by Mara Wells
“What’re you doing?” She pulled at her hand, but he held on.
“Where better to propose than our dog park? We built Fur Haven together. I want to keep building with you. For the rest of our lives.”
Riley’s eyes widened, her whole body as still as the moment when LouLou spotted a squirrel but seconds before she erupted into a barking and running frenzy. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m on one knee. I am totally serious.”
“No.” She wrestled her hand free. “I mean you can’t be serious, thinking you can waltz into my dog park and propose and everything will be fine.”
“Our dog park.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “I texted. I called. You ghosted me. Ghosted. And now you think I’m going to marry you?”
Caleb’s head dropped. He dug around in his pockets until he pulled out his phone, thumbs dancing on the screen.
Her phone buzzed.
I’m sorry. I love you. Please say you’ll marry me.
“You texted me!” she screeched at him, slapping at his shoulders. “You jerk!” She smacked him again for good measure. “How could you text me like that?”
“Wait, wait. Am I in trouble for texting you or not texting you?” He stumbled to his feet, phone dangling in his hand.
“Yes!”
Their excited voices drew LouLou toward them, and she jumped on Caleb with muddy paws, leaving an abstract pattern of paw prints on his thighs. Caleb scooped up the poodle, cradling her in front of him. “LouLou, I don’t know what to do.”
LouLou licked the underside of his chin sympathetically.
“Don’t talk to my dog.” Riley snatched her poodle out of his arms. “She doesn’t know why you haven’t been around. She doesn’t understand what you’ve done.”
“What did I do?”
Riley held her dog tight. “You broke my heart.”
“No, no, I didn’t. I’m right here.”
“You ghosted me.”
“I am really sorry. I was confused.”
“If I hadn’t talked Grams into giving back the building, would you even be here right now?” Riley’s grip on LouLou loosened, but she wouldn’t give in and reach for him.
“Of course. I hated not talking to you, not being around you.”
She glared at his phone. “It was easy enough to fix.”
“After enough time went by, I thought only an in-person apology would do.”
She sniffed, rubbing her nose in LouLou’s soft fur. “How could you text me that you love me when you’ve never said it? Dropping to one knee when I wasn’t sure if we were even dating? You’re confusing me, Caleb. I don’t know where we are or what we are.”
“I love you.” His words were strong, sure. “I love your kindness and competence, that you can unclog a sink and balance books and that you change your toenail polish every week. I love how you love your grandmother and Mr. Cardoza and Patty. How you fought for your dog park. How you smell after you use the bazillion products in your shower and how you feel so soft and warm when you fall asleep in my arms. I love that you made me understand this neighborhood, that you made me part of it. I love little LouLou, even if I don’t love how early she wants to wake up to go outside. Riley, I love everything about you.”
Riley’s sniff turned into a sob, and she buried her face in LouLou’s curls. “You’re such a jerk.”
“Yeah, I know. But I’m trying to be better.”
Riley bent her knees and released LouLou, then threw her arms around Caleb. “You really are a jerk. Disappearing for almost a week, then texting me that you love me while I’m standing right in front of you.”
“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you sooner. I should’ve trusted you.”
“Yeah, you should have.”
“Do you forgive me? Are you ever going to answer my proposal?”
“Yes.”
He smiled then frowned. “To which question?”
She laughed. “To both!”
He caught her mouth with his in a deep kiss, one Riley felt all the way to her soul.
“It’s about time.” Eliza’s crackly voice broke them apart. “You’ll make Patty a rich woman if you tie the knot before Christmas. She could use the cash. Think on it, you two. Why don’t you?”
Riley looked up to find Eliza and Lady looking on. “Not that stupid bet again!”
“Got your Grams on FaceTime.” Eliza held out her phone. “She wouldn’t put any money in the pot. Bet you’re regretting that now, aren’t you, Glo?”
“I regret nothing. That’s my life motto, you know.” Grams waved at both of them. “You two better come see me right away. We’ve got some planning to do!”
