Puppy Love by the Sea

by Traci Hall

  “Perfect.” His deep voice rumbled over her taut nerves.

  He held out the chair for her to sit, politely scooting her in. “Thank you.”

  Sarah was pretty sure tension would get the better of her and she wouldn’t be able to eat over this newly discovered attraction to a man way out of her dating pool. Not even in the same universe. His dining room table cost as much as her work truck.

  Franco served Bella, and then Sarah, apologizing, “Sorry, I’ve just gotten used to dishing things out.”

  “It’s fine,” she said, kicking herself. What to talk about to be an interesting dinner companion? “Everything smells delicious. But then again, you’ve witnessed my culinary efforts.”

  “That last batch of dog treats was really terrific,” he said with a wink. “And you make great juice.”

  Sarah put her napkin in her lap, thankful for the lessons in deportment her mother drilled into her head. Bread on the left, drinks on the right. Start with the outer fork first and move in from there.

  These people lived daily in a world of luxury, whereas she was the occasional visitor. She didn’t dwell on the comparison. Sarah truly loved the life she’d chosen for herself. She cut into her steak, took a bite and sighed. “I’ve never had anything this delicious. Never.”

  “Try it with a bite of rice,” Franco said. “It’s the marinade, of course, and the herbed butter. No dieting here!”

  Bella’s table manners were impeccable. Napkin in her lap, food cut into bite-sized pieces, no elbows to be found. “This is so good. But I’m full, Daddy. Can I be excused to watch cartoons?”

  “You are trying to get extra television time because we have a guest,” Franco declared.

  Right on the money, going by Bella’s crestfallen face. “Sorry, Sarah,” she said.

  “I am still eating, so I don’t mind at all, if it’s okay with your dad.”

  Bella switched her gaze toward her father, and Sarah watched him melt. “For half an hour. In English.”

  Bella, all smiles again, scampered away. “Thank you Daddy!” Paisley followed her as if fairly certain there would be crumbs.

  “She has me wrapped around her finger,” Franco said as she left, then shrugged and cut another piece of steak.

  “English? She speaks so well. I can’t believe it’s thanks to watching cartoons.” Sarah smiled, wondering if that system worked. Her cousin’s kids were all addicted to Dora, and learned a little bit of Spanish along the way.

  “We raised Bella bilingual, with an American nanny. Sometimes she likes to watch her cartoons in Spanish.” He poured the rest of his beer into the glass.

  “But you are from Brazil?” Sarah thought back to World History class. “You speak Portuguese?”

  “Similar,” he said, taking a drink. “Close enough for Bella when she feels homesick.”

  Sarah speared a piece of pink-in-the-center steak. The meat had been crusted with herbs before he’d grilled. “She’s really cute. And right now? Easy to please,” Sarah laughed. “Just wait until she wants a car.” She bit off the end and chewed.

  Franco didn’t smile like she’d hoped. Instead, he nodded, meeting her eye to eye. “I don’t want her to be a spoiled woman. Too much of everything ruined her mother.”

  Oh, hell. Sarah swallowed the steak stuck in her throat and quickly drank some of her beer. “I’m sorry.” Dumb thing to say. “I mean, I don’t know what happened in your past, but I’m sorry for the pain it caused—you and Bella. You both seem like you are doing all right.”

  His face hardened, then he shook his head and forced a smile. “We are. Bella and I love the ocean, so this was the first place I thought of when it was time to relocate. Bianca, her mother, my wife, was famous in Europe. She overdosed.” Franco gritted his teeth. “Suicide. Bella discovered her mother in the bathtub, dressed in a black slip with a note clutched in her hand.”

  The food turned to sawdust in Sarah’s mouth. “Poor Bella.” Poor Franco. Why was he sharing this with her? Too much!

  “I don’t want to spoil my daughter, yet I can’t help but worry over every step she takes. I can’t protect her all of the time, and it keeps me up at night.”

  “You sound like my mother. Or any loving parent,” Sarah said, responding to his very real pain by covering his hand with hers. “Were you not around, before the,” she cleared her throat, “accident?”

