Star Bright

“Exactly. Fortunately I have a little windup I take on trips. In the book, they claim the tickin’ sound mimics the mother dog’s heartbeat and soothes the puppy.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Hell, no.”

  Rainie couldn’t smother a laugh. “What did you do?”

  “Well, at first, I lectured him about knowin’ his place and not gettin’ any highfalutin ideas about sleepin’ with me. That wasn’t gonna happen. I don’t mind him bein’ an inside dog, but a man’s got to draw the line somewhere. Right?”

  “Right. So where did you draw yours?”

  “Right down the middle.”

  “Right down the middle of what?”

  He gave her a slow, conspiratorial wink. “Of my king-size bed.”

  She laughed again. Parker had that effect on her. That was one of the reasons he made her so nervous: because she found him so disarming.

  “Only he doesn’t understand boundary lines,” he continued. “I fell asleep with him suckin’ on my armpit hair.”

  That did it. Rainie collapsed against the fender of her car, so overcome by laughter that her knees would barely hold her up. He watched her with a bemused grin.

  “You think that’s funny, do you?”

  She nodded as she wiped tears of mirth from her cheeks. He sighed and plopped the hat back on his dark head. “Yeah, well, I have to admit I found it a little humorous myself. I got a dog that’ll grow up to be more stubborn than I am. I never thought I’d see the day when I’d sleep with a critter that’s got a perpetual leak. Got up this mornin’ and had to change my sheets.”

  “He’ll get over missing his mother soon,” she assured him.

  “Maybe. But what if he switches his devotion to me and wants to sleep with me when he weighs a hundred and fifty pounds?”

  “At least you’ve got a roomy bed.”

  His lips twitched. “You’re a huge help.”

  Rainie spent the morning trying to work. Unfortunately Mojo wanted to play, and he refused to take no for an answer. The wading pool was absolutely worthless as a holding pen and took up so much of the walking room that she finally wrestled it out to the hallway and left it leaning against the wall. Then she covered the floor with newspaper, which Mojo thought was immense fun. She would just get the sheets neatly arranged when he would attack them. By the time Parker showed up for their trip to town, the office looked as if the ceiling had rained confetti.

  “Dear God. Is this my office? Maybe I should buy him a cage.”

  “You can’t leave an active baby in a cage all day.”

  He conceded the point with a pensive nod. “It doesn’t look like you got much work done.”

  “That depends on how you define work. I’ve kept busy, just not doing anything productive. I need to log some entries from yesterday. Maybe we can start watching him in shifts.”

  Parker leaned down to scoop up the puppy. Mojo immediately attacked his shirt collar. “I found a deep box and put a saddle blanket in there for him. You reckon we should take along some food and water, too?”

  “I reckon,” she echoed, trying to suppress a grin.

  While Rainie went to the coffee room to mix Mojo some meals, which she stored in empty baby-food jars, Parker collected the puppy’s dishes and filled a sports bottle with water.

  “This is as bad as havin’ a baby,” he complained. “All we’re lackin’ is diapers.”

  “He’ll grow up soon and it won’t be so much trouble to take him places.”

  He put everything into a plastic shopping bag, collected the puppy, and said, “Well, I think we’re all set.”

  Rainie thought that might be an overly optimistic statement, and she was right. Mojo immediately began yelping when Parker put him inside the box. They drove only about half a mile before Parker pulled over to the side of the road. “Would you mind holdin’ him?”

  Rainie held out her arms. Mojo whimpered and cuddled close in her embrace. “He’s so relieved. I think the box scared him.”

  Parker pulled back out into the lane. “He’s gonna get another fright, then. They won’t allow him in the restaurant. It’s against health regulations. I can’t leave him loose in the truck. He’ll poop and pee everywhere.”

  “We could just do fast food.”

  “No way. You’re fixed up too pretty. I promised you a real lunch, and you’re gettin’ a real lunch.”

  Rainie would have been just as happy with a hamburger. It bothered her to think that Mojo would cry the entire time they were gone. When they got to the restaurant, a little hole-in-the-wall place on Main, she cast a gloomy glance at the window, where the name ROMANO’S was painted on the glass in red shadow block. Parker plucked the puppy from her arms and gently returned him to the box on the backseat. Mojo instantly started to yelp and whimper. The sound tore at her heart.

