Drop Dead on Recall
Page 29
The man was gaining hundreds of brownie points in my book. To my surprise, few people had shown much concern for the fate of all the dogs affected by the murders and scandals. “They’re at my house for now. Ginny is going to find Pip a home. And it turns out that little Percy is a certified therapy dog and visited a nursing home every week. You won’t believe which one.”
“Not where your mom is?”
“You got it. Jade Templeton wants him. She’s wanted a dog for a long time, but didn’t think it fair to leave one alone for the long hours she works. She loves Percy, so she’ll adopt him and he’ll be her dog, and he’ll go to work with her. She has to clear it with the board of directors, but doesn’t think that will be a problem. Their resident cat has worked out really well.”
“Speaking of cats, is Leo happy to be home?”
I thought of my little orange man. “He curled up against my head and purred all night.”
“Lucky guy!” Tom grinned and stood. “It’s getting dark, lady and gents. We should head back.” The dogs jumped up, and I eased myself into a stand, trying to ignore my aches and bruises and wondering how people on TV bounce back so fast from getting punched and shot and run over by trains. I was a wreck from a little couch wrestling.
My thoughts were cut short when Tom pulled me close, searched my eyes, and traced my lips with a touch as light as a whisper. He laced his fingers into my hair and cradled the back of my head, and then kissed me, slowly and thoroughly. Warring currents of lust and panic surged through me, and I didn’t know whether to lie down right there or run like hell.
I barely felt the solid ground beneath my feet on the way back to the parking lot. My thoughts bounced around in my head like numbered balls in a lottery machine—I don’t want to get involved with anyone. Why didn’t I shave my legs this morning? I can’t get close and then go through the pain of losing him. This may be the man I’ve looked for all my life. I like my life the way I’ve created it. Change is good.
Janet Angel and Janet Demon piped up in harmony, reminding me that life is like an obedience trial, and if I don’t send the entry, I’ll never get the title. Of course, I argued back, I won’t lose, either. I thought of my disastrous relationship with Chet and the few uninspiring flubs since then, and of a photo I took years ago of two paths diverging in a wood of shadows and light.
Once again, Tom grinned and brought me back to the moment. “By the way, you owe me some portraits of my dog, and I intend to collect. So don’t make a habit of putting yourself in harm’s way.”
Good thing I didn’t make any promises.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Sheila Webster Boneham has been writing professionally for three decades, and writes in several genres. She has taught writing at universities in the U.S. and abroad, and occasionally teaches writing workshops. In the past fifteen years Sheila has published seventeen nonfiction books, six of which have won major awards. A long-time participant in canine sports, therapy, and other activities, Sheila is also an avid amateur photographer and painter. When she isn’t pursuing creative activities or playing with animals, Sheila can be found walking the beach or salt marsh near her home in North Carolina. You can reach her through her website at www.sheilaboneham.com.
Author photo by Portrait Innovations.