Train My Heart

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Train My Heart Page 3

by Marian H. Griffin


  She sneered at him. “At what price? Your success will ruin the quality of life on Mimosa Key, in Florida, and change weather patterns for decades.”

  He didn’t know where his anger came from but it was suddenly front and center. “I want to run a successful business that will attract tourists to the island and support the economy.” He huffed out an annoyed breath. “You want to live in some backwards, off-the-grid place, go right ahead. Mimosa Key is a progressive, growing community that welcomes new businesses. They certainly can’t rely on run-down kennels to generate enough taxes and tourists to support this town.”

  And, again, he said the absolute wrong thing. “Dixie, I—”

  “Your hour is up. And keep the collar and leash. I’ll add it to your bill.” She turned on one heel and walked off.

  Brand watched her walk away. The anger was gone as if it never existed. The hurt in Dixie’s eyes would remain.

  * * *

  Dixie clamped her teeth together. There would be no tears in front of the gas-engine freak. She maintained her speed until she reached the door to the small apartment that came with the job. Her job.

  Brand Taylor was an ass. She stomped across the living room.

  “Rundown kennel? Huh!” She stomped back across the room. “Let’s see him train his own dog.” She started across the floor but stopped halfway and dropped onto the couch.

  How could fate hand her the most handsome man she’d ever seen and gift him with a desire to destroy the environment? The environment right next door to her first, very important real job? A job she loved and wouldn’t quit if they built a coal-burning plant next door.

  But he wasn’t just good looking. He loved his family. Proof was in the dog food and training he was going through for his cousin. He was focused—no, don’t go there again—and organized. He knew what he wanted and went after it. And didn’t complain about the noise from seven dogs barking at inappropriate times. And he was falling in love with Galli even if he didn’t want to show it.

  “Then he goes and insults me!”

  She wasn’t a ram-the-whaler-ships, gung-ho, guerilla environmentalist. She recycled ruthlessly, she drove a hybrid car and didn’t litter. That did not make her a fanatic. It made her a responsible citizen.

  Groaning in frustration, she dropped her head back and closed her eyes. The tears had been pushed aside by annoyance. Because, damn it, Gasoline Man was right. Mimosa Key was a progressive town looking to expand and welcome new people and business. Why would they block a jet ski rental? There was even a plan to add a gas station to bring the grand total up to two. They weren’t urban, but they were growing.

  She liked that they didn’t bulldoze the old to build the new. Of course the hurricane had bulldozed part of the island, but it had been rebuilt as a beautiful resort that enhanced the small town feeling instead of thumbing its nose at it.

  Her attitude was the only one thumbing its nose at Mimosa Key. She groaned. She sat up.

  “So what? I made my case and the Council voted to recommend the ski rental shop. That should take care of that, right?”

  There was no one to hear her except the seven dogs in her care. She’d go work them, now, one at a time and put this episode behind her. Do the job she loved so much.

  One hour with Dervish and Dixie was ready for a stiff drink. He’d sit and not get up. He’d heel but lean into her so she’d stop or be pushed into the fence. And smile the whole time. But, he was making progress.

  “Let’s get you back in the kennel.” Dervish grinned and dragged her to the open door. “Okay, not that much progress.” She brought him back to her side then gave him a good head rub and closed the kennel door.

  She decided to treat herself and go into town for lunch. A quick wash and a change of clothes later, she headed for Mimosa. She decided on the Toasted Pelican and one of their cheeseburgers. The waitress took her order and set a foaming glass of beer in front of her in less than a minute. Dixie grinned, thanked her and lifted the glass only to freeze when she saw Brand Taylor walk in. Unfortunately—and this was getting to be a habit—he caught her eye before she could look away. He smiled and walked to her booth looking like a beach bum. The board shorts and T-shirt, combined with leather sandals, made him look…delicious.

  “Are you old enough to drink that beer?”

  Until he opened his mouth. “Ha, ha. You’re a funny man.” She took a long, cool drink and set the glass down.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  He slid into the booth across from her.