  Parker gave her a long look. “I could order takeout and we could eat out here.”

  A smile swelled in Rainie’s chest. No wonder Parker Harrigan was so hard for her to resist. “That’d be fun. Or we could go to the park.”

  “Mojo can’t go to places like parks until he’s fully immunized. Tucker says he could catch parvo or distemper.”

  “Is the pet store safe? Other dogs go in there, too.”

  “Tucker says that’s safe because they disinfect the floors every night.” He nudged his hat back to grin at her. “Let me go in and order. Rosa will fix us right up. She’s a sweetheart.”

  Expecting Parker to be gone for quite a while, Rainie took Mojo out of the box and held him in her arms. To her surprise, though, Parker returned in only seconds to tap on the glass. She lowered the window. “They don’t do takeout?”

  “They do, but they want us to bring him in. Rosa invited us to eat in back at their kitchen table. She says the health regulations don’t extend to their private living area and the inspector won’t care.”

  “But Mojo may make a mess on her floor.”

  “She’s got newspapers.” He grinned and shrugged. “Like I said, she’s a sweetheart.”

  Rosa Romano was a short, plump Italian woman who wore her graying black hair in a coiled braid at the crown of her head. A flour-streaked red apron protected her clothing, a grandmotherly ensemble of polyester stretch pants and a diagonal-print blouse. The moment Rainie stepped inside the restaurant, Rosa began talking and gesturing, her friendliness and warmth so contagious that Rainie instantly relaxed.

  “So this is Mojo!” the woman cried, taking the puppy from Rainie’s arms. “Papa, you gotta come see. He’s a little pistol!”

  Mr. Romano was as thin as Rosa was plump and only marginally taller. His shiny bald pate, rimmed by a band of short gray hair clipped high over his ears, shone like a polished globe in the fluorescent light as he crossed the empty dining area. A broad grin creased his wrinkled visage when he saw the puppy. “Oho, he’ll grow to be a monster, Parker. Just look at those paws. It is good you come early!” He motioned for them to follow him into the back rooms. “Rosa and I have no customers yet. It doesn’t get busy until twelve thirty. Then we barely get a break until closing.”

  They passed through a commercial kitchen area that was so aromatic Rainie’s mouth started to water. Homemade bread, marinara sauce, oregano and basil—the air smelled good enough to eat. The apartment in back was small and cluttered but spotless. Rosa seated them at a small oak table with a centerpiece bowl of colorful dried peppers and gourds.

  “Finally,” she said to her husband, who was filling water glasses, “our Parker has found himself a nice girl! No goop on her face, no claws for fingernails.” She beamed at Rainie. “It is good to know he has some good sense somewhere under that hat he has glued on his head.”

  Parker waggled his eyebrows lecherously at Rainie, then removed the Stetson and hooked it over the back of a chair beside him. “Sorry, Rosa, I was raised in a barn. Well, a stable, actually, but the point is the same. I forget my manners.”

  The older woman laughed and rumpled his black hair. “You
are like my Michael when he comes home. No worries about manners in his mama’s kitchen. It is where he can forget being a fancy businessman.”

  “What kind of business is he in?” Rainie asked.

  “Our Michael is a bank president,” Rosa said proudly. Rubbing her fingertips together, she laughed and added, “He makes big money.”

  With an expertise born of long practice, Rosa put place mats in front of them and quickly arranged their place settings, complete with artfully folded bright red napkins. Then she handed them each a menu. Rainie felt strange sitting in someone’s kitchen to order a meal. But at least Mojo was happy. Mr. Romano tossed down newspapers on the kitchen floor, which the puppy promptly attacked and started to shake. The couple laughed in delight at the puppy’s ferocious growls.

  Parker highly recommended that Rainie try the spaghetti and meatballs or the lasagna. In the end, she ordered one, and he ordered the other. Rosa gave them each an extra plate so they could share. Then she and her husband, who Rainie learned was called Pete, joined them at the table to grab some lunch themselves. At their insistence, Rainie was soon forking up ravioli from their bowls to taste the different fillings. Pete’s were made with a variety of fine cheeses, Rosa’s with chicken and beef. It was impossible for Rainie to remain tense with such warm, relaxed people. She was soon laughing and talking with them as if she’d known them all her life.

