Daniel walked Summer and John to a back room with a long, metal exam table meant for animals. Ella and Destiny sat in the two guest chairs, with Mav on Destiny’s lap.
“Mommy!” She leaped out of her seat, and Mav jumped to the floor and headed straight to John.
“Let me look at you.” Summer embraced Des gently, then inched her back, making a face when Destiny lowered the ice pack to reveal a purple bruise visible under the strap of her tank top. “Whoa, that’s a beauty.”
“She’s such a trouper,” Ella said, giving Destiny’s hair a ruffle. “And she can sing like a bird. And so can Mav.”
Destiny looked up at Ella and smiled.
“I really would love to have you join the singers on Monday, Des,” Ella said. “We’re working on three songs that we’ll perform at the end of camp. The dogs are going to do a parade during the last number…” She leaned very close to Destiny to add in a stage whisper, “We’re singing ‘Who Let the Dogs Out?’”
Destiny shook her head sharply. “Mommy,” she said, pulling Summer closer to whisper in her ear.
“Why don’t we all wait outside?” Daniel suggested quickly. “Let Destiny talk to her mom.”
“Good idea,” Ella said, patting Mav who was curled in John’s arms. “He’s a little traumatized, too.”
“Don’t take Mav!” Destiny called as they started toward the door.
Summer held her hand up. “Let him go with John,” she said. “They’ll be right outside. I want to talk to you without a distraction.”
Of course, she wanted to know exactly what happened from Destiny’s perspective and probably examine the bruise. As they stepped into the hall, Daniel was called away by one of the trainers, so John waited with Ella.
“How’s she doing, really?” John asked her.
“She needs to be singing,” Ella said, clearly frustrated. “Her voice is ridiculous. She’s really, really talented, John.”
“But she stutters,” he replied. “And she’s afraid that she can’t come in on time with the other singers.” He lifted a brow. “You’re in charge of the music, right?”
“Yeah, and I want her in my little camp chorus. Can you talk her into it?”
“I don’t think you can talk that little girl into anything,” he said. “But I did get her over the fear of throwing a ball.”
“Then get her over her fear of singing with a group.” She stroked Mav’s little head as he cuddled into John’s chest, always happy to be “home” after his long day at camp.
“I have no idea how to do that, Ella,” he said. “Softball, yes. Singing, no.”
“She just needs to practice the process of coming in on cue.”
“So…we should sing with her?”
Her big brown eyes suddenly got huge, and her jaw dropped wide open. “Barbie!”
“Is she another camper?”
“It’s the answer.” She gave her hands a clap. “Barbie’s karaoke machine! Darcy had one when we were little, and we used to sing up in Gramma Finnie’s apartment.” She pointed in the general direction of the main house where, he knew, Gramma Finnie once occupied the third floor. “If she still has that machine, I’m telling you, it could teach her how to start on cue. It might be in the attic, but it could be long gone.”
“Then I’ll get another karaoke machine.”
“You could, but, man, there’s something magical about Barbie’s. It’s pink, and that microphone felt so good in my hand when I would belt out ‘You Are My Sunshine.’ Ask Darcy. I was a beast.”
He laughed. “I believe you. I guess I could go look in the attic now. I was up there a couple of days ago to get a pillow, and there is a ton of crap up there.”
“I’ve got to go back to camp,” Ella said. “I’m helping serve lunch. But just look for a pink box about the size of a toaster. And get all the cassettes.”
“Cassettes? Like…” He made a square with his hands and a face of disbelief.
“Yes. It was the nineties, dude. Make sure you find ‘Sunshine.’ She’d kill that. Okay. Gotta go.”
“Wait.” He held his hand out. “First of all, thanks for staying with her. Second, if I find this machine and she practices, would you give her a solo during the performance at the end of camp?”
Her dark brows arched up in surprise. “No one’s getting solos. It just makes for crazy, fighting kids. We’re trying to be extra fair.”
“Well, no one else got beaned playing ball except her, and I think she deserves something for it.”