  “Do you speak English?”

  “I speak it but I don’t understand it.”

  “That explains a lot.”

  He laughed. He had a nice laugh.

  The waitress returned. “Hey, Brand. How’s it going?”

  “Good, Denise. Thanks.”

  “The usual?”

  “That’d be great.”

  He knows a locals bar and the waitress by name and has a “usual”. How did he get settled in town without me knowing about it?

  But, to be totally honest, she was devoted to the dogs and the kennel and rarely came into town. She sighed.

  “Why the sigh?”

  “Why not? Here I am, about to enjoy my lunch, and in walks my neighbor,” she said, making air quotes. “The neighbor who—”

  “Is very happy he ran into you. I like you, Dixie. I’d like to get to know you better.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

  “Why do I like you, or why do I want to get to know you?”

  Exasperated, she snapped, “Pick one!”

  He blinked. “Okay. I like you because you’re passionate about your work, you stand up for what you believe in, and you’re making living with Galli possible. I want to get to know you better because all of the above and…I think you’re a beautiful woman.”

  It was her turn to blink. He’d nailed it. Everything but the beautiful woman part, that is. She only wanted the best for her dogs. And they were all her dogs once they entered her orbit. Even Galli. His dog. His cousin’s dog.

  “Do you own a dog?”

  “What? You’re the one training Galli.”

  “He’s your cousin’s dog, though.”

  “Uh, technically. But he’s mine until Tim comes back.”

  “Have you ever had a dog of your own?”

  * * *

  Brand thought back to Veronique, and Esme, the teacup poodle they had together. True, Veronique was the one who wanted a pocketbook dog. He didn’t know what he’d wanted so he’d gone along with her. Their breakup had given him a couple of bad weeks. But he’d grieved for both of them after the Paris attacks. Esme would be alive if Veronique hadn’t carried her around everywhere.

  Nobody was carrying Galli anywhere.

  Should he confess he’d once owned half of a teacup poodle? All the dogs at her kennel, with the exception of Baby, were good-sized animals. None of them was less than sixty pounds. Did masculinity depend on the size of the dog? And how could anyone answer that question without sounding like a moron?

  But all the dogs at the kennel had other owners. Hmm. Where was her dog?

  “Have you?”

  “Of course. I’ve owned several dogs over the years.”

  “And now?”

  She hesitated. “Why do you want to know? And, besides, I asked you first.”

  “Ooh. Mature conversation. I’ve missed it.”

  She snorted. “You know the Bluetick Coonhound at the kennel?”

  “I assume that doesn’t mean he has ticks.”

  She couldn’t help it. She laughed. “No, it doesn’t mean he has ticks.”

  Glad he’d teased a laugh out of her, he grinned. “Does he have fleas? No. That would make him a Blueflea Coonhound.”

  She shook her head. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “Is there really such a thing as a Bluetick Coonhound? Sounds like a cartoon dog.”

  “They can be kind of goof
y but they’re loyal and tenacious and make great companions.”

  “Tell me about this Bluetick Coonhound.”

  “He’s mine.”

  “They’re all yours.”

  Her reaction was everything he could want. Shock, annoyance, surprise, wariness.

  “I own him.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Folsom Blues.”

  “A Johnny Cash fan. I’d never have guessed.”

  “Don’t take that tone with me. I’m from the South. We’re all Johnny Cash fans.”

  “Relax. I am, too.”

  “You? No way.”

  “Why not? ’Cause I’m not from the South?”

  She leaned back and chewed on her bottom lip. He managed to not groan or leap over the table to help her.

  “You seem more like the Barenaked Ladies type.”

  “I like them too.”

  “Back to dogs. He’s a Bluetick Coonhound which led me to blue, which was soon followed by Folsom. And Johnny Cash was on the radio when I brought him home.”

  “Now that makes sense.”

  The waitress came over to deliver their meals. Dixie looked at least resigned to eating lunch with him so his plan had worked. So far.

