by Shirley Jump
“It’s a wonder I have time to go to work with all that, huh?” Jackie said, laughing. “Believe me, if Paul and I didn’t need the money, I’d be calling in sick every day. Gosh, how on earth am I ever going to find time to do everything for the wedding? It’s like the clock is running out. Jerry said we could set up early at the hotel, because they have nothing else scheduled there this weekend, but I don’t even have time to…”
Her voice trailed off and then that hopeful smile took over her face. The one Susannah knew as well as she knew every square inch of this house. Jackie leaned against the counter and met Susannah’s gaze. “Hey, what are you doing tonight, sis?”
Susannah pulled the drain on the sink. “No way, Jackie. I’ve got—”
“Please, Suzie-Q. Please?” Jackie put her hands together, and gave Susannah a pleading-puppy-dog look. “Just this one more favor, and then, I swear, I’ll never ask for another. I swear.”
And Susannah said yes. Just like always.
CHAPTER TWO
KANE could run a multi-billion-dollar, fourth-generation, international gem import company. Negotiate million-dollar deals. Understand the most complicated of financial reports. Surely he could do something as simple as light a fire. The flame on the match met the log, sputtered briefly, then poof, disappeared.
Apparently not.
He’d rented the cabin on the outskirts of town, ordered a quarter-cord of wood, picked up some matches at the store downtown, and thought the whole process would be as simple as striking a match to a box, then holding it against a stick.
Uh…not exactly.
Kane let out a curse as his sixth attempt fizzled and died, then stalked outside. He drew in several deep breaths of fresh, country air. An hour ago, he’d been loving the whole experience. Now he was ready to call his chauffeur, have him hurry the hell out here with the limo and drive him straight to the private Lennox Gem Corporation jet.
No. He’d do this. He needed to do this.
He stepped back and appraised the situation with logic, thinking back over movies he’d seen and the books about camping he’d skimmed on the plane when he’d taken this impromptu escape from reality. Too many large, thick logs. Not enough skinny sticks. What he needed was more kindling. Not more thinking.
Kane headed outside, blew some warm air on his cold hands, then started picking up sticks from the ground. As he did, his hands brushed against the bare dirt, pushing soil under his nails when he dug into the earth to loosen a stubborn piece. He pulled his hand back and marveled at the sight of the dirt.
Such a simple thing, and yet, he’d never done this. Never had soil beneath his nails. Never cleaned mud from his un-calloused palms. Kane kneeled down and pressed both hands into the soft dark brown earth, squeezing the thick clumps. A burst of rich, earthy scent filled his nostrils. Then the dirt broke apart, slipping through his fingers and hitting the ground again with a soft patter, like fat raindrops.
Kane chuckled. Imagine that. One of the richest men in the world, amused at something so basic as communing with Mother Nature.
Something shivered the bushes beside him. Kane jerked to attention, grabbing his kindling as he did. He thrust his right hand forward, then realized his sapling ammunition made him about as dangerous as a sunflower. “Who’s there?”
Or rather, what was there?
When he’d made the decision two days ago to come here for more than just Paul’s wedding, he’d done a quick research overview of the location, right down to the last lack of amenities, but hadn’t thought to look up “wild indigenous animals.” For God’s sake, the thing rustling around five feet from him could be a bear.
The rustling grew louder, the leaves shaking like cancan dancers. Kane took a step back. Should he head for the cabin? Stand his ground? He could just see the headline now: Idiot CEO Billionaire Dies: Money No Match For Bear In Woods.
The press would have a field day with that one. He’d be the butt of jokes for generations to come.
Then, out of the woods, a bundle of fur came bounding right for him, and Kane started to turn and run back inside, until he realized the bundle was—
A dog.
The mutt, a small barrel of brown-and-white fur and floppy ears, barked at him, then leapt at his legs, tongue lolling, tail wagging. Oh, God, it was on him now. Shedding. Kane had no experience with pets. Not unless he counted the one week his mother thought it would be cute to have a pocket pooch, then changed her mind once she realized live dogs actually peed and pooped—and gave the dog to the maid.
