Mr. Dennison dropped me off at the front door and I opened it as quietly as I could. Antonio had ears like a bat and I didn’t want to wake him if he was already asleep.
I found my brother sprawled on the living room floor watching Hercules. He wore a pair of my old sweats and a Leonard the Lion t-shirt more than a few sizes too small for him. Although he’d outgrown it years ago, he refused to part with the threadbare shirt. It was his favorite, and he was Leonard’s biggest fan. I’d had no luck finding a duplicate in an adult size.
Sitting next to him, I handed him the box of cakes. “I brought you something, Antonio.”
“You always eat yuck,” Antonio said, his words slow and deliberate. “I want chicken nuggets.”
“What did Mrs. Dennison make for you?” I asked.
“Corn dogs and French fries. They were good, but we ran out of ketchup.”
I sighed and resisted rolling my eyes. Our mother had been one of the finest cooks in the world and my brother subsisted on frozen junk food. I was beginning to wonder if I should hire a private chef to tempt him into better eating habits. Antonio could be very stubborn about food.
“Well, I brought home chocolate cake. You can have it for dessert if you promise to eat something healthy for breakfast tomorrow.”
“Mrs. Dennison let me buy French toast sticks at the store today. I ate them for lunch.”
Mr. and Mrs. Dennison were longtime, devoted employees, but Julie Dennison spoiled Antonio like crazy and she wasn’t much of a cook. Giving up, I sat on the floor with Antonio as he opened the box of cakes. Using his fingers, he picked one up and took a huge bite.
His almond shaped eyes opened wide and he stared at the cake in his hand as if it was his new best friend. Chewing slowly, he let out a low moan of pleasure. “Gio, I promise to eat broccoli every day if I can have this for dessert.”
I watched in shock as he set the rest of the cake back in the box and closed it reverently. “I’m going to save the rest to make it last longer.”
“What did it taste like?” I asked, nonplussed by his reaction. Antonio never, ever put something sweet away, and he hated broccoli.
“You didn’t have some?”
“No. I brought them home for you.”
He opened the box again and handed me the one he’d already sampled. “You can have a small bite. But not too big, okay? We have to save them for tomorrow so we can share them again.”
Nodding, I accepted the half-eaten cake and took a tiny nibble. Bittersweet chocolate with the essence of vanilla swirled over my taste buds and I registered the slight sting of cayenne an instant before it was soothed with cream. The cake was densely rich, and sweet enough to balance the bitter chocolate ganache.
I echoed Antonio’s moan and forced myself to put the cake back in the box before I devoured it. As much as I wanted to cram the whole thing in my mouth, I wouldn’t disappoint my brother like that. I bit back a grin, remembering the elderly lady and her cane. I’d have shoved that stick straight up the chef’s ass if he’d even considered taking that cake away from me.
The pastry chef from La Panache wouldn’t be out of work for long. There was just one problem—I didn’t remember her name. I yanked out my phone and called up the restaurant’s website, praying she’d be listed as one of the staff. To my delight, her picture came up along with her name. Carlina Pérez. Unfortunately, I still couldn’t place where I’d heard it.
I turned the phone to Antonio and said, “This is the lady who made them. If I hire her as our chef, do you promise to eat what she cooks, even if it’s vegetables?”
“Cross my heart, Gio. I promise.” He looked down at Carlina’s picture and added, “I like her face. She’s pretty.”
Antonio had never once called any of my dates pretty. I took another look at Carlina, wondering what he saw. She was girl next door cute. Large dark eyes twinkled mischievously under arched brows. Her smile revealed an enticing little gap between her front teeth and a dimple in her right cheek. I closed the browser. It didn’t matter what she looked like. I needed a cook, not a wife.
Chapter Two
Carlina
My phone rang before dawn, pulling me from a restless sleep. I’d been up all night putting my resume together and sending it off to every restaurant in Dutch Village and Temecula. Turning over sleepily, I looked at the number and rolled my eyes. Aubrey Bateman got up way too damned early.
Of course she did have a toddler with Chance, the hot Australian soccer player she married. Kids got up earlier than livestock. I couldn’t help but like her, though. Starting an animal rescue from scratch took lady balls.
We’d met at the local feed store, of all places, and she’d invited me to the grand opening of the Park Street Animal Shelter. The next thing I knew, I was agreeing to foster their large animal rescues until forever homes could be found for them. Funny, I still had all those critters, and I considered her one of my closest friends.
Every animal shelter needs people willing to foster livestock and large animals. Aside from that, I owed her for helping me mitigate the disastrous contract I’d signed with Mark. Although I hadn’t been able to get out of it, she taught me how to make sure he didn’t take advantage of me again. Being relatively innocent to the ways of inveterate douchebags, I hadn’t realized I didn’t have to give him anything that wasn’t specifically in the contract.
Reminding myself to consult her about making sure Mark couldn’t come after me. I tapped to answer and said, “Hey Aubrey, what can I do for you?”
“Good morning, Carli,” she said, her voice entirely too cheerful for the hour. “I have a favor to ask. Can you bring your stock trailer to the rescue?”
“When do you need it?” I asked. “More importantly, for what? We need to talk about this later, but Mark finally let me out of our contract last night. I can’t take any more animals until I find another job.”
“Oh, shit. What happened?”
“Mark threw a plate at me and told me I was fired.”
“Do you have witnesses?” she asked, her voice crisp and businesslike.
