by Traci Hall
He walked toward her, empathy in his eyes. “You are an amazing person. You have a huge heart.” He put his hand on her arm. “I’m your friend. I admire everything that you are doing here. But I feel like you might be afraid to take a chance on love.”
Stomach tight, Sarah tensed as if she were under attack. “You think I’m afraid?” Denial. Denial. “I didn’t ask for your opinion. Why don’t you take the truck and deliver those jars? I’ll walk Buster this morning.” How could he even suggest that she was hiding behind her business?
“I’m sorry, Sarah,” Martin said, coming toward her with his arms outstretched for a hug.
Sarah, on the verge of losing her composure, and possibly the toast she’d had for breakfast, shook her head. “Go on.”
He left without his hug and she ran her wrists under cool tap water in the kitchen to calm down. Benny and Pippa stared at her, as if sensing she was upset.
She sank down to the floor and the dogs scrambled into her lap as she cried. Damn it. She was not afraid of anything. How had Franco gotten into her heart so fast?
Chapter Nineteen
Fundraiser Day. She’d set the alarm early Saturday morning so that she got to Pet Rescue way before dawn. There was so much to do that she hadn’t really slept well, anyway.
She opened the office door, her stomach tense. So much was riding on this. Martin had drawn a rocket on a piece of poster board with the number 1500 at the top, and colored in lines at the bottom as a visual toward their goal. They’d gone on the last few days as if he hadn’t given his advice, as if she hadn’t heard his words of concern. She was not afraid of love.
She bought him a barbecue apron in turquoise blue and a set of tongs to match. They had music planned from Martin’s friend at the club who offered to DJ the event. Not in drag. She’d gotten ten extra hoses, clowns, balloons and three different face-painters.
Randall Wallace could just forget about PetGiant.
Her mom came in at seven, a box of donuts in hand. “I’ve got a good feeling about this,” she said. “Nothing but clear skies predicted for today.”
Buster barked in greeting, going over to nose the box. “No, no,” her mom scolded and the big dog tucked his tail between his legs.
“Way to break his heart, Mom,” Sarah said with a laugh. “He’s such a baby.”
“I would take him home, if I could. But Bert and Ernie are too old to share their spots on the couch.”
“He’s a good dog. We’ll find Buster a place of his own.” Sarah knew that in her bones. It was what she did best.
“You’ve sold 400 boxes of treats already?” Her mom set the donuts on the counter and came back to study the poster board. “That’s terrific.”
“Only 1100 to go.” She rubbed the ache at her temples. “Do you still have my old Girl Scout uniform?”
“That’s your plan? Door to door? Oh honey, you were never good at that.” Her mom peeked back into the warehouse. “I love the lights! It’s like a party.”
“We’ve got the iguana, the bunny, Buster, and two batches of kittens. Oh, and Tom. But today isn’t so much about finding them homes as it is showing the community what we do.”
Her mom nodded and turned her eagle eye onto Sarah. “You look perfect.”
White polo and khaki shorts. Sarah touched her pony tail. “Pretty basic. Just like me.”
“There is nothing basic about you.” Her mom wore jean shorts with fancy stitching along the back pockets and white polo that said Pet Rescue on the shoulder logo. “I was wondering if I should invite Leland,” her mother said casually. “He might help at the cash register?”
“Who is Leland?”
“My...boyfriend.” Her mom started laughing, her face flushed. “That sounds so funny.”
“You went from dinner to boyfriend/girlfriend status already?” Sarah grinned.
“It’s been a month since he first asked me out.”
Sarah gave her mom a hug, refusing to think about Franco. “I’m so happy for you, really. And of course he can run the register. I’d appreciate all the help we can get.”
Her phone dinged, signaling a text. She assumed it would be from Martin, but it was from Franco. She groaned and her mom asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Uh.” Sarah swallowed. “It’s nothing.”
“Nothing wouldn’t make your cheeks pink. I’m sorry about Franco. Maybe he will show up today.”