  “I traveled for my work, of course, and for pleasure. We had nannies for Bella, and when I was home, I spent time with her. Before I knew about Bianca’s addictions. I thought I was leaving Bella in a loving mother’s care. Instead, I placed my daughter in danger every time I left.” He flipped his hand around so that their fingers entwined. “Bella could have been killed or kidnapped,” his voice thickened as he went through what sounded to Sarah like a long list of self-guilt.

  How terrible that he felt so bad. “She wasn’t. Bella is sweet and kind. You are here now. You can’t control everything. Actually,” Sarah laughed softly, “there really isn’t that much you can control. The basics. Food, lodging. You’re giving her the best of everything. Yourself. But a freak tornado could wipe out the condo tomorrow. You can only live in the moment.”

  Franco released his grip, sliding his fingers to the edge of his plate. “I know that. Logically. But in my heart?” He glanced into the living room and the warm blue glare of the television playing cartoons. He smiled at Bella’s laughter. “I love her.”

  “She is a lucky girl.”

  “I think it is the other way around.” Franco seemed to realize where the conversation had gone. “Sorry, it isn’t often that I am around other grown-ups these days.”

  “It’s all right.” Sarah could be his friend. There was nothing taboo about making new friends, and in a friendship, money didn’t matter. Franco needed a friend. She would not desire him, if he were her friend. Her mind called bullshit, but she’d deal with that later.

  “Time to lighten the mood!” Franco got up and Sarah helped him clear the table. He piled the dishes in the sink, refusing to let her do them, or even rinse them off. “I have brandy and cigars,” he said. “Dessert for the adults. On the balcony.”

  “Brandy?” She shook her head. “I’ve never had that before. And I don’t smoke. At least not since the occasional cigarette in college.”

  “Cigars aren’t really smoking. I’ll show you.” He reached across the cabinet, his chest brushing her arm, taking down two balloon-shaped glasses.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I swear you will like it.” His eyes held hers captive as he practically pinned her to the counter. The attraction she kept denying flared to life.

  “I should probably go,” she said, her voice sounding breathless.

  “You just got here.” He brushed a strand of hair back from her cheek. Her skin buzzed as if she was already tipsy.

  “I’m on call.” Twenty-four hours a day. Did he feel what she did?

  “One small tiny taste.” Glasses in hand, he remained in her space, so close she felt the heat off his body. She could count his eyelashes as he looked down at her, his gaze daring her to step outside her comfort zone.

  “Teeny tiny,” she finally agreed.

  He nudged her forward with his hip. “Beyond the table. Bella, we will be on the balcony.”

  “All right, Daddy!”

  “She’s getting away with extra because you are here,” Franco said. “She likes you very much.”

  “She’s awesome.” Sarah stepped out into the warm evening air coming off the ocean, and sank into a cushy outdoor sofa with a crazy panoramic view. “I never get tired of this.” The sound of the waves was hypnotic.

  “The ocean?” Franco sat down next to her, making her catch her breath.

  “Yeah.” She couldn’t think of anything witty to say and knew if she tried she’d trip over her tongue.

  “Are you from here? Ft. Lauderdale?” Franco asked, pouring from a clear bottle with a dark label.

  “I am,” S
arah said, accepting a small glass of amber liquid. She sniffed. “It smells fruity, sort of.”

  “Take a sip and let it sit on your tongue for a few seconds. See what else you can pick out.” He raised his glass to hers and clinked. “I was raised in the mountains, but we spent summers on the water. Then I moved to Bahia, Salvador. That is where we had Bella. Well?”

  Sarah didn’t care for the sharp tang of alcohol, which seemed overwhelming at first. But she’d agreed to try, so she let the flavors sit.

  “Oak? Berries. It’s smoky.”

  “Good job,” Franco said with approval. “Brandy is distilled wine—this particular brandy has been distilled in an oak keg for flavor. Here, try this now.” He passed over a slim cigar, clipping and lighting the opposite end.

  Sarah giggled nervously. “I, uh. Hmm.”

  “Do not inhale,” he instructed, his brown eyes soft as velvet. Strong brows, thick lashes. She could get drunk on him and to hell with the brandy.