This thing was as friendly as a second-place politician desperate for every last vote. Kane took a step back, hands up, his sticks like finger extensions. “Whoa, there, buddy. Get down. Please.”
Undaunted, the dog kept coming, launching himself at Kane in another greeting. Kane reached out a tentative hand, and gave the dog an awkward pat on the head. “There you go. Now go on home.”
The dog barked, plopped his butt on the ground and swished a semicircle into the ground with his tail.
“Go home.”
The dog’s tail widened the dirt semicircle, creating a tiny cloud of dust. He barked disagreement. Stubborn.
“Well, if you won’t, I will.” Kane pivoted, and headed into the cabin. Before he could shut the door—hands impeded by the load of kindling—the dog was there.
Inside.
With him.
“Oh, no, you don’t. Shoo.” Kane waved out the door. The dog stayed put, staring at him. Expectant. “Go home.”
The dog barked some more. This time it sounded like a feed-me bark. Not that Kane would know, of course, but the way the dog was looking at him, he seemed kind of hungry.
“I don’t have any dog food. In fact—”
He didn’t have any people food, either. For a man who lived his life by a schedule and a plan, he’d done a pretty lousy job of planning this one.
It was that woman. She’d gotten him all turned around this morning. Set him off-kilter. If he hadn’t met her, he wouldn’t have forgotten to buy food. Or thoroughly check out his surroundings. Or gather kindling. And then he wouldn’t have this…this creature staring at him.
A creature he needed to get rid of. Kane opened the door, but the dog stayed put. Clearly, reasoning with the animal wasn’t going to work. The dog wore no collar, so Kane couldn’t call his owner. And he certainly couldn’t keep the thing here. So he did the only other thing he knew to do—delegate.
He fished his cell phone out of his pocket and punched in the number for the woman who had rented him the cabin. “Mrs. Maxwell, do you own a dog?”
Angela Maxwell, an older woman with gray hair and a friendly smile, and most of all, a tendency not to ask any questions once she had a valid credit-card number in hand, laughed on the other end of the phone. “No, dear, I don’t. But there are lots of stray dogs around the cabins. Sometimes they get separated from their owners who are on vacation. And we don’t have much of a leash law ’round here. People kind of just let their dogs go, it being a small town and all. Most everybody knows most everybody else’s dogs.”
“Do you know this one? It’s brown and white. Short. Stubborn.” Kane glared at the dog. It swished its tail and, he swore, grinned at him.
“Well, no, can’t say that I do, but I know who would know. You take that pooch on down to The Sudsy Dog. The owner there, she runs a sort of pet rescue thing. She’ll help you out.”
“The Sudsy Dog?”
“It’s a hot dog wash.” Mrs. Maxwell laughed at the pun. “Just off of Main Street. You can’t miss it. On the sign you’ll see—”
“Let me guess. A hot dog in a tub?”
“You got it. Except, he’s really a dachshund. It’s the cutest dang sign ever. My Orin painted it himself.” Then she hung up.
Kane groaned. He looked down at the dog, who looked back up at him, still wagging. “Looks like we’re going for a ride.”
That got the dog off his feet. He popped to all fours, tail beating a dru
m of anticipation against Kane’s leg. Kane headed out to his rental car, trying not to cringe at the thought of dog hair all over the leather interior, then opened the door. Before he could say “Lay down on the floor,” the dog was sitting right beside the driver’s seat.
Looked like he was going to have a new best friend for the next few minutes.
Whether he liked it or not.
Susannah latched the wire crate holding Mrs. Prudhomme’s standard poodle, then took off her apron and brushed the bangs off her forehead. “You’re looking gorgeous after your beauty treatment, Fancy Pants. Which is more than I can say for me.”
The white dog let out a woof, then settled down in the cage to wait for her owner to pick her up. Fancy Pants was in here once every two weeks, and though she barely tolerated the manicures, she enjoyed the grooming process.