“You’re not mad? He is a Donovan.”
“I don’t suppose anyone is perfect.” Grams flipped her hand. “Except me, of course.”
Caleb squeezed his arms around Riley from behind and spoke over her shoulder. “Thank you. Your approval means a lot.” He swung Riley around in a circle, LouLou chasing her legs.
Grams chuckled. “Get back to kissing. That’s the best part.”
Riley turned in his arms. “Don’t I know it.”
Caleb waited until Eliza and Grams hung up and Eliza settled on a bench a polite distance away. He cupped Riley’s face in his hands. “I love you.”
She smiled up at him. “I love you, too.”
The kiss was the best of her life, so she protested when he pulled away. “What?”
Caleb looked down at his shoes. “She got me again.”
Sure enough, LouLou had draped herself across his loafers, and when he wedged them out from under her, his left shoe was a bit damp.
“Oh my gosh, I’m really sorry.” Riley covered her cheeks with her hands. “I can’t believe she’d do that here at the dog park. She has all this space. I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”
“I’ve been doing some reading about dog behavior.”
“You have?”
“Yep, and I think—no, I hope—she’s marking her territory. I want to belong to you two. I want to be a family, and I want to start right away.”
“It’s a good thing I’m willing to marry you then.”
“Before Christmas.” He smiled and kissed her again. “You know, for Patty’s sake.”
“Well, if it’s for Patty, why not?” She laughed, pulling his face down for another kiss.
“Get a room!” Eliza called from her bench just as a rumble of thunder announced an afternoon storm.
“Good idea!” Caleb reached down to clip the leash onto LouLou’s collar. “Come on, LouLou. Let’s go before we get drenched.”
Hand in hand, one tail-wagging poodle between them, they dashed home, one step ahead of the rain.
Acknowledgments
I am so grateful to all the people in my life who have supported me on this rocky journey, with special thanks to:
My husband, Michael Crumpton, for always believing the luck wave was about to change, and my dad, Herman Geerling, for the pep talks and prayers.
Kaitlyn Ballenger for so generously sharing your expertise, and to Rebecca San Juan and Joyce Sweeney for beta reading some pretty rough pages. To Omar Figueras for your kind explanations about real estate law, with extra props for wading through an early draft with editing pen in hand. Katy Yocom and Jenny Luper, thank you for reading early drafts and sharing your helpful insights.
Laurie Calkhoven, a constant source of inspiration and motivation. Long live the Job Quitters’ Club!
My Spalding University M.F.A. in Writing community, especially Sena Jeta Naslund, Karen Mann, Kathleen Driskell, Gayle Hanratty, Ellyn Lichvar, Jason Hill, Lynnell Edwards, Terry Price, and Nancy Chen Long for keeping the home fires burning. Your work means so much to so many.
My Spalding University M.F.A. in Wr
iting mentors and workshop leaders: Luke Wallin, Joyce MacDonald, Rachel Harper, Robin Lippincott, Lesléa Newman, Beth Bauman, Kenny Cook, and Dianne April—your instruction and encouragement mean more than I can express.
My supportive Broward College colleagues and friends Erin Burns-Davies, Rowena Hernandez-Muzquiz, Jamie Martin, Sandra Stollman, Amanda Thibodeau, and Judi Tidwell; thank you for listening to So. Much. Drama.
Deb Werksman for taking a chance, and to the wonderful team at Sourcebooks, with special thanks to Susie Benton, Rachel Gilmer, Catherine Baccaro, Jessica Smith, Jocelyn Travis, Diane Dannenfeldt, and Sabrina Baskey.
Julie and Shepherd Edelstein and Nicole and Ray Cabrera for sharing your hotelier experiences and expertise. Christopher Leser, thanks for the poker tips! Any mistakes are totally mine.
Kay Rico Coffee in Hollywood, FL, especially owners J.R. and Elizabeth Mendez and their barista sons, Daniel and Timothy Aleman. Could this book have been finished without your dirty chai lattes with oat milk? Debatable. Thank you for the space on your couch and the excellent music selections.
