Megan smiled. "And of course he goes to work with Reid every day anyway."
"This is true."
"How's Grammy Claire?"
Sam's smile faltered. "About the same. She has her good days and bad days. Some days she recognizes me, some days she looks at me like she doesn't know who I am."
Megan squeezed her arm. "I'm sorry."
Sam nodded. "We're prepared for it. Physically she's still doing well enough to stay at her home, thanks to Faith, Grammy Claire's best friend, living there with her. I don't know what we'd do without her help. And the nursing staff who come in for regular visits have been lifesavers."
"It also helps that you and Reid are just across the street."
"Yes. We stop by every day and check on her."
"And maybe someday the two of you will have a honeymoon."
"Oh, we don't need that. It was enough that Grammy Claire was able to be at our wedding, and that she had full cognitive function at the time."
Megan saw the tears welling up in her friend's eyes, and knew how much it was hurting her to slowly lose her grandmother to Alzheimer's. "But you two are still newlyweds, so anytime you need my help with anything, all you have to do is ask."
Sam hugged her. "Thank you. I know I can count on you. But speaking of all things love, I haven't seen you dating anyone lately. What's up with that?"
"Oh, well, you know how it is. The bakery keeps me busy."
Sam slid her a look. "And that excuse is getting old. How did things go with that date you had last week?"
"The one with the guy from the newspaper?"
"Yes, that one."
Megan gave her a blank stare. "He was . . . nice."
Sam wrinkled her nose. "Nice? That's it?"
"Yes. That's it."
Sam sighed. "So, in other words, no spark."
"What are we talking about sparking?" Chelsea asked. "Not that I'm eavesdropping, but . . . okay, I'm eavesdropping."
"We're talking about Megan's date the other night."
"Ohh, you had a date?" Chelsea asked, pulling up a spot next to Sam. "Spill the details."
If there was one thing their hot redheaded friend loved, it was gossip. And Megan knew Chelsea had opinions, especially on men and dating. "Unfortunately, nothing to spill. Nice guy. Good job. Great manners over dinner. He was polite, made decent conversation and all, but I felt . . . nothing."
Chelsea's hopeful look disappeared. "Oh. That's unfortunate. As someone who dated more than her share of men in the past--"
"Like the entire male population of Hope," Sam said.
Chelsea shot Sam a look. "Hey. Not the entire population. Maybe half."
Megan laughed.
"Anyway," Chelsea said, "I can attest to the fact that sometimes the chemistry just isn't there, despite how good a man looks on paper."
Megan folded her arms. "Says the woman who landed the hottest bartender in Hope."
Chelsea graced them all with a well-satisfied grin. "I did, didn't I?"
"And she's smug about it, too," Sam said.
"I am, aren't I?"
Megan shook her head. "No cupcakes for you."
"Megan," Chelsea said, looking shocked. "You wouldn't do that."
"A few more bad dates and I might just consider it."
"But you wouldn't deny Sam, who just married the hottest architect in town."
Sam gave Megan an apologetic look and took a sip of her wine.
"Hmm, you have a point, Chelsea. Maybe I'll just keep all the cupcakes for myself."
"Or maybe you should consider dating more," Sam said.
"Okay, there's that. But even Chelsea can attest to the fact that the pickings are slim."
Loretta came over and sat on the edge of the sofa. "What are we picking?"
Sam leaned her head back. "Dates for Megan."
"And I mentioned the prime pickings among men are slim," Megan said.
Loretta nodded her head. "I can see how it would be hard to date in a small town."
"You have a point there," Chelsea said. "However, I think my problem was that I was extremely picky. Now that I've had an opportunity to take a step back and reflect, I can assure you that there are several good-looking and eligible men in Hope."
Megan wasn't buying it. "Name three."
"Jeff Armstrong, Brady Conners, and Deacon Fox."
Leave it to Chelsea to rattle off three names without even hesitating. Jeff was a very attractive doctor, Brady worked at Carter Richards's auto shop, and Deacon owned a construction company. Deacon had also been Loretta's high school boyfriend. She tilted her gaze to Loretta, who seemed to show no emotion when Deacon's name was mentioned. Though she wondered how Loretta felt about Deacon now after all these years.
