Sit...Stay...Beg (The Dogfather Book 1)

  “No.”

  “God, it hurt.” He gave his head a shake, the memory of that pain still vivid. “And that damn dog stayed with me for almost two hours, pressing on the broken bone, which, I later found out, helped set it. I was crying so hard, I couldn’t even call out for help, not that anyone would have heard me.”

  He could still remember the frantic panic, the pain, and the weight of Moses on his leg. “How did they find you?”

  “Only because that fat, slow, old dog walked all the way back to the house and then led my mother to me.”

  “Really?” Her voice rose. “Oh, that’s so sweet.”

  “It was a total Lassie move.”

  “It was,” she agreed. “So, that’s the moment you fell in love with dogs and they became your passion?”

  “Nah. I was born loving dogs. I was probably licked by a dog before I was kissed by my own mother.”

  “Then…that’s when French bulldogs became your favorite breed?”

  He threw her a look. “Honest? They’re slow and chunky and don’t train that easily. You won’t find a lot of French bulldogs wearing service-dog jackets.” He lifted his hand. “Hold up for a sec. Do not put that in print. I don’t want the Legion of French Bulldog Lovers boycotting Waterford.”

  “Is there one of those?”

  “Probably.”

  She dropped back on the seat, studying him. “Well, what’s the point of the story?”

  “Does it have to have a point?” he asked, surprised at the question. “It’s a great story. A memory. A moment from my past. And you can use it in your profile, with, you know, some editing. That I get to see and approve.”

  “But there’s no point to that story.”

  He thought for a moment. “Old, fat, slow dogs have heart, too? No, I’m kidding. That’s off the record. What do I have to do to convince you not to print that?”

  “How about you give me a real glimpse into your past, one with heart and meaning that set you on your journey and inspired you to success and captures who you are as a person who is unlike any other person on earth?”

  He moved into the lane for the exit, slowing the Jeep a little. “You’re going to have to make that up.”

  “I’m not going to make up a story about you!”

  “Sorry, Moses is the best I got. I thought you’d eat that up with a spoon. Start your story with it.” He drew an imaginary headline in the air. “Life-saving act sets Garrett Kilcannon on the road to ownership of a world-class dog training and rescue facility.”

  “Not exactly what I was thinking,” she said with a wry laugh. “So whatever happened to Moses?”

  “He died.”

  “Oh.”

  He glanced at her. “Dogs die, Jessie. It hurts every time, but if they were given a lifetime of love every day they were alive, then…” He lifted a shoulder. “Look, I’m not cavalier about it, believe me. I cry when a dog dies. We have family ceremonies and toast the memory and share what we loved about every dog who ever crosses that bridge. But I’ve been around a hundred dogs in my lifetime, and they do die. But while they’re here, they beat humans by a mile.”

  “You really prefer dogs to humans?”

  He took the exit, rumbling toward the road into town. “Mostly. Except my family.”

  “Okay, so I have to ask. I mean, I know you said not to, but it’s the automatic next question.”

  He didn’t answer, braced for what had to be coming.

  “Haven’t you ever been so in love with a person that they topped any dog you ever had?”

  He stopped at a light and turned to meet her direct gaze. “No.”

  “No, you haven’t, or no, you won’t answer?”

  “Just…no.”

  And from the look on her face when he slammed that door, he hadn’t done anything to stop the questions. She’d keep searching for the key, and he’d keep working to keep the door locked.

  He had to. He’d made a promise, and he wouldn’t break it.

  Of course, he’d made a promise to Jessie, too. He just wished the Moses story would be enough to satisfy her. He should have known better.

  Chapter Ten

  As he stopped the Jeep in the parking lot, Garrett eyed the North Ames Animal Shelter and scratched his jaw, thinking this through. He glanced over his shoulder at Lola, who’d perked up when they slowed and now silently stared out the window.

  “Maybe you two should stay here.”

  “Are you worried about Lola?” Jessie asked.