She hadn’t shared much about what had happened, keeping the pain of it close to her heart. “He wants to come. I don’t want him to.”
“Why are you pushing him away?”
“Mom. He thinks he can solve everything with money.”
“Yeah? So?”
“So.” Flustered, Sarah shook her phone. “I can’t be bought.”
“Of course not. But accepting help is not a bad thing.”
“Help? Help is not offering to pay for the roof.” After sex. While they were still naked, in her bed. “That’s taking over and trivializing how hard I’ve worked to make this business a success. Maybe not to his standards, but I’ve saved a lot of animals.”
“He’s not your ex.” Her mom opened the box of donuts. “Franco wants to help because he cares about you. It’s his way of showing it. It’s a very Latino male thing.”
“I don’t like it.”
“You’d rather lose the business?” She lifted a bear claw with white icing and took a bite.
“No! I’d rather find another way. Franco has to respect that I can do this on my own. I’m not like the rich and famous. I work to earn my way.”
“That sounds an awful lot like pride talking.”
Sarah stared at the phone in her palm, deciding not to answer Franco’s text. She didn’t want to be a fool, but she couldn’t think about anything other than her roof at the moment. People and animals relied on her good sense. “You might be right, Mom. But unlike Franco, pride is all I have.”
*****
By ten in the morning, Sarah had a line of vehicles out to the street. The local high school had sent their cheer team to wash cars and generate enthusiasm with pom-poms and buckets of sudsy water.
Sarah had a video streaming non-stop in the office of Mrs. Drummel and other customers with their adopted pets. The police chief came by, as did the fire chief, all offering support. Nobody really liked Randall Wallace, and even though the PetGiant bid for her property was supposed to be a secret, it wasn’t.
Courtney showed up with the Ft. Lauderdale news crew, giving Pet Rescue five minutes of precious air time. The jars of Happy Treats got a special mention, with her website and ordering information along the bottom of the screen.
Every time she heard a little girl’s voice, she turned, hoping to see Bella. And yes, Franco. She missed him. Them. Her mother was right. She didn’t like the way holding on to injured pride made her feel. Once this was over, no matter what the results of the day turned out to be, she would call Franco and apologize. No expectations after that.
By eleven, Sarah decided it was time to fire up the barbecue. Martin donned the turquoise blue apron and posed for a picture with her mother, who then introduced her to Leland.
Tall, with a head of shiny silver hair and a broad smile, Leland held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Sarah. Your mother raves about you, you know.”
Sarah blushed. “Mom.”
“What? I’m proud of you, for good reason. You’ve accomplished all of this,” her mom waved to the full parking lot and the fair-like atmosphere of the fundraiser, “to follow your mission in life.” Her mom stuck one hand on her denim-clad hip. “You’ll just have to deal with it.”
Sarah heard Franco’s deep, rumbling laughter and her entire body lit up. “A parent’s pride. Do you hear that Bella? You’ll just have to deal with it, too.”
Turning around, slowly, so she didn’t give herself away, she faced Franco and Bella. Their matching smiles demanded one of her own, which she gave freely. “Hi! I am really glad you could make it.”
>
Franco captured her gaze as if to call her out as a liar, but he didn’t say a word. “It’s all Bella has been talking about this morning. We are here to wash cars and help however we can.”
“Thank God,” Martin said, untying his apron and handing it over to Franco. “I so did not want to cook. I go out to eat.” He shrugged and didn’t look at Sarah.
“What do we have?” Franco walked over to the coolers and Sarah followed on his heels.
“Frozen meat,” she said, hardly believing he was here. “Nothing special.”
Franco looked at Bella, who had a cute purple backpack that she gave to her dad. “We brought a few spices,” he said. “Just in case.”
Sarah turned toward Martin, who pretended to study the clouds in the sky.
Bella laughed. “Daddy said I get to have my face painted like a cat.”
Martin held out his hand for Bella. “I would be happy to escort you, young lady.”