Read on for a sneak peek at book 2 in the Fur Haven Park series by Mara Wells
Tail for Two
Available July 2020 from Sourcebooks Casablanca
Chapter 1
I’ll never swipe right again. Carrie Burns eyed the man waving her over to a small table-for-two wedged between a sickly potted spider plant and the large front window of the newest coffee shop in her neck of Miami Beach. The small neighborhood was, as her ex-husband used to describe it, “just north of the tourist trap” that was South Beach. The space was perhaps too intimate, as evidenced by the number of people Carrie bopped with her oversized shoulder bag when she squeezed by them on her way to lucky date number thirteen.
Not that this was her thirteenth date with him. Oh no. In her limited time in the online dating world, she’d never been on a single second date. But after a dozen first dates, she’d hoped that number thirteen would be the one. Not The One, with wedding bells and coordinated calendars, but at least a second date. So far, though, it wasn’t looking good.
For one, the man, a banker named Daniel Merrifield, was significantly older than his profile picture and dating profile suggested. Late-thirties? Yeah, right. Not that there was anything wrong with aging. She hoped to live to a ripe old age herself, but she was really over older men who only wanted to date younger woman.
And it wasn’t like she was so young herself. With a failed marriage behind her and a toddler waiting for her at home, Carrie often felt older than her actual thirty years. She hadn’t yet found a gray hair amid her brown strands, but with the dual strain of maintaining her business and caring for her active son, she was expecting one any day. She glanced at her phone before sliding into the seat across from Daniel. No panicked messages from the babysitter, a teen girl who lived with her parents in the condo above Carrie’s and who both Carrie and her son, Oliver, adored. No, the only one feeling panic was Carrie.
“Hello, Carrie.” Daniel half-stood then quickly sat again, smoothing a palm down his paisley tie, and handed her a menu. “Order anything you like. My treat.”
Carrie really shouldn’t judge him on so few words. And yet. “I prefer separate checks.”
Daniel frowned, salt and pepper eyebrows slamming together over his prominent nose. “The espresso is quite good.”
“You’ve been here before?” Carrie kept her attention on the menu, scanning the double-sided laminate sheet for her favorite coffees—something with as much sugar as caffeine and preferably topped with about three inches of whipped cream. “Do you live nearby?”
“No, Brickell.” Daniel picked at the corner of the menu, shredding the laminate seal. Another strike, his making things worse for a start-up coffee shop in the ultra-competitive Miami market by defacing their new materials. Of course, the owners could’ve sprung for a more durable menu in anticipation of customers like Daniel, but folks new to owning and operating small businesses weren’t always prepared for the idiosyncrasies of the public.
Carrie resisted the urge to take the menu from him with a gentle reprimand about respecting others’ property, like she would’ve done with her son, and instead listened to Daniel as he gamely pushed forward with their date. “The espressos have good Yelp reviews. That’s what I’ll order, if a waiter ever deigns to give us some attention.”
“The Beach is kind of famous for its poor service.” Carrie forced a laugh. What’s the point of dating if you don’t have a good time? She would have a good time. They would have a good time. She folded her hands on top of her menu and smiled across the table at Daniel’s serious face. “The upside is there’s never a rush. We’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other a bit.”
Daniel checked his watch, a combo time keeper and fitbit-type contraption, clearly not charmed by her smile or her there’s-always-a-silver-lining world view. “I have a meeting in less than an hour.”
“Oh.” Carrie schooled her features. It was four in the afternoon. Even if they only spent twenty minutes together, factoring in travel time, he should’ve counted on at least an hour, if not longer, for their date. What kind of banker had after-hours meetings? The kind who lined up multiple dates on the same night was her bet.
Daniel half stood again, scanning the crowded room until he locked onto a server standing by the cashier. Daniel snapped his fingers and pointed at their table before sliding back into his seat with a disgruntled sigh.