  He was much more worried about Jessie. “And you. It can be rough in there. They’re good people, mostly. But they handle a lot of animals, many who’ve been abused, and it’s not a cheery place.” It could be heartbreaking, and he didn’t want Jessie’s heart to hurt.

  “I can handle it.”

  Of course she’d say that. “I’m not sure Lola can,” he said, already knowing Jessie’s weakness. “I’ll bring anyone out who might want to see her. And afterwards, we’ll stop at a few dog parks, which are always a good place to find out if a dog is local.”

  “Okay.” She turned and gave Lola a neck scratch. “Can I walk her? On a leash? I’ll stay outside.”

  “Yeah, of course.” He scooped the leash out of the console and climbed out, opening the back cab, but Lola immediately pressed her body against the opposite door. Garrett laughed softly. “I think this is a job for her person.”

  Jessie beamed at that. “Okay, I’ll take care of her.” She reached her hand over the seat to get the leash, but closed her fingers around his hand. “Who exactly are you going to talk to in there, Garrett?”

  “First, the manager. By law, they have to post something inside when an unidentified stray is brought in. So I’d like to know if anyone has responded to that post. Second, I’ll talk to my friend Marie, who called me the day after Lola came in. I think I told you she spotted greatness but was worried about her.”

  “She’d have starved herself to death?”

  At this shelter? “If she stayed alive that long.”

  She drew back, her lip curling. “You go. I’ll guard her with my life.”

  The promise and the sincerity behind it touched him somewhere…well, somewhere that hadn’t been touched by a woman in a long time. Deep in his chest, a little too close to the brick of ice that pumped his blood. “I won’t be long.”

  He left her, heading into the front entrance of a place he loathed to go. Stepping inside, he immediately tensed. This shelter was bare-bones. He’d seen worse, of course, but he never failed to leave some shelters fervently wanting to save more animals, fund more no-kill shelters, and punch the throats of people who didn’t realize or care that animals had souls, too.

  A young woman with earbuds coming out from under blue-tipped blond hair was at the desk, reading her phone. He tapped the window that separated her from the lobby, and she looked up and then leaned forward to slide the smudged glass to the side, the echo of barking dogs spilling out from behind her. “No word from an owner yet, Mr. Kilcannon.”

  He was a little surprised she remembered him, but nodded. “Is a manager here?”

  She gave him a dubious look. “It’s Bud, but he’s in a meeting and will have my ass if I bother him.”

  “How long?”

  She lifted one shoulder and eyebrow in unison, and he knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere with Blue Hair. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  “Can I go back and see Marie? She’s here today.”

  “She’s on yard duty and has at least three unidentified dogs out there, so you can’t go talk to her right now.”

  “’Kay, thanks.” He knew exactly how to find someone on yard duty, so he left, rounding the back of the building while trying to tamp down the fury he felt every time he came to a place like this. Yes, shelters were a necessary evil…but he blamed people, not animals.

  He spotted Marie’s clipped gray hair and thick-rimmed glasses from a distance. She was on one knee in front of a dog, while two others lo
llygagged in the grass.

  Somewhere in her seventies, Marie Boswell was one of the strongest women he’d ever met, and her heart for animals was damn near unparalleled. She spent her retirement years volunteering at every midstate county-run shelter, doing her best to get strays in the hands of good caretakers and lost dogs back to their owners. If she’d lived closer, he’d beg her to work at Waterford, but he suspected she wouldn’t give up her mission of volunteer work and saving dogs. And he loved her for that.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” he called.

  Immediately, she looked across the grass and brightened. “Well, there’s my future husband,” she joked, standing to come to the fence.

  Immediately, the dog she’d been talking to started barking and heading toward Garrett, but slowed and limped on a wrapped leg. Damn it.

  Marie quieted him with a word, a stroke to the head, and one of the endless treats from her pocket, all the while walking slowly to Garrett, keeping pace with the lame dog.

  “How goes the battle, Miz Marie?”