Susannah glanced at the Arc de Triomphe poster on her wall. Nine hundred dogs. Three hundred cats. And now she was there—she finally had enough money saved to take that trip. To finally experience a life outside this little town. To put all those years of French classes into practice. To dust off her never-used passport. And see the world.
She traced her finger down the two-dimensional image of the intricate carving of the Departure of Volunteers on the Arc, imagining herself in a world so much more glamorous than this one. Heck, working almost anywhere would be more glamorous than doing what she did for a living.
The bell over the door jingled and Susannah let out a sigh. Back to work. And back to reality.
“Take this…this thing off my hands. Please.”
Susannah turned around and found first, an adorable brown-and-white dog at her feet. Then, a fuming best man behind him. The same man from the morning, only this time he was wearing shoes—and a frown. “You again.”
“I could say the same thing. You work here?”
She nodded, not bothering to correct him and tell him she owned the business. Susannah bent down to scratch the dog behind the ears. He let out a happy groan and pressed himself against her legs, his tail wagging. “Is this your dog?”
“God, no. He’s some stray who can’t seem to get the hint.”
She arched a brow. “Seems to be a lot of those in town lately.”
Kane leaned an elbow on the cabinet and gave her a smirk. When he did, the facial gestured transformed him, taking Kane from ordinary to…
Well, extraordinarily handsome, almost playboy handsome, like something out of a magazine. A quiver ran through Susannah’s gut, but she ignored it.
“You aren’t talking about me, are you?” he said.
“Not at all.” Susannah’s voice raised into high and innocent ranges. She straightened, the dog remaining by her side. “So whose dog is this? He looks like a Brittany spaniel, or a Brit mix.”
“You tell me. He just showed up at my cabin.” Kane thumbed toward the door, in an easterly direction. “I’m staying in one of the Lake Everett cabins.”
He was renting one of the rustic cabins? Sure, he was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, but the shirt was as clean as one straight out of the package. And his shoes—
Now that he was wearing them, she noticed he had on expensive dress shoes. Not the kind anyone would wear in the woods, especially not that kind of leather, which looked as soft as kid gloves. A high gloss bounced light off the finish, which sported fine, delicate stitching.
He was too…perfect to be the typical renter who came into town in the summer, stayed a week or two for the fishing, then went back to his normal life. Kane Lennox could have passed for a cover model, one of those men clad in a three-piece suit, hawking expensive cologne or designer watches. Except…
Except for his eyes. His eyes held a summer storm, the dark blues of passing thunderclouds, the depths of unplumbed mysteries. Behind his cobalt gaze, Susannah wondered, was the real Kane Lennox the man in a suit, or the barefoot man she’d met this morning?
“Well, I don’t recognize this little guy,” she said, bending down to stroke the dog’s silky ears, distancing herself from thoughts of his temporary owner, “but I’ll put up a notice in my shop.”
“Good. I appreciate you doing so.” Kane turned on his heel.
“Wait. You’re not leaving him here, are you?”
He stopped in the doorway. “Of course. I couldn’t possibly be responsible for the caretaking of a dog.”
“Why not? Are you allergic?”
“I don’t believe so.”
That right there. The way he talked. That, too, didn’t fit with the image of a cabin renter. Some weekend fisherman, or an avid hunter on a few days’ break from the daily grind. Every one of Paul’s friends was the typical guy-next-door, the kind that sat at the bar and knocked back a couple of beers, told a bawdy joke or two. This guy…not at all that type. How on earth did he ever become Paul’s friend, and not just friend, but best friend?
“Do you have two hands?” Susannah asked.
“Yes.” He gave her a dubious look.
“Two legs?”
The dubious look narrowed. “Yes.”
“Then that, along with this,” Susannah grabbed a five-pound bag of dry dog food from the shelf and thrust it into his arms, “is all you need for now. Even though we take great care of our shelter animals here, we first try to find foster families for them.”
“Foster families. For dogs.”