Sam laughed, then laid her hand on Megan's shoulder. "She's got you there."
"I tried dating Brady," Megan said. "That didn't work out."
Chelsea frowned. "You and Brady dated? When?"
"Okay, so we didn't actually date. We had a couple of fix-ups where we were sort of pushed together."
"Which is not at all like dating," Sam said.
"No it's not, but he never asked me out."
"I haven't seen Brady go out with anyone since . . ." Molly let the sentence trail off.
"Since his brother died," Chelsea said. "Yes, I know. All that hot studliness going to waste. You should go after him, Megan. Are you interested?"
"She's definitely interested," Sam said.
Megan shot Sam a mind-your-own-business look.
"Oh, I see. So it's a lust thing," Chelsea said. "Well, who wouldn't lust after that man? If I wasn't already taken by a hot guy of my own, I'd be all over Brady Conners. Tall, well-muscled, rides a motorcycle, and that man just exudes sex."
Megan looked over at Chelsea, who shrugged.
"What? Just stating the facts. Come on, Megan, surely you agree."
She couldn't deny it. "I do agree. But I don't know. It seems like a waste of my time to chase after a man who isn't interested."
"I've seen him around town," Loretta said. "Chelsea does have a point. He is fine-looking."
"Maybe you're not dangling the right carrot," Chelsea said.
"I don't think many of Hope's citizens would appreciate me showing up at Carter's shop naked."
Sam snickered. Chelsea laughed. Loretta smiled over the rim of her wineglass. Molly and Emma smiled.
"Not exactly what I meant, Megan," Chelsea said. "You have to make yourself irresistible to him."
"I actually ran into him earlier today. Or, rather, he ran into me and my two boxes of cakes. I talked to him about baked goods."
"That would have gotten Reid's attention," Sam said. "Then again, he's a sucker for a good cinnamon roll."
"All men love sweet things," Emma said. "If you know what I mean."
Megan knew what she meant.
"So bring him some baked goods. And while you're at it, flash him some cleavage."
She looked down at her T-shirt and jeans. "Sexy is not my persona, Chelsea. That's more up your alley."
Chelsea grinned. "Ooh, well thank you. But you don't have to change your appearance, Megan. We love you just the way you are. Which, by the way, is absolutely beautiful."
Considering Chelsea was stunning, with her gorgeous red hair and stylish clothes and beautiful smile, Megan took that as a compliment. "Thank you."
"But how does he react around you?" Chelsea asked.
"Like he's interested. And annoyed about it."
"Hmm," Loretta said.
"That's a very good sign," Sam said.
"I agree," Molly said. "Men aren't like women. They keep their emotions close."
"And you know, Loretta," Chelsea said, "there are plenty of eligible men out there for you as well."
Loretta looked none too happy that the conversation had steered over to her.
"Oh. Um, I'm not interested."
"In men?" Chelsea asked.
Loretta laughed. "I like men very m
uch. But after the divorce, I'm concentrating my efforts on the new business here, and on Hazel. I think that's enough for now."
Megan's gaze drifted to where Loretta's nine-year-old daughter, Hazel, was reading on the floor in the corner of the bookstore, completely oblivious to their conversations. She was such a cute kid, with her jeans and her T-shirt and her ponytailed hair pulled through the back of her baseball cap.
"She's so adorable, Loretta," Megan said.
Loretta sighed, then smiled. "Thank you. I think so, too. Should we start?" She held up the book club selection, Shannon Stacey's newest book. Megan was so excited about this one, since Ms. Stacey was one of her favorite authors. She loved everything she wrote.
Megan poured another glass of wine, and Chelsea pulled her aside.
"Seriously, Megan. You have nothing to lose with Brady, and everything to gain. The man sounds interested. So give him a little shove in the right direction."
She shrugged. "I'll try, but I don't know. He doesn't seem to want to be shoved."