  She laughed and gestured knowingly toward the baggie camo pants she wore every single day. Pants, she’d told him once, that had belonged to her son, who was killed in Iraq more than ten years earlier. “It is a war, Garrett. But I’m taking it one dog at a time. Meet Kiko, my latest project.”

  Garrett eyed the old guy, who finally reached the fence and barked once at him. “What happened to him?”

  “I honestly don’t want to know, but a vet brought him in the other day, and he will heal. Hey, don’t look like that. He’s been adopted already.”

  That made him smile.

  “By me,” she added.

  And that made him laugh. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “I’m keeping him until that leg is a hundred percent, then I’ve already got him lined up with a really nice couple in Asheville. It’s all good.”

  “It is,” he agreed, smiling at her. “You’re an angel of mercy, Miz Marie.”

  “And you are so damn good-looking I could climb this chain link and eat you with a knife and fork.” She shimmied her shoulders. “Yum-mo.”

  He was used to the ribbing from her. Shane gave it right back to Miz Marie, but Garrett just smiled.

  “How’s your family?” she asked.

  “Everybody’s good.”

  “Even the Dogfather?”

  “Dad is running the place and our lives like a pro.”

  She shook her head. “He is a pro. And still too young and handsome to be alone.”

  A fact that all his kids knew but didn’t really want to face. “He’s fine, unless you’re interested.” Which he felt safe saying, because Marie was all talk.

  “Me? I’ve had the great love of my life. Next time, I’m going forty years younger and have the ride of my life.” She inched forward. “Interested?”

  “My father’s had the great love of his life, too,” he said.

  “Too bad, because I met a woman on the Humane Society board, about fifty, maybe fifty-two, rich and widowed and might be looking for a date.”

  A date? “Dad doesn’t date.” Although, maybe he should. “So, what’s the news on Lola’s owner?”

  “Well, yes, that is why I called you and not only to eat you with my eyes.” Eyes that moved past his shoulder and widened. “Is that her? Is that Lola? You got her out?”

  He turned to see Jessie in the parking lot, visible between two buildings. She had Lola on the leash, the first time he’d ever remembered seeing that dog on one. Lola walked tall and proud, her pretty colors gleaming in the sun, with the moves of a dog very much used to being walked on a leash. Preferring it, actually.

  “That’s her.”

  “And who’s the pretty redhead?” she asked. “Never saw her at Waterford.”

  “She’s a…” He hesitated, not sure how to describe Jessie without going into the whole journalism bit. “A friend of our family from years ago. Molly’s childhood friend. She’s staying in Bitter Bark for a while.”

  “She’s good with dogs.”

  “She’s good with Lola,” he said. “They have a mysterious bond, and that dog won’t respond to anyone but her.”

  “I gotta meet this girl. And see Lola,” she added with a grin. “Let me take these guys back in, and I’ll be out front in a jiffy. Don’t come inside. It’ll put you in a bad mood.”

  He appreciated the warning. “And the news you have on Lola’s owner?”

  “I’ll tell you. All in good time.” She waved him off and started herding her dogs toward the door. He walked between the buildings, the cacophony of barking dogs echoing in the little alley as he headed back to Jessie and told her a little bit about Marie before she came out.

  After they greeted each other, Marie got right down on the ground, face-to-face with Lola. “And how nice to see you again, Lola.”

  Lola glanced at Jessie, who encouraged her with a nod. That was all it took for Lola to relax and bend over for a little love from Marie. Only for a second, though, then she backed into Jessie’s legs.

  “I named her, you know,” Marie said, pushing herself up, agile and strong in a way that belied her age.

  “You did?” Jessie asked. “Why Lola?”

  “I’m a child of the sixties, and I had a Kinks album on that morning—and I do mean album, like vinyl, thank you very much. And when I got here, I was still singin’ my favorite tune. L-O-L-A, Lolllla!” She belted out the song, off-key, snapping her fingers and moving side to side. “And this sweet girl was sniffin’ around the front door when I got here. So I named her Lola. L-O-L-A, Lolllla!”

  “I don’t think I know that song,” Jessie admitted. “But the name is perfect.”