  Glad to see she was a meat eater and not a salad picker, he dug into his steak and cheese with onions. Halfway through the fantastic sub, he noticed Dixie was staring at it.

  “What?”

  “Where are the peppers and mushrooms? Did they leave them off?” She looked around for their waitress.

  “No. This is the way I eat it. I don’t eat fungi and peppers give me heartburn.”

  The look on her face told him he’d just lost more points than he’d gained by talking dog with her.

  “You don’t like mushrooms? Or peppers?”

  “I love peppers. They don’t love me.”

  “Huh.” She lifted one of the peppers they’d garnished her burger with and took a healthy bite.

  He shivered. “Ahh.”

  She crunched her way through the pepper then returned her attention to her burger.

  “Don’t come to me when your throat is burning later tonight.” He took a satisfying bite of his sub when Dixie looked past him and slid out of the booth. His mouth full, he turned to see what had her jumping up hoping he wouldn’t have to say hello to someone until he swallowed.

  Swallowing gamely, he saw her leap into a man’s arms. He inhaled and choked on the lump of meat that went down the wrong way. The man leaned over to pound him on the back.

  “Take it easy there, son.”

  With his eyes watering, he managed to finally speak.

  “Perry?”

  Chapter Four

  “Were you expecting someone else?”

  “No, but I wasn’t expecting you, either,” Brand said.

  They shook hands. Dixie kept one arm hooked around Perry’s neck until they both sat down across from him.

  “It’s great to see you. When did you get back? What are you doing here?” she asked with a big smile.

  “Whoa! One at a time. Let’s see, it’s good to see you, too. I got back late last night. And I’m here checking up on you.”

  “Ha! I should be checking up on you.”

  Perry laughed.

  “Dixie and I were just having lunch,” Brand said.

  She glared at him but the twinkle in Perry’s eye lit up like a laser.

  “We, uh, ran into each other. By accident,” he said gamely.

  Perry looked between Dixie and Brand. “You accidentally ran into Dixie in the same restaurant and the same booth?”

  Dixie poked Perry in the ribs. “That is why you need supervision.” She made a face at him. “And this is almost the only restaurant on the island.” She looked away. “That I can afford, anyway.”

  Brand saw a shadow pass quickly over Dixie’s face. But it was Perry’s expression that had him thinking. Perry grinned.

  “We’ll see what we can do about that.”

  Dixie about-faced. “What? You’re giving me a raise?”

  “In a way.”

  Brand tapped a finger on the tabletop. He knew enough about Perry DeWalt to know he was a trickster. Hadn’t he managed to pay the tab at the resort? Even though Brand insisted he would pay for his own? The bartender had shrugged and smiled and later confided he had a deal at the bar. If Perry had two drinks with someone, he picked up the tab. Perry liked getting his way and stacked the deck when possible.

  “I’m signing the kennel over to you.”

  Brand happened to be looking at Dixie when Perry spoke. She blinked a couple of times and started to speak but gave up. She put her forehead in her hand.

  “Teasing me like that is just mean, Perry,” she mumbled.

  “If you think that’s mean, I wonder what you’re going to say when I tell you it comes with enough operating capital to keep you going long enough for you to get established?”

  Dixie slowly lifted her head and narrowed her eyes. Brand was glad Perry was the recipient of this glare. “That’s cruel.”

  Perry laughed. “Yeah, that’s me. Cruel, mean ol’ Perry who owes your parents more than he can ever repay.”

  “I know they helped you—”

  “Helped? They made me. If not for them, I wouldn’t have been half as successful. They saved my business.”

  “Then pay them back!”

  “I am! The only way they’ll let me. By the way, don’t mention this to them, okay?”

  She made a sound that was remarkably like a growl. Brand was impressed.

  Perry chuckled and patted Dixie on the back. “I’ve been good friends with your parents for thirty years, Dix. They worked nights and weekends for me when I started my business. And wouldn’t take wages.”

  “Papa wouldn’t accept that. He did a favor as a favor, not for a reward.”