“John.” She angled her head, her smile highlighting her striking bone structure. “You really care about that kid.”
“Well, she’s living upstairs from me.”
“And maybe you really care about her mother.”
He barely shrugged. “Maybe I do.”
She bit her lip. “The grannies are going to be so happy.”
“Of course you’ll tell them.”
“Of course,” she said airily. “I’ll think about the solo. You make a compelling argument about the getting beaned. But I have to tell you…” She leaned closer to whisper, “Christian’s going to have to learn that if you want a girl’s attention, you don’t throw things at her.”
“He…oh, yeah. I can see that little crush happening.”
“More than one, it seems.”
“More boys have crushes on her?” For some reason, he wasn’t sure he liked that. She was just a kid, and boys were…boys.
Ella laughed. “I meant you and her mom.” She gave a little wave and jogged toward the door, leaving John with Maverick.
Well, yeah. He had a crushing crush on Summer Jackson. And if some twenty-five-year-old toy karaoke machine could help her little girl, then…
“Come on, Mav,” he whispered to the dog. “Let’s go hunt for Barbie and ‘Sunshine’ and…” He gave a squeeze and put his mouth closer to Mav’s ear like Destiny did. “Who are we, anyway?”
The dog barked.
“Yeah. Crushed. Both of us. And poor little Christian, the Dogmothers, and hell, is there anyone those two haven’t enchanted yet?”
* * *
Getting Destiny completely calm and even laughing a little took a lot longer than Summer had expected. There were a lot of tears and confessions. She liked softball, but didn’t love it. She liked Christian, but not right this moment. And she liked camp and was scared Summer would take her out of it.
Once all of that was discussed and all the reassurances were given, they came out of the little exam room, a good forty-five minutes after they’d entered. Summer was surprised to find John in the waiting room, playing ball with Mav on the leather sofa. No, maybe she wasn’t surprised. Of course he’d wait, find out how Des was, and make sure they got home safely. That’s who he was.
“I saved you a box lunch, Destiny,” he said as the puppy ran to Destiny. “I figured you’d be hungry.”
And he’d worry that she ate because, well, John. A man who could make Summer’s poor heart swell with affection with one simple act.
“Thank you,” Summer answered for Destiny, giving her a break on manners and responses right now. Plus, she’d already folded on the floor to get kisses from Mav.
“Gramma Finnie and Yiayia are here for camp, doing some baking and…grandmother things,” he added. “They invited us to have lunch with them. Unless Destiny is anxious to get home and rest, then I’ll take you back.”
“I’m not going home,” Des said softly, then looked up at Summer. “Do I ha-ha-have to?”
“No, but you can’t do any more camp activities today. I want to rest that bruise, maybe ice it some more. Do you want to have lunch with the Dogmothers?”
“The fairy Dogmothers,” she corrected with a smile. “Yes.”
“They’ll be thrilled.” John stood and lifted a small cardboard box with a drink and bag of chips visible. “Yiayia made Greek salad, but she won’t mind if you eat this hot dog instead.”
“’Kay.” Destiny scrambled to her feet and tried to scoop up Mav,
making a face of pain at the effort.
“Don’t pick him up yet,” Summer warned.
“Let’s see if he’ll follow you,” John said. “No leash. You’re learning how to get him to do that, right?”
Her whole face brightened. “Watch.” She took a few steps forward and reached her hand down with an official flourish, trying to snap her fingers, but failing. Then she clucked twice. “Come, Mavvie. Walk.”
He didn’t move, but stared at her.
“I bet he knows I don’t have a treat,” Destiny said, dutifully defending her beloved Mav.
“Here you go.” John opened a jar on an end table, scooping out a handful of kibble to hand to her. “Try again.”
She repeated everything with a serious expression, including the flip of her hand as she clucked twice and commanded Mav to walk. This time, he got up, came next to her, sniffed her hand, and she rewarded him.
“That’s amazing, Des!” Summer exclaimed.