Chelsea laughed. "They never do. Then again, men can often surprise us."
If Brady even once asked her out, Megan would be more surprised than anyone. But she had promised to bring him coffee and something from the bakery tomorrow, so she'd start there and see if anything came from it. The man was hot and sexy and worth pursuing, so why not?
She'd give it one shot--and one shot only--and then see what came of it.
Chapter 3
ANOTHER RAINY DAY. Brady cursed the weather, because it would be that much longer before the paint dried on the Buick he'd worked on late last night. It also meant he'd have to leave the bay doors closed today. He stepped into the office and was greeted by Megan Lee, who nearly ran into his chest.
He took in the sight of her. Today she wore her hair in a high ponytail, which accented her cheekbones and her mouth. Her lips were painted some pretty shade of pink.
He tried not to look at her mouth.
"Oh, hi, Brady. We almost ran into each other. Again."
"Morning, Megan. Are you looking for Molly? I think she's in a meeting with Carter."
"Actually, I was looking for you. I promised you coffee and apple strudel."
He remembered that conversation from yesterday. How could he not, considering he thought about Megan all the time? He didn't actually believe she'd show up before six thirty in the morning with a cup of coffee and a box in her hand, though.
"I'd love to stay and talk, but I've got customers, so I have to run. I hope you stop by the shop and let me know what you think."
With a short wave in his direction, she walked off. He stood there, holding the coffee and the box, watching the way her hips moved in those tight jeans she wore.
How could a woman wearing jeans, a pink polo shirt, and canvas tennis shoes look so damn sexy?
Ignoring his wayward thoughts, he took the box into the break room and opened it.
Sure enough, there was an apple strudel. His stomach growled. He popped the lid off the coffee, watching the steam rising from the cup. He inhaled the scent of the fresh roast and took a sip.
Damn good, and a hell of a lot better than the sludge he made from that ancient coffeemaker upstairs in his apartment. He lifted the apple strudel out of the box and took a bite.
It melted in his mouth, the taste of apples and sugar exploding all over his taste buds.
He wanted to savor it, but he devoured the entire thing in a minute. He even licked his fingers and searched the box to see if maybe she'd put two in there.
Sadly, she hadn't, so he finished off his cup of coffee, then dumped the containers in the trash and headed toward his work bay.
On the way, he looked out the window to see that the rain had finally stopped and the sun had emerged. It would help to dry the car he had painted, so he pushed the button to open the bay door, pulling off the tape and paper that covered the unpainted part of the Buick. He headed toward the Dumpster outside to dispose of the trash when he saw something dark scurry behind the Dumpster.
What the hell was that? Probably some kind of rodent.
But he heard whimpering, and rodents didn't whimper.
He bent down to investigate. An animal was wedged in between the Dumpster and the wall of the building. It was too big to be a rabbit or a cat, so it had to be a dog. It wasn't growling, so that was a good sign.
But it was shaking.
"Hey there, buddy," he said, using his calmest voice. "Whatcha doing back there?"
It wouldn't come out and was obviously scared to death. Not surprising, considering it had been thundering during the storm, something that scared a lot of dogs.
"I'm gonna reach back there and pull you out, okay? Don't be afraid. And don't bite me."
He didn't know why he was talking to the animal, but he kept his voice low and easy so the dog wouldn't be afraid of him.
As slowly as possible, he slid his arm toward the shivering dog. Not an easy feat, because there wasn't a lot of space between the wall and the Dumpster, and with the dog wedged back there, he could barely fit his hand. But the tiny being wasn't trying to shy away from him, and he kept talking to him as he got ahold of his fur and managed to pull him out from his hiding spot.
"There you go. Now you're free."
He picked up the dog, who couldn't weigh more than ten pounds. If that much.
Jesus, what a mess. He was wet, covered in mud and filth, and, Christ, did he stink. He couldn't even tell what kind of breed the dog was since he was so muddy. All he knew was it was small. And kind of furry--maybe. And matted. And stinky.
But he was shivering, no doubt cold and scared. Brady pulled the dog against his chest.