“Yep. And since this little guy is already attached to you, it should be no sweat for you to take him home. He’ll do much better emotionally with you, at your house, than he would stuck in a kennel all day anyway. And really, all you have to do is feed him, walk him and wait until his owner claims him.”
He stared at her. “Are you completely insane? I am not a dog person.”
Again, he had that air about him. Not just out of town, but completely out of her world. Out of her social stratosphere. Clearly, the man came from some money. He had to, given the way he dressed and talked. Why would someone like that want to stay in Chapel Ridge, Indiana, any longer than he had to?
While they’d been debating, the dog had left Susannah’s side and was now plopped down beside Kane, his little snout turned up expectantly. “Apparently he disagrees.”
“He’s a dog, he doesn’t know any better.” Kane waved in her direction. “You are the hot dog wash person. You take him.”
“No can do. I’m too busy with the wedding plans.”
“Last I checked, you weren’t the bride.”
No, she wasn’t. And Susannah had no intentions of becoming a bride anytime soon, that was for sure. A relationship, especially a serious one, would only derail the dream she’d worked so hard to fulfill.
“Let’s just say that being a bridesmaid doesn’t lessen my level of responsibility,” Susannah said with a little laugh.
Kane eyed her with a visual question mark, but didn’t press the issue. “He’s just a dog. Surely—”
“You can handle it as easily as I.” Susannah ran a hand through her hair. She didn’t need one more thing on her to-do list. Couldn’t the man see that? He may be handsome, but he had an obstinate streak as long as the Mississippi River.
She grabbed a leash and collar from the shelf and handed those to him, too, adding them to the top of the dog food. “You might want to put the leash to use right now.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Rover there has some needs to attend to.” She pointed at the dog, who was sniffing at the room like a drug addict.
“He can wait.”
“Only if you don’t mind him messing up your car later.”
It took Kane a second, then he made the connection. His face wrinkled in disgust. “Absolutely not.” He waved at her. “Well, tell him to go do what he needs to do then.”
Susannah laughed. “I can’t tell a dog to do anything, at least when it comes to that particular bodily function. But you could try walking him.”
“Why? He has four paws of his own.”
Susannah rolled her eyes, then
took the leash and collar out of Kane’s hand, fitted them onto the dog, then handed the other end back to Kane. “Walking the dog is when you move your two legs. The dog will get the idea, believe me.”
He stared at her, seeming horrified by the entire idea. “What about you?”
“I have other things to do, like my job.” She started to walk away.
“Wait!”
Susannah pivoted back. And nearly laughed out loud. Tall, muscular Kane looked lost. “It’s a pretty simple concept, Mr. Lennox. Put one foot in front of the other. Rover will follow. And if you go near some grass, his natural instincts will take over.” Before he could protest or ask her to do it, she pointed toward the back door of the shop. “There’s some grass right in the back parking lot. It’ll take five minutes, I swear.”
Kane scowled, but did as she said, walking stiffly out the door, with Rover following behind, pausing every half second to sniff. Susannah watched through the window, biting her lip, trying not to laugh. Too loudly.
A few minutes later, Rover was feeling much better and Kane had returned to the shop. “Now will you take him?”
“Why? You’re doing great. And besides, you’re on vacation, right? Staying at a cabin in the woods? Think of him as…a roommate.”
Kane scowled. “I don’t want, nor do I need, a roommate.”
The dog had plastered himself to Kane’s leg. Susannah gave him a grin. An SUV pulled into the parking lot, a familiar golden furball in the passenger’s seat. Her next appointment. “Seems like you have one, like it or not. Now, unless you want to help me bathe a golden retriever, and deck her out with some bows in her hair, you might want to head on home with your new best friend.”
An incredulous look filled Kane’s eyes. “Bows? On a dog?”
“She’s a girl. She likes to look pretty. Even if doing so leaves me looking like a sopping wet disaster afterwards,” Susannah added, brushing a clump of dog hair off her T-shirt. God, she was a mess. She looked about as good as her canine charges—before their baths.