“It really is,” John agreed. “I hadn’t even thought about trying to train him yet. Thanks for helping me out.”
Des gave him a quick look, so fast he probably missed the warning in her eyes, but Summer didn’t. And her heart dropped a little because a whole week of Tails and Trails had passed, and Summer hadn’t even mentioned another dog. And that had been one of the major selling points of camp. But Summer was willing to bet Destiny hadn’t spent five minutes with any other dog.
As they crossed the lawns, they saw the trainers in the pen cooling off some dogs with spray hoses. Destiny stopped and pointed at a familiar German shepherd.
“There’s Jag,” she said, her gaze scanning the group as if she looked for Jag’s owner, but Christian wasn’t out in the pen. No doubt he was with the large group of kids eating at picnic tables set up under oak trees they could see in the distance. Or still suffering from a serious bout of regret and worry.
“Do you want to find Christian and talk to him, Des?” Summer asked.
She shook her head.
“Well, he wants to talk to you,” John said. “He came into the vet office twice to ask if you were okay.”
Once again, a cool shrug—from the shoulder that didn’t hurt.
“Des,” Summer said softly. “You need to forgive him.”
She clucked twice at Mav, gave him a treat, and hustled along, clearly not ready to forgive anybody anything.
Yiayia was waiting on the wraparound porch as they approached, her dark hair ruffling in the afternoon breeze, her intense gaze locked on Destiny.
“How bad?” she asked.
“I’m okay,” Destiny said. “I’m h-h-hungry.”
“Good, I made some taramasalata, which is so good with moussaka and melitzanosalata. Unless you want some octopus and courgette balls?”
Destiny stopped dead in her tracks and stared in silent horror, and Yiayia stared right back for five solid seconds, before throwing her head back in a laugh and coming down the steps. “I’m kidding, little one. I know you have a hot dog and chips.”
She put a gentle arm around Destiny, careful of her shoulder, taking the box lunch from John. “But Gramma Finnie did make homemade lemonade. Would you like some of that?”
She nodded and let the older woman lead her up to the patio, with Mav coming right along.
For a moment, Summer stayed at the bottom of the steps, watching her daughter disappear into the kitchen with Yiayia, not even turning to look back for her. For one insane, wild second…she wished she didn’t have to leave the comfort of this home and family.
“I have a surprise in the car.” John’s whispered words startled her.
Or the comfort of this man.
“A surprise?” she asked, tamping down the thought. “Unless it’s a new dog who is every bit as cute as that one…”
“There is no such creature.”
Summer smiled up at him. “Then, honey, we are in for the fight of our lives when this is over.” Maybe that was the reason she suddenly didn’t want to leave—the inevitable tears over Mav.
And John.
“I’m not worried,” he said. “He’s happier with her than anyone.”
“What’s the surprise?”
“If I tell you, it won’t be a surprise. But it’s for later, when we’re home, when Destiny is settled and not still shaken up by the whole day.”
“It sure has been a…” She gasped. “John! What about the sales thing? Don’t you have to reply today?”
“By five,” he reminded her, always so calm and steady. “It’s one phone call to give George my new offer.”
“So you’re really going to do it?”
“After what you read on Barnard’s computer? I’d be crazy not to. If I have to go looking for a new property and set up the whole concept again…” He gave a grunt like the very idea killed him. “A delay like that, and I may never get another investor on board. Yes, I’m making the offer. I feel like if I wait to have Barnard’s official investment deal, George Shipley’s going to accept the higher bid.”
She put her hand over her chest, not knowing the amounts, but still certain a lot of money was at stake. “What if I read it wrong?”
He inched back, brows drawn. “You seemed pretty sure back in the square.”
“I was. I am. I mean, I read the words ‘I would never miss this deal.’ But could he have meant something else?”
She could have sworn he paled for a moment.
“I mean, I know you like things well-thought-out before you take a chance.”