  Perry frowned at her. “You sound just like him,” he mumbled. “But the work they did for me was more than a favor. And you’re right, your pa wouldn’t, and still won’t, take a cent.”

  “But I should?”

  “Yes,” Perry said. “I know you’re not as stubborn as your father. Your mother’s still working on him, by the way. She’s a smart woman. Both of them worked hard and long all their lives. They had three daughters and two sons.”

  Five kids? was all Brand could think.

  “Cash, the eldest, will get the farm, and it’s a damn fine farm. Mason is the mechanic. He can fix anything with one, two, three or four wheels. Eighteen wheels if it comes to that. Raeanne’s a homebody and she’s still seeing the Layton boy. Sue Ellen wants to decorate houses.” He shook his head. “Never could see why people would pay for someone else to pick out a comfortable chair for them. I mean, what’s comfortable for you might be a nightmare for the next guy. Anyway, it’s what she wants.”

  “It is.” Dixie looked at Perry with new eyes. “I never realized you were so observant.”

  Perry laughed. “I’m a millionaire with no wife, no kids, and a family I love very much.” He looked into her eyes. “So I ‘created’ a scholarship for Cash to go to the agri college, an apprenticeship for Mason, design school for Sue Ellen, and sent Raeanne to a fine arts college for her M-R-S degree.” At Dixie’s puzzled look, he chuckled. “Her Mrs. degree. Thought she’d meet a nice man there. Someone who deserves her.”

  The first tear slipped down Dixie’s cheek. “And you found a kennel for me to manage, and time to see if I would be happy.”

  “You betcha.”

  She hugged Perry hard. “I can’t thank you enough, for me or for my family.”

  “You can thank me by keeping this between us.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re the only one I’ve told. And I don’t want them to know.”

  “Why not? Don’t you want—”

  “No, he doesn’t want,” Brand said. “He’s the nice Machiavelli. He’s sneaky and kind, sly and generous.”

  Perry raised his eyebrows. “How do you k
now?”

  “The bartender tattled.”

  Perry laughed again. “I’ll have to have a little talk with him.”

  “Don’t blame him. I pushed. A lot.”

  A waitress approached. “I didn’t see you slip in, Mr. DeWalt. What’ll you have?”

  “I’ll have what she’s having.”

  Brand groaned. “Don’t call me when your throat’s on fire later tonight.”

  * * *

  Dixie got out of her car. Her head was still reeling from Perry’s revelations about apprenticeships, tuition and free kennels. She felt a need to call her parents and a need to keep Perry’s secret. Parents. Perry. Parents. Perry.

  Perry got out of his own car, walked up to her and closed her car door behind her.

  “Thanks.” She laughed without mirth. “I seem to be saying that a lot lately.”

  He grinned. “Only to me. I noticed you didn’t say it when Brand insisted on picking up the check.”

  She felt her face heat. “I was in shock. I’ll thank him later.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  “Okay. What do you want to do now?”

  “I have some work in the kennel.”

  “Good. I’ll get to see the doggies.”

  She chuckled. “Doggies?”

  He opened the kennel door to the crescendo of barking, baying canines eager for company. “Ah, that’s better than the opera any day,” he said, raising his voice to be heard.

  “All right, boys,” Dixie called. “Calm down.” The volume decreased infinitesimally.

  “Let’s take them out for a run.”

  Dixie smiled. Perry was, as ever, like a kid with a new toy. “Sure.”

  They started opening kennel doors. The dogs leaped and yipped with joy then headed to the fenced area where they could play and run. Dagger and Dervish cavorted into the play area and pretend attacked the throw toys scattered on the ground. Baby tried to keep up. Blues stuck by Dixie’s side, marking his territory by his presence. She was happy he never felt the need to pee to mark her as his. She realized Champagne wasn’t in the yard.

  “Champagne? C’mere, boy.” His head was in the doorway and she could tell he was wagging his tail because his head waved back and forth like a sail in the wind.

  “He’s cute,” Perry said. “Why’s he staying inside?”

 

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