  She accepted the cigar and watched him puff on the end of his. She copied his motions and puffed too.

  “Let the smoke linger in your mouth, exhale. You’re a natural.”

  “My mother would fall over dead if she saw me smoking a cigar.” She blew a perfect circle and smiled. “College.”

  He grinned. “Tied to your mother’s apron strings? At thirty?” He dipped his thumb into the brandy and wiped the pad over her lower lip.

  Oh yes. Definitely out of her comfort zone. She touched her lip, then laughed and puffed again. “The strings were cut a long time ago, but she worries. I’m her only child.”

  “Your father?”

  “They’re divorced.” Sarah didn’t want to ruin the moment by bringing up anything negative. “I understand how you feel about Bella.”

  Franco’s eyes dimmed but then he turned toward the ocean view, hiding his pain from her. It made her feel as if she lost something.

  She crossed her legs and sat back against the cushion. If they were to be friends, then she supposed quiet moments were allowed. It beat the hell out of worrying over whether or not he liked her the way she liked him. And I do.

  He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as he smoked, sipped and studied the horizon. “These are Catelli,” he said, lifting the cigar. “Smooth.”

  “As my first, and probably only, cigar, it’s been great.” Sarah liked holding it in her fingers, alternating puffs and drinks. Tiny drinks. “This is a whole new level for me. I’m usually a beer on the pier kind of girl.”

  Franco turned toward her with enthusiasm. “You paddle board? It’s the perfect ocean to do it. I’m teaching Bella.” He puffed, looking suave. “Maybe you could help?”

  “Of course!” As a friend, she told herself.

  “Do you fish? Tell me about Sarah, away from the shelter. You seem more relaxed tonight.”

  “Dinner was amazing.” And the company. She swirled the inch of brandy left in her glass. “I am just Sarah. No matter where I am. If there’s a sea turtle that needs rescuing, I’m in. Manatees, sea rays, you name it. On land, I’m all about protecting unwanted pets from being tossed away like trash. It breaks my heart, seeing how easily an animal can be discarded.”

  “You are passionate,” Franco said, his eyes darkening. Calling to her.

  Was she?

  “I suppose I am. Yes.” She laughed to sever the desire between them. “But I won’t bore you with my soap box. I can talk spay and neutering all night.”

  Franco blinked, releasing her from temptation as she’d hoped. His intensity challenged her. Made her think of sensual things instead of what was practical.

  “What else?” he asked, nudging her bare knee with his brandy glass. “More?” He added some of the amber liquid to his, but Sarah declined.

  “I really am on call. If I go away somewhere, Martin covers for me, but that’s only happened twice in the last year.”

  “You are very dedicated.”

  “Which doesn’t leave much room for a social life, I know. Yes, I fish. I have a few friends that hang out at the pier, too. If you’d like, I can ask if Danny would show you his kite sail?”

  “No, no. But if the weather is nice, I want to take Bella snorkeling this weekend. Would you like to join us?”

  Sarah kept her smile neutral, resisting the urge to press her mouth against Franco’s and taste the brandy from his lips. “I’m working,” she said with a shrug.

  “Always working.” Franco’s gaze dropped to her chest, then down her dress to her feet. “Not always. You have a nice tan.”

  “Paddle boarding,” she said, self-consciously. “Maybe I can get away for an hour or so. Where are you thinking to go?”

  “Just out there,” he said, pointing to the endless blue water. “There’s plenty of room.”

  Sarah laughed. “There’s a shipwreck snorkel trail, actually. Is Bella a strong swimmer?”

  “Sure, but I have a small rubber boat for when we go out, too.”

  “Perfect.” She set her empty glass on the wicker table. “If you go to the town website, they have the trail marked out. It’s fun.”

  “I’d rather have you join us. A guide.”

  Sarah shifted on the couch, sitting up straight and folding her hands over her knee. Easy. Friendly. “Like I said, I’ll try to get some free time.”