Franco nodded his approval, leaving Sarah wondering just what her friend had been up to behind her back. It didn’t matter, though. She admitted to herself that she was glad Franco was here.
“I’m glad you came, Franco,” her mom said. “I was hoping to get a taste of your culinary genius.”
Leland chuckled. “Am I missing something?”
Sarah, feeling awful that Franco was being reduced to all-beef hot dogs on a gas grill, said, “He’s a chef, actually. Talented. You won’t be able to tell from this. Franco, I can do it. We can’t have your reputation taking a hit when the product is inferior, compared to what you are used to.”
“Sarah, I want to do this. Okay? Now, stand back and let me see what I’ve got to work with.” He wore a white t-shirt and plaid shorts with black leather slides on his feet. He tied the apron on and then looked at her with a confidant wink.
She rolled her eyes but her heart sang. He was a beautiful man. “Veggie patties, beef patties. Hot dogs. With a side of chips or a scoop of potato salad. I’m your sous chef,” she said with a self-deprecating laugh. “So don’t expect too much.”
“This ought to be good,” her mom said, her eyes flashing with humor. “Leland and I will go get the salads from the kitchen.”
Sarah gave Franco his space at the grill, watching as he seasoned the meat. “You look like you’ve done this before,” she said. It was just the two of them and she wished she could touch him. Let him know that she was sorry.
“I like to grill.” He looked at her, his face softening.
Her insides turned to mush and she stepped closer to him. “Thank you for coming today. I guess Martin talked you into it?”
His expression turned serious. “I wanted to help you in a way that would be acceptable to you. I’d rather cook than wash cars.”
“I owe you an apology.”
“Sarah, you don’t.” He didn’t look at her as he got the cheese from the cooler. “Do you want to start separating the buns? We need to butter them up before we toast them.”
“Sure.” She untied the plastic bag of white hamburger buns and put on thin gloves. “Franco.”
He turned toward her, leaning in so quick she didn’t have time to pull away from the press of his mouth on hers. “Not now. Let’s see how well we work together as a team. You’ll see how much can be accomplished when you don’t have to do everything yourself. A partner can be a very good thing.”
*****
Franco watched the sparkle in Sarah’s eyes as she accepted his challenge. “Deal.”
A lot was riding on his ability to run a gas grill and flip some burgers. But Franco was no stranger to pressure, and cooking was what he did best. “What are we selling these things for?”
Sarah, her hair back in a ponytail, her cheeks flushed with heat from the barbecue and the South Florida sun, attacked her sous chef duties with precision. Plastic gloves, a tray of buns, a butter knife and the tub of whipped butter. He watched, nodding with approval as she got all of the bread. “7 dollars for a burger, 8 for a cheeseburger, 5 for a hot dog.”
“Reasonable.”
“The stuff was donated from Publix.”
“Smart girl. How is it you didn’t have the money for the roof? You seem like you have a good understanding of business.” He kept his tone conversational and hoped that he hadn’t pissed her off again.
She sorted the paper plates and plastic utensils. “I had half of the money, but then the air conditioner went out. I can’t have a warehouse without air conditioning for the animals. I’m supposed to be saving them, not suffocating them.”
Franco put the first row of burgers down on the heated rack. The sizzle reminded him of other fun times. Sure, maybe there were sirloin burgers and champagne instead of frozen patties but he wouldn’t trade a second of that for where he was right now.
“You did what you had to do.”
She gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Franco.”
“So, I heard a rumor that PetGiant wants to buy your warehouse.”
“Where did you hear that? Courtney swore me to secrecy, but you’re the third person to bring it up.”
How totally Sarah to honor a secret, no matter how awful the consequences. “The fire chief. We became friendly after meeting at Bella’s school a few weeks ago. Nice guy.”
Garlic and onion powder wafted through the air on the steam from the grill and he noticed that people were starting to gather.
“I’ve got five hundred boxes of treats sold. I need to sell a thousand more and I’ll have enough money for the roof.”
