth and sat up a little straighter. “Okay, fine.”
“Bring it home now, E.”
On one more sigh, she lifted the cup again. “To the boy who shares my birthday, the kid who can spell but can’t drive in reverse, and the man…” I am dying to kiss. “Who can now legally purchase this stuff so we won’t have to steal your Gramma Finnie’s stash.” She tapped her Dixie cup to his. “Happy twenty-first, Dec.”
He pinned those chocolate eyes on her and never looked away while they knocked back their shots, which made her choke on the whiskey burn.
“There’s my little lightweight.”
She managed to get the liquor down her throat. “Shut up. You were raised on this juice.”
He poured two more shots, but hers barely covered the bottom of the cup. Of course he didn’t want her to get hammered up here on their annual birthday camp-out. Declan was always looking after her. “My turn, birthday girl?”
She shuddered as the whiskey hit her belly. “Your turn.” She lifted her cup. “Hit me with your best toast, baby.”
He cleared his throat and looked into her eyes again and, once more, she was gooey right down to her toes. How did this happen? When did every thought about Declan go from whether they’d play a game of pickup basketball to whether they’d…make out?
“Okay…” He made a face. “I’m trying to think of a worthy pun.”
“I know it’s a challenge for you.” She winked at him. “But you try, and I love that.”
“Here’s to Evie…as intoxicating as this whiskey.”
“Not bad.” She dipped closer. “A for effort and the nicely buried compliment.”
“Right?” He lifted the drink. “Okay, let’s go with, here’s to the girl who proved to Bitter Bark High that you can be hot and make an endless stream of bad jokes.”
“You think I’m hot?” Nothing buried about that compliment.
He just snorted as if the question was too dumb to answer. “I raise my glass to the future Doctor—”
“If you say Dolittle, I’m gonna pour this over your head.”
“Doctor Evangeline Hewitt, destined to become a world-class veterinary neurologist.”
“Oh.” The seriousness of the toast surprised her, but not the pride in his voice. He always sounded like that when he talked about her dream career. “As soon as I finish ten more years of vet school, specialty training, rotations and residencies, and certification.”
“Which you have mapped out like the ambitious creature you are. Anyway, it’ll be worth it, Evie. I’ll just be a small-town firefighter—”
“Pffft. By the time I finish school and training, you’ll be captain, like your dad is.” She lifted her brows. “And then on to the pinnacle, Chief Mahoney.”
“And you’ll be a literal brain surgeon.”
“Animal brain surgeon.”
“No less amazing.” He lowered his cup a bit. “You, Evie, are amazing.”
“Aww. Is that your toast? To my amazingness?”
“Yes. To your unparalleled amazingness.” He touched his cup to hers. “And the hope that this is the year…” She saw him swallow and then inhale slowly. “That we’re not friends anymore.”
Her hand froze on the way to her lips. “Oh. That’s not a joke.”
“No, it is not.”
So this was it. Tonight. “I’ll drink to that.”
He smoked her with a look that was somehow sexy and suggestive without having to say a word before tossing back his shot.
She took a tiny sip that did little more than wet her lips. She didn’t need it. She was drunk on possibilities. “It’s been different this summer,” she said on a whisper.
“Yeah, it has.”
Ever since she’d returned to Bitter Bark at the end of her junior year at NC State, their friendship had intensified to something new and physical and humming with tension.
Casual touches had been more frequent. Hugs goodbye had lasted longer. Their conversations, always honest, had gotten deep and thoughtful and adult, especially when they talked about why neither of them was in a relationship. And this afternoon while they were swimming in the lake? All that unnecessary and electrifying body contact had only made this freakishly hot August day even hotter.
In fact, it seemed like the whole summer had been leading up to this, their annual birthday camping trip when they’d be alone all night, with no friends, families, or parents expecting them home before sunrise. Tonight, no one even knew where they were.
Her head buzzed with a mix of anticipation and desire and maybe a little of Gramma Finnie’s Jameson’s, making her fall back on the rough blanket, still warm after the sweltering day.
“How many times do you think we’ve come up to this lake on our birthday?” she asked.
“Oh, I don’t know. First time, we were really young. Maybe when I turned twelve and you were eleven? You came with my family when my brothers and I were each allowed to bring a friend.”
“I remember that. I was so honored to be the friend you picked. And your dad brought those big inner tubes, and your sister was practically still a toddler, making your mom so nervous every time she got near the water.”
“Smella Mahoney. Making mothers crazy since 1988.”
Evie closed her eyes and remembered how fun it had been as an only child to be with that big family. “You think we’ll come back in the future, Dec?”
“Sure.” The total lack of hesitation made her smile.
“Like when I’m finally a vet and you’re the fire captain?”
“Of course.”
“How about when we’re really old?” she asked. “When I’m wrinkled like my Grandmama Penelope?”
“And I’m gray and fat enough to play Santa at the fire station.” He patted his stomach, which was anything but fat. She fought the temptation to reach over and explore the muscles he’d developed while hauling hoses and lifting ladders at BBFD.
He held her gaze, his smile fading, his eyes intense.
“What?” she asked with a half-smile.
“You ready to play?” he asked.
Heat curled through her. “Is that what you call it?”
He laughed and poked her in the side, making her giggle. “The Birthday Game. What did you think I meant?”
“Umm…the We’re Not Just Friends Anymore Game?” She added a flirtatious smile.
“That’s not a game, E. That’s serious business.”
Her whole body grew heavy at the husky tone in his voice. “Okay.” She rolled onto her side and propped her head up. “Birthday Game, then. You go first.”
He slid down next to her, matching her position so they were face-to-face. “Best movie this year.”
“Hmm. Tie between Erin B
rockovich and Dinosaur.”
“The kids’ movie, Dinosaur? You saw that?” he asked.
“Twice. It got me through finals last semester. Also a few long calls with a certain firefighter when things were slow at the Bitter Bark station.”
That made him smile. “Well, you’re nothing if not eclectic. I’m going with Gladiator.”
“You’re nothing if not predictable. Biggest personal victory?”
“Probie graduation.” He tapped her nose. “Thanks again for coming back for it.”
“Wouldn’t dream of missing your big day. My biggest victory was getting the job at your uncle’s vet office this summer. I can’t believe how much I’m learning. Dr. Kilcannon is a brilliant vet, and your cousin Molly? She’s young, but I love working with her. On our lunch breaks, we plan the vet practice we’re going to open together someday.”
“They love having you there. Okay. Let’s get the bad one over with. Worst day of the past year?”
“I hate this one,” she said, making a face. “This past year? I guess when I took that B-minus in microbiology. Gah, that hurt.”
“The brain trust takes a B.”
“Minus.”
He grinned at her. “Unheard of.”
“It should be. What was your worst day of the past year, Dec?”
“That fire out on Red Oak Road,” he answered without a second’s hesitation. “First real big one for me, and man, if my dad hadn’t been leading me into that warehouse and watching out for me every step of the way, I’m not sure I’d have made it out.”