His lips lifted into a half smile. “I used to,” he said softly. “Then some Summer breeze blew into Bitter Bark…” He took her chin in his thumb and index finger, his dark eyes pinned on her. “And the next thing I know, I’m offering my house, teaching kids softball, and playing spy games in the town square.”
His touch was so light, but somehow she felt it right down to her toes. “A summer breeze, huh? What if I…blew it?” She winked, making him laugh. “Seriously, John, you’re counting on my having read that screen right.”
“I am. And if you’re wrong and he wasn’t Tom or you misread the screen, then…”
She cringed. “Then…what?”
“Then you…” He leaned close to whisper in her ear. “Will have to get very creative in how you make it up to me.”
She drew back a bit, steadying herself from the little wave of dizziness that threatened. “Oh,” she whispered. “That’s a…change.”
“Not really. I’m just tired of fighting the feelings.”
She let out a long, soft sigh. “To quote a famous astrophysicist-turned-instructor in our favorite movie, ‘This is going to be complicated.’”
He angled his head, thinking. “I can’t remember the next line.”
“He didn’t respond. Just got up to take a shower.” She put her hand over his, pressing his fingertips against her jaw, lost in his eyes. “I told you I know Top Gun better than you do.”
For many, many heartbeats, the world seemed to disappear. There was no one but John. No dogs barking, no kids squealing, no grannies, probably, in the window watching.
There was only this kind, sweet, sexy man who worried about whether her daughter ate lunch and made Summer’s whole body feel weak and warm.
She moved a fraction closer and sensed him doing the same, like an invisible thread tugged at both of them, taking them toward the inevitable—
“Lunch is served!”
They both turned toward the voice, meeting the wry smile of Agnes Santorini. “Unless you’re too, uh, busy to eat.”
“Never too busy for you, Yiayia,” John said, taking Summer’s hand and walking up the steps with her.
Chapter Sixteen
From the moment the conversation started, John had a low-grade sense that something might be wrong. George Shipley didn’t seem particularly overjoyed by the verbal offer. And John could hear Mrs. Shipley’s muffled voice on the other end of the line, pulling some strings and having more influence over the outc
ome of this deal than George let on.
Good God, he wasn’t going to make him go any higher, was he? Because at that point, the numbers for the property would no longer make sense, and George knew that.
Then what? The whole stinking deal would fall through.
“You do realize I’m offering a very quick close,” John added after George had hesitated once again for far too long. “You can have the money in your bank by mid-August.”
George let out a long, low sigh. “I know, John, and that’s good. It’s just that…” He mumbled something to his wife, then said to John, “We’re not completely sure we want to sell at all.”
What? John pushed off the leather sofa in Daniel Kilcannon’s office, where he’d come to make the call in private. “When we signed this lease—”
“No, no, we do want to sell. I do, anyway.”
So it was his wife? Susan? Sarah? He couldn’t remember her name, but as the long pauses continued and the woman’s tone, if not her words, came through, John knew that the problematic one in this couple was Mrs. Shipley.
“Why would you not sell?” he asked, not understanding the decision at all. It wasn’t like they could waltz back in and reopen Hoagies & Heroes. But if the lease agreement expired, then they could sell it to the higher bidder. Which would be sleazy and unethical, but not illegal.
“Rents are going up in Bitter Bark,” George said vaguely after his wife said something inaudible.
So they wanted him to commit to another year at a higher rent before selling to him? He stabbed his fingers through his hair and paced through the masculine-toned office, glancing at the Irish setter photos on the wall of each family dog dating back to the 1950s. Then he turned to the bay window and stared out at the rolling hills of velvet green all the way to the blue mountain range in the distant horizon.
But he didn’t see any of the scenery. John’s mind was a literal calculator, flipping through the possibilities, discarding all of them as not feasible. One dime more, and this deal would be downright stupid.
“When are you going to make a decision?” John ground out the question.
“I’m making it,” George said sharply, giving John the distinct impression the man was making his point to someone else. “We’ll take the offer, John.” Anger, frustration, and defiance darkened the simple statement.
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