  “Yum, this food is indescribable,” she said in all sincerity. She glanced over to see Parker break off a large chunk of crusty, piping-hot Italian bread. “Thank you for bringing me.”

  “Don’t thank me,” he said. “I’m doin’ my own belly a favor—to heck with yours.”

  Rainie so enjoyed the meal that she hated to see it end, but all too soon the food was gone, and the Romanos were drawn from the table by the customer bell chiming out front.

  “Just leave the dishes,” Rosa said with a wave of her plump hand. “They must be washed in the commercial machine.”

  “You haven’t billed me,” Parker protested.

  Rosa flapped her hand again as she vanished from the room. “You are like family. Do you think I bill our Michael when he comes home for lunch?”

  After Rosa departed, Parker looked at Rainie. “Can you remember how much the lasagna was? I can’t eat their food and not pay for it.”

  Rainie agreed and fished through her purse for a pen and paper to add up their bill. Then she insisted on paying for her half. Parker rolled his eyes but finally accepted her money. “You’re a stubborn woman, Rainie Pritchard.”

  “We’re just friends, remember, and friends go dutch.”

  After picking up all the newspapers, they exited through the front part of the restaurant with Mojo hidden under Parker’s shirt. Well, sort of hidden. It looked as if he had a lumpy bosom that jiggled when he walked, which set Rainie to laughing. Her face was hot with suppressed mirth by the time they got back in the truck.

  “I haven’t had this much fun in I can’t remember when,” she confessed, her mouth still curved in a smile.

  “Stick with me, darlin’. I’m more fun than a barrelful of monkeys.” He handed her the puppy and started the truck engine. “Next up, the pet store,” he said. “I don’t have a collar or leash, so we’ll have to carry him while we shop.”

  That sounded like a workable plan to Rainie—until Parker made the mistake of putting Mojo down for just a moment to help her find a purple Tasmanian Devil in a display basket. The moment the puppy’s feet touched the pet-store floor, he was off and running.

  “Shit!” Parker said under his breath.

  And the chase was on. Rainie nearly had a heart attack when she saw Mojo heading straight for a huge male Great Dane. She felt sure the puppy would be killed on the spot. But instead the adult dog suffered the puppy’s tumbling assault with gentle forbearance. The Great Dane’s owner, a slender, middle-aged woman with blond hair, laughed at Mojo’s enthusiastic attempts to make friends.

  Before Parker could catch Mojo, the little rascal was off, and Parker was soon cursing under his breath again. Rainie clapped a hand over her mouth when she saw the problem. About ten feet ahead of them, Mojo had squatted to pee. By the time they reached him, a puddle glistened on the tile floor. Parker scooped up the runaway puppy, winked at Rainie, and started humming the Marine Corps anthem as he shuffled his boot in the wetness to spread it thin.

  “What are you doing?” Rainie whispered.

  “They’ll never know,” he assured her with a grin.

  “That isn’t nice,” she said. “Shouldn’t we clean it up?”

  “They’ll mop after closin’. Relax.”

  When they checked out, Rainie’s arms were filled with puppy and Parker’s were filled with several toys, a tiny studded collar and leash, spill-proof dishes, and a fake-fur dog bed. The tab was almost two hundred dollars.

  “I had no idea puppies could be so expensive,” Rainie observed as they returned to the truck.

  “I had no idea they could be so much work. I’m flat tuckered.”

  Rainie grinned. “I wish I’d had my phone with me to take a video of you, chasing Mojo up and down the aisles. And the look on your face when he attacked the Great Dane was priceless.”

  “I figured he was about to be lunch.” He chucked Mojo under the chin. “He’s not afraid of anything. Is he?”

  As Rainie cuddled the puppy close to her chest, she found herself wishing she could be as fearless. Everything was an exciting adventure to Mojo.

  “I’m glad you talked me into coming,” she confessed.