Carrie didn’t like Daniel’s attitude about their server, wherever he or she may be. Carrie’d worked her way through college waiting tables at a diner near her campus. Serving was hard work, work she’d gladly left behind when she graduated, and she found herself bristling at his whole attitude.
In fact, everything about this date was one huge red flag. She should run while she had the chance. Pretend there was a babysitting emergency. Yeah, that’s what she’d do.
“What can I get for you?” Their waiter couldn’t be any older than Oli’s babysitter, a hair shy of sixteen. He was gangly, the kind of tall a man grows into, but he’d need a few more years to look comfortable in his body. A giant Adam’s apple bobbed as he recited some drink specials for the day.
Daniel ordered his espresso, but Carrie was swayed by the list of specials.
“May I hear them again?” She smiled at the waiter, and his cheeks flamed.
Daniel sighed like this whole thing tried his patience, which made Carrie want to ask more questions. But that would merely prolong the date, so she selected a salted caramel latte with extra whipped cream and let the waiter escape.
“What do you do again?” Daniel waved a hand, like the answer was a wisp of smoke he couldn’t quite grasp.
“I own an interior design firm.” She slipped him her brightly-colored business card out of habit. Single-mom, single-proprietor businesses required a lot of hustle.
“Right.” Daniel fluffed a paper napkin on his lap, leaving the card untouched on the table between them. “Decorating.”
“Design.” Carrie knew she shouldn’t be annoyed. She took a calming breath and fingered the single pearl on the white-gold chain around her neck. “I create the feel of a space using color, shape, pattern.”
“Like I said, decorating. I’m sure you’re good at it.” Daniel’s gaze tracked over her face and down into her cleavage. She was always overdressed, but that was her thing. In her line of business, she couldn’t afford to be seen with a hair out of place or an outfit not perfectly coordinated. Clients drew conclusions in a blink of an eye, and Carrie liked to think that the world was full of potential clients.
“Thank you.” Carrie wasn’t sure his comment was a compliment, but she decided to take it as one. It was clearer by the moment that they wouldn’t suit romantically, but if she played nice and made a good impression, maybe he’d remember her name if his bank ever decided to redesign their lobby or up
grade their executive offices.
Their drinks arrived, his a tiny cup he downed like a shot, hers overflowing with whipped cream topped with a caramel drizzle. She took a long, hot sip. Her first true smile of the afternoon overtook her face.
“So what do you think of this place?” Daniel swirled his empty cup. “Design-wise, I mean.”
Carrie took a moment to soak in the atmosphere, to review her initial impressions, to think about the Coffee Pot Spot as a client.
“First, no dying plants.” She used her chin to indicate the failing spider plant behind him. “If you’re going to have plants, they’ve got to be alive and healthy. Anything less is depressing and creates a negative atmosphere. Given they’ve been open less than a month, and that poor spider is already on its last legs, I’d say no live plants for them.”
“Aren’t fake plants tacky?” Daniel clinked his empty espresso cup on its miniature saucer.
“I don’t love fake plants. There are other ways to bring color and life into a room. Some outdoor photography perhaps. I’d have to talk theme with the owner. And also room capacity. Of course, you want to get as many chairs in the room as possible, but not at the expense of safety. Anyone with a bag creates a fire hazard when they set it down.” Carrie swept her arm to indicate the book bags, briefcases, and purses as large as hers blocking the aisles from where they hung on the back of their chairs.
“Why wouldn’t their designer have thought of that?”
“My guess? The owners did the design themselves.” Carrie took a long sip of her drink. Caffeine and sugar, such a heavenly combination. “It’s always tempting for new business owners to try to save money that way.”
“It makes sense.” Daniel nodded like he was a design expert. “Tables, chairs, hang some stuff on the wall. How hard can it be?”
Carrie let out a long, controlled breath. This was part of her job, after all, educating people about why they needed her. “Let me put it to you this way. I’ve lived in homes my entire life. I’m very familiar with what makes a house: walls, roof, foundations, electrical, plumbing. How hard could it be, right?”