  *****

  Franco finished his cigar and brandy, lingering on the couch as the sun went down. Just past dusk, he stood and held out his hand for Sarah’s. She placed her fingers over his and he tugged her upward. It would have been a simple move to bring her into his arms, to kiss her pink lips, press her soft breasts against his chest.

  But no.

  He did not have the right to act on his desires. Not with Sarah, of all people. She seemed a shining beacon of what was right in the world. There were days he wondered if he dragged darkness in his wake.

  No more. He and Bella were on the mend, choosing to live in the light. But that didn’t mean he was ready for a relationship. He was still figuring out how to be a dad.

  “Can I interest you in an oatmeal cookie before you go?” Send her home with a glass of milk and get his priorities straight.

  She pulled back, the flare of interest in her green eyes banked. “I would love one. Sure I can’t help with dishes?”

  “No! You are our guest.” He put his hand on the small of her back as he gently pushed her toward the door leading into the dining room. She tensed. Was she affected as he was? God.

  “Friends…” she said rather insistently.

  “I won’t hear of it.” He had to get her out of the condo. Back into her khakis, though he would look at her differently in them now. “Bella! Come, show off your cookies for Sarah.” He passed her, careful to keep himself to himself, and took the container down from the shelf.

  “Can we have milk?” Bella shouted, racing into the kitchen.

  He quickly cleared away the olives and cheese, taking down three short glasses and three saucers. He warmed the cookies in the microwave. What would it be like to have Sarah around more often?

  “Those smell terrific,” Sarah said, determined, it seemed, to keep pretending they didn’t feel anything despite the pulsating awareness between them.

  No pretending for him. Dishing out warmed cookies, he poured the milk and leaned back against the oven as the ladies sat at the bar. How could he be attracted to the woman who had made his life hell for the last two months?

  “These are way better than my pumpkin dog treats,” Sarah said after she finished her cookie.

  “I don’t know. If you package them properly, I could sell them in the store.” So maybe he was creating a reason to keep her in his life. He wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do or not, but he followed his instincts.

  “You would do that?” She tilted her head as she looked at him.

  His body tightened beneath her direct gaze. “Why not?”

  “I just, well.” She twisted her hair back over her shoulder. “Marti
n and I were just talking about offering them for sale on the website, once I get them where I like. I never meant to get into the treat business.”

  “It’s another income stream. Makes sense, yes?”

  “That’s really nice of you.”

  Franco pushed off the stove and collected the saucers to put in the sink. “I can be nice.”

  Sarah gave a soft laugh. “I started our friendship off on the wrong foot. With the citation. I’m sorry about that.”

  “Yes,” Franco agreed. Is that what she thought they could be? Friends? Who was she kidding? Just herself. He wanted her in a way that went beyond sharing cooking recipes. Wanted, but couldn’t have. He wasn’t ready yet to let another woman into his heart.

  “Forgive me?” she asked.

  “I understand why you were so vigilant. Water under the bridge.”

  “I want some water,” Bella said, her mouth rimmed in chocolate.

  Franco took her empty milk cup, rinsed it, and filled it before handing it back. “There you go, princess.”

  “Thank you, Daddy.”

  “Thank you both,” Sarah said, rising to leave.

  “Think about what I said.” He paused, meeting her eye to eye. “About the dog treats. I’ll be in touch for Saturday.”

  “I’ll see,” Sarah said. “No promises. It’s a hazard of the job.”

  “What is Saturday?” Bella asked, looking from Franco to Sarah.

  “If the weather is nice, I thought we would go snorkeling.”

  “Yeah! And Sarah can come?”

  Franco saved Sarah from trying to come up with another excuse.

  “Isabella, relax and wait to see. Why don’t you tell Sarah good-bye, and go brush your teeth? It is bed time already.”

  His daughter slid down from the stool with great reluctance, but gave Sarah a hug. “Goodnight, Sarah. I liked your treats.”

  “Sweet dreams, Bella.” Sarah pressed a kiss to the top of his daughter’s head. He tensed at the sweet gesture. Had Bianca ever done that? Bella had been Bianca’s possession. Her pawn.

  Sarah walked toward the front door and collected her purse on the way. “You are an amazing cook,” she said.