“I love the stencils. And the customers are giving really great feedback on them, which is a big deal for return business.”
“Thank you, for your help. I mean, it was your idea to add the honey and cut the rye with the wheat flour. Carrying them in your shop.”
He flipped the burgers and gestured for her to set the buttered buns on the toasting rack. They worked together as if they’d done it forever. He was tempted to kiss the back of her neck when she reached across him for the top rack.
Instead, he stole a sniff of her coconut shampoo.
“It was my pleasure.”
“Franco de Silva! There you are.”
Franco looked up with a smile. He watched Sarah look up too.
“I never thought I’d see you in a blue apron. Have times gotten that tough?”
Chapter Twenty
Sarah lifted her chin, ready to do battle. “This is a fundraising event, sir. Mr. de Silva is here as a volunteer.”
The red-haired man laughed, not at all offended. “Mr. de Silva. You’ve got this sweet thing fooled.”
Bristling, Sarah glanced at Franco to see how he knew this joker.
Instead of being upset, Franco came around the grill to give the man a hug. “Charlie Beckett. Meet Sarah Murphy.”
He held out his hand and she noticed his brilliant blue eyes and pale skin that somehow didn’t clash with his cherry-red hair. “Sarah, am I thrilled to meet you. Has Franco told you about me?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head.
“My job is to find the best new thing and market the hell out of it. I make money, the customer makes money. It’s a win-win. Franco, you don’t want those burgers to burn, do you?”
Franco hustled back behind the grill. “Charlie’s a slick-talker, Sarah, so don’t sign on the bottom line until you have a lawyer look it over.”
Charlie stuck his hands over his heart. “Ouch.” He looked at Sarah and grinned. “I hired Franco for special events. Amazing chef. He’s got a gifted palate. And he’s not cheap either. How’d you get him?”
“He is supporting his community. Why are you here?” she asked, nerves tingling her spine.
“The dogs love your Berrylicious Biscuit.I think we can make some money together.” He took her to the side. “People want to know what their pets are eating is good for them. The best. I know I do.”
Sarah turned to Franco, who was engrossed in cooking burgers. She quickly ran back behind the grill to sav
e the toasted buns from being burned. She piled everything on a tray and started to laugh. “Really, Franco? I don’t think you can help but be a hero. Swooping in to save the damsel in distress.”
“You don’t need saving, Sarah. I invited him to try it, that’s all. It was your final product that got him interested.”
Cooking kept her from really accepting the possible good news. She looked up as her mom and Leland came out of the office.
Sarah shook her head. “It shouldn’t have taken that long to get the potato salad.”
“Leland seems like a good guy,” Franco said. “Everybody deserves somebody.”
Charlie peered over the grill. “I deserve a cheeseburger.”
“We’re almost ready,” Sarah said, bustling around the small area. “That will be eight bucks.”
He pulled out his wallet. “What are we fundraising for?”
“A new roof.” Sarah pointed to the warehouse and the “ugly” patch.
Charlie looked at her and grinned from Franco back to her. “Sarah, with your Happy Treats marketed by me, you can have ten roofs.”
Her mom came up just in time to hear the last part of the conversation. “What? Who are you? I’m Jennifer Murphy, Sarah’s mom.”
He shook her hand. “Charlie Beckett.”
Sarah took Charlie’s money, a buoyant feeling in her chest. She felt like laughing, like joining in the car wash, throwing a bucket of bubbles over Franco, and drinking champagne. Maybe even flying to Costa Rica. “Potato salad, or chips?” She got out the paper plates and slid a savory cheeseburger on the toasted bun onto it.
“Chips.” He continued talking to her mother. “Beckett Marketing. My dogs loved the treats.”
“And you can get our Sarah’s treats into stores?” her mom asked, handing Charlie a napkin wrapped around a fork and knife.
“This is surreal,” Sarah said, daring to check out Franco from the corner of her eye.
He reached out and held her arm, caressing her skin with his thumb. “I told you. We make a good team.”