"Come on, you wet thing. Let's get you someplace dry."
As he was holding the dog, he realized he didn't have a lot of options other than the supply closet. But it was ventilated, and at least it was warm and dry. He grabbed a few shop towels and spread them on the floor in there, placing the dog on top of the towels. The tiny fur ball turned around several times and curled up in a tight circle, promptly going to sleep.
With a shrug, Brady closed the door, went into the break room to grab a bowl and fill it with water, then opened the door to the supply closet and put the bowl next to the dog. He barely opened his eyes to peer up at Brady, then went back to sleep.
"Traumatic morning, huh, buddy?" Brady asked before shutting the door behind him.
He figured he'd check on the dog in a little while, but for now, he had to get some work done.
After finishing up two vehicles, he checked on the dog, who was still asleep. Some of the mud had dried on him, but damn, that dog was a mess. On his lunch hour, he dashed to the pet store to pick up some dog shampoo and flea dip, along with dog food, a harness, and a leash, though he had no idea why, since the dog probably got loose from someone's yard in the rain and this would all be a waste of money. But whatever, he couldn't have the thing be dirty and hungry. He ran back to the shop and opened the door to the closet. The dog had been asleep, but when he heard Brady, he sat up on his blanket of towels and wagged his tail.
"First things first, Killer. You need a bath."
He scooped up the dog and deposited him in the oversized sink in the garage, rinsed off the caked mud, then lathered the little guy up with shampoo and rinsed it off. After that, he gave the dog a flea dip, though he hadn't seen any fleas when he washed him. But better to err on the safe side. He grabbed clean towels to dry off the dog, only to discover "he" was a "she."
Well, hell.
He picked her up and stared down at her now-exceptionally cute, fluffy face. His parents had only had one dog--Benjie--and they'd gotten him when Brady was a teen, so he hadn't grown up around animals, even though he'd always wanted one when he was little. And he'd always been on the go as an adult, so getting his own dog hadn't been an option for him.
"What's a girl like you doing wandering the alleys and getting all muddy?"
No response, but she did l
ick his nose.
"Yeah, don't get too attached. We're not going to be lifelong friends."
She was damned adorable, with brown-and-white-tipped fur and the cutest ears. He had no idea what breed she was, but she sure was cute. And who would let a dog like her outside without watching her?
He put on her harness and attached the leash. "How about a walk?"
She wagged her tail, but she balked when he started outside the garage bay doors. She'd only walked about two feet when she parked her behind on the asphalt and refused to budge.
Brady looked down at her. "So, we're not leash trained, huh? That's okay. We can work on it."
He realized he was already planning on training her, as if she was his. Which she wasn't. No doubt she'd gotten loose and her family was looking for her.
But what the hell. He had to wait for the primer to dry on the car he'd worked on, so he might as well spend some time leash training her. He let her know who was the boss, and he figured she probably really wanted to pee, so he led her over to the grass. With a great amount of reluctance she cooperated and they ended up on the grass, where she did her business. Then it was time for a return trip, only this time he walked her around toward the front of the building, where he ran into Megan heading down the street.
"Oh my God, Brady, I didn't know you had a dog."
"I don't. She wandered into the shop this morning after the rainstorm. She was a muddy mess, so I cleaned her up and gave her a dry place to sleep."
"Awww." Megan bent down and picked up the dog. "Aren't you just adorable?" She lifted her gaze to Brady. "Do you think she's abandoned?"
He shrugged. "No idea. She wasn't wearing a collar or any form of ID on her, but she probably belongs to someone. Though she was a mess, and it didn't look to me like she was just out in this morning's rain."
Megan wrinkled her nose. "That's sad. And makes me angry. People should take better care of their fur babies."
"Yeah. I'm going to run her by Emma's vet clinic this afternoon to see if she has a microchip identification on her."
"Good idea. If she doesn't, will you keep her?"
"I don't know. I'm not much for taking care of anything."
"Seems to me you've already done a great job of taking care of her. You've given her a bath and a warm place to recover from the storm. Next step is giving her a home with you."