  “And so are you.” Marie reached out and stroked Jessie’s hair and patted her cheek, proving she was not one for recognizing personal space or holding back. “Absolutely delicious. What a scrumptious couple you make. You are a couple, right? Oh, you will be. Both of you are too irresistible for words.”

  Jessie laughed, a sweet blush deepening her cheeks.

  “Pay no attention to this woman, Jessie,” Garrett assured her. “She’s obsessed with dogs, food, and love.”

  “Please tell me what else there is in the world to be obsessed about?” Marie countered. “Those three things are the most essential elements of life, if you ask me. Although, that’s probably not what you want to ask me.”

  “About Lola?” Garrett reminded her.

  “Garrett said you might have more information about Lola’s owner,” Jessie added. “We’re anxious to get her to her real home.”

  “We.” Marie’s eyes twinkled. “Like the sound of that.”

  “Marie,” Garrett warned softly.

  “All right, all right. Let an old woman fantasize, please. Yes, someone came asking for her and said he was the one who’d brought her here, but the crackhead at the front desk let him go without contacting me. She got a first name and phone number, which, it will shock no one to learn, is the wrong number. Or at least the man who answered said it was a wrong number when I identified myself as someone with the shelter.” She dug into her pocket. “I have it for you, useless as it may be.”

  “Why would he come in, check on the dog, and give the wrong number?” Jessie asked.

  “People do that,” Garrett said. “They think if they show too much interest in the dog, they’ll be investigated as the owner—which they very well might be. Maybe he had to get rid of the dog for any number of reasons like a move or a new baby or an allergy, and wanted to know if she’s okay. Or maybe he did really find Lola and doesn’t want a dog, but cares about its well-being.”

  “Here.” Marie gave a slip of notebook paper to Garrett. “Do with it what you will. Maybe a call from an owner of Waterford will make him more inclined to honesty, and you can find out more about where Lola comes from.”

  “I’m more convinced than ever that she was loved and trained.”

  Marie nodded thoughtfully. “She certainly seems pretty darn happy with
Jessie here.”

  Jessie ruffled Lola’s fur. “She’s doing better, but if she’s lost from a loving home, then someone else is hurting as much as she is.”

  “Oh.” Marie let out a big sigh and pressed hands to her cheeks. “She was made for you, Garrett. This beautiful girl has the same heart you do.”

  Okay, this was getting a little weird. “Anyway, Miz Marie,” he said pointedly. “Thank you for calling and, well, for everything you do. We’ll try and get in touch with this guy. Is that all? I thought you said you needed to see me about something else, too?”

  Because he could have gotten a name and phone number over the phone and not driven this far.

  “Well, I had another reason, named Winchester,” she said with a guilty laugh. “I knew if you laid eyes on that Rottie, Winnie would be headed home to Waterford. But when I came in this morning, he was happily adopted by an older couple who’d just lost one. I meant to call you, but I forgot. Sorry.”

  “S’okay, your heart’s in the right place,” he assured her with a quick hug and a kiss on her cheek, which she used as an opportunity to hug him hard, long, and squeeze his biceps.

  “And your body is in the right place,” she quipped, leaning all the way back but still holding his arms as she turned to Jessie. “I do envy you, young lady.”

  “Oh…I…don’t…”

  “Well, then, you should. He’s hot.”

  “I’ve noticed,” Jessie said with a wry smile.

  “And you are stunning with those green eyes and that pretty hair.” She narrowed her eyes at Garrett. “And Lola approves. What are you waiting for? Have you asked this girl to dinner yet?”

  Neither one of them answered the blunt question.

  Marie exhaled an exasperated breath that ruffled gray bangs. “How about tonight?”

  He stared at Marie, not sure whether to laugh or shake his head in exasperation.

  “It’s so easy,” Marie said. “You turn to her and say, ‘Jessie, how’d you like to have dinner with me tonight?’”

  He shouldn’t. It was asking for trouble. He should make a joke and leave the old lady. But…