  As dark as burnt umber, Parker’s eyes twinkled over at her. “I’m glad I did, too. It’s been fun.” His mouth twitched at one corner. “But, hey, the day’s not over yet. Next stop is the buildin’-supply place for some steel.”

  “You’re tired. You can do that some other day.”

  “A cup of your coffee will revive me.” He shifted the truck into reverse to back out of the parking spot. “I’ll sleep better tonight knowin’ you’re safe.”

  Seeing where Rainie lived filled Parker with sadness. Though she’d tried to give the place warmth and had done a marvelous job of decorating on what had clearly been a shoestring budget, every room reflected how empty her life was. He saw no photographs of family or friends, no souvenirs from trips that she’d taken, and no keepsakes or heirlooms. It was weird—kind of like a movie set. She’d set a beautiful stage, but there was nothing real about any of it. Until now, Parker hadn’t fully comprehended what it must be like to leave one’s life behind and try to create a new one from scratch. Even his sparsely decorated home had mementos in it to remind him of all the people he loved. He had wedding pictures in almost every room, and candid shots of his family members, their faces aglow with happiness. In his bedroom, he had framed photographs of his mom and dad when they were young, plus images of his siblings at different ages, one of Sammy with a gap-toothed smile being one of his favorites.

  Everything in Rainie’s house was secondhand. Her kitchen towels were faded and limp. The throw pillows in the living room were as worn as the threadbare sofa they adorned. He’d known Rainie was in dire financial straits when he met her, but he’d led such an advantaged lifestyle for so many years that the nuts and bolts of poverty were no longer real to him. It bothered him to think that this lady had to scrub her beautiful face with a hand-me-down washcloth and that even her bedsheets had probably been used by someone else.

  “It isn’t much,” she said, nervously fingering the tiny buttons on her sweater. “I, um, didn’t have much money to spend.”

  “It’s nice.” Parker stopped at a bookcase to touch a gold picture frame that still held a stock photo of a blond little girl in a pink outfit. The picture said it all, namely that this woman was absolutely alone in the world. “Cute kid.”

  Her hazel eyes darted to the picture, and two bright spots of color flagged her cheeks. “I don’t have any pictures of my own, and I just needed the feeling of that. I left sort of suddenly.”
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  “Maybe someday you can go back and get your stuff.”

  The pink drained from her cheeks, and her lips went white. “No, that will never be possible.”

  Parker wanted to tell her she wouldn’t have to go alone, that he’d be there to protect her, but he decided it would be best to let it go. Instead he went to have a look at her bedroom. Again, he was struck by the stage-set feeling that seemed to bounce off the walls of the colorfully embellished room. Someone else’s handmade quilt served as a bedspread; someone else’s crocheted doilies and dresser scarves camouflaged the nicks and gouges on the rickety dresser and bedside tables. Even the clothes hanging in the closet weren’t her own.

  Mojo scampered ahead of Parker to attack the dust ruffle on the bed. Then the puppy turned on the throw rug. Rainie laughed. “I’m glad I don’t have carpets. At least everything on my floors is washable.”

  Parker went to examine her windows. They were old, aluminum-framed, with ineffective latch locks. Seeing them made him cringe. Before he left, he intended to make sure she would at least be safe while she slept.

  He set up shop on Rainie’s back stoop, which earned him several suspicious looks from her elderly neighbor. Parker just smiled and inclined his head when he saw the lace curtains twitching next door. In only minutes, he’d cut and welded bars to fit over the inside frame of one window and was starting on another set.

  “You’re good at this,” Rainie said when she brought him a cup of coffee.

  “Lots of practice.” Parker flipped up his welding goggles to take a sip from the earthenware mug she’d handed him. “I did all the upper bars on my stall gates. It’s really pretty simple stuff.” He angled a warning look at her. “Be sure you don’t watch when the flame is on. Okay? It can damage your eyes without protective lenses.”

  “I won’t,” she assured him. “I was thinking that I might cook dinner. Do you like meat loaf?”

  “I love meat loaf.”

  “Then you’ll stay?”

  He nodded, set the coffee aside, and resumed his task, which sent her scurrying back indoors. When he had the window bars ready to install and reentered the house, the kitchen smelled fabulous. “You never mentioned that you can cook.”