“Yes. Everyone in the kitchen saw it.”
“One more question and I’ll take care of it. Did he hit you?”
“No, he missed. I just got a bunch of broken china on my clothes.”
“That’s still attempted assault, Carli. You could press charges.” She let out an irritated sigh. “He’s such a douche. I’m sorry, but I’m glad you don’t work there anymore. La Panache sucks except for your dessert carts. I think I can even get your recipes back. I still have the list you gave me and those are considered intellectual property.”
“They’re student recipes, so I don’t care if he keeps them. As often as he’s used them, I can’t take them to another restaurant anyway.”
“Good point. Your new recipes are a lot better.”
I sat up in bed and pushed my hair out of my eyes. “Let’s get back to the stock trailer. I can’t afford to foster any more animals right now, but you’re welcome to borrow it.”
Aubrey paused a moment and I heard a faint baa in the background. I wasn’t sure if it came from her pet goat, Pixy, or her son, CJ. Sometimes, it was hard to tell.
The last time I went to Park Street Animal Shelter with a stock trailer, I came home with four elderly American bison cows. Their owner had kept them as pets and surrendered them when he moved to Arizona to be closer to his children.
She whispered something that I didn’t quite catch.
“Can you repeat that please? It sounded like you said six ostriches.”
“And a camel,” Aubrey replied. “Plus two potbellied pigs. We don’t have the facilities here to care for them.”
“Holy crap! Where did they come from? I have no idea how to handle ostriches!”
“That old petting zoo on the south edge of town was closed down for neglect. I also have…”
She went silent and I had the sudden feeling I didn’t want to know what she was about to say.
<
br /> “Tell me,” I begged.
“Leonard the Lion.”
“What?” The rooster outside crowed in response to my scream. “You have the Leonard the Lion? What the fuck, Aubrey?”
“Well, one of them, and I just don’t have the heart to… It’s Chance’s favorite show!”
Leonard the Lion was a popular regional kid’s show about a lion who solved mysteries with the help of his zookeeper. I hadn’t thought CJ was old enough for it, but maybe Aubrey had been talking about Chance Senior. I decided I didn’t want to know.
“I cannot take a lion. I’m sorry, but I can’t afford to feed him. I’m not licensed to keep a big cat, I don’t have an enclosure, or any experience—”
“He’s losing his vision, has arthritis, is missing most of his teeth, and they declawed him. He’s mostly just a supersized housecat now, and I just can’t, Carli. I will not call in the vet for an otherwise healthy animal if I have a chance to give him a comfortable life for his golden years. I’ll even make a deal with you. Take Leonard, the pigs, and the camel, and I’ll find someone else for the ostriches.”
My phone beeped with an incoming text and I swiped to bring it up. It was a photo of a very thin male lion with a sparse mane, laying on his side with Pixy curled up between his front legs. Both were passed out asleep. It reminded me of the old biblical story of the lion lying down with the lamb, but with a goat instead. It was too damned cute for words.
“Coño.” I flopped backward on the bed and rubbed my face.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Aubrey gushed. “You won’t regret this and I promise I’ll find a sponsor to help with his food bill. I’ll pick up the cost until then and the shelter vet will cover his care. He’s so sweet and well-behaved. I’d keep him myself, but the neighbors are starting to complain.”
“Great,” I said weakly, scrounging for a pair of jeans that weren’t dirty enough to move under their own power. “I guess I better find something big enough to use as a litter pan, right?”
Did lions use litter pans?
“No need,” she chirped, the glee in her voice making my ears hurt. “Leonard is completely housebroken. I’ve been walking him with Pixy. He also insists on riding shotgun, so you don’t need a crate.”
Lovely. “All right, Miss Fancy Lawyerpants. You get me a permit for a big cat so I don’t get arrested, find Leonard a sponsor to help with the bills—”
“I already have the paperwork. All you need to do is sign it,” Aubrey replied.
Man, she had my number for sure. “Unfortunately, unemployment doesn’t pay the meat bill for a lion, or feed for two pigs—”
“And a camel,” Aubrey added, less than helpfully.
“Can’t forget the camel,” I said drily. “Plus all the other animals I already have. The chickens and goats earn their keep, but the rest are walking poop machines, so I still need to find a job. If you know anyone who’s looking for a chef, please let me know.”
“I’m going to get a sponsor for Leonard, so you don’t have to worry about him. And I think I might know someone who could use a personal chef. If we play our cards right, it might even be the same person.”
“Okay.” I found a shirt that didn’t stink too badly, put my bushy curls into a ponytail, and shoved my feet into worn boots. As long as whoever she found wasn’t Mark, I didn’t care. “I’ll be there in about an hour.”
After taking care of the assorted hangers on and freeloaders waiting impatiently around the feed bins, I hooked the stock trailer to my battered pickup and got on the freeway south into Temecula. Thankfully, traffic wasn’t too heavy and I’d be heading out of town by the time rush hour rolled along. Less traffic was a good thing when hauling livestock. If I had a nickel for every time some idiot slammed on his brakes in front of me or cut me off, I wouldn’t be driving a twenty-year-old Dodge with more dents than a golf ball.
Waving at Aubrey, I backed the trailer into the lot behind the shelter. She carried her son in her arms while Chance Senior held Pixy’s leash. Leaving the diesel running, I got out and went to meet them.
Leaning down, Chance kissed my cheek, surprising me. “What was that for?” I asked.
“For being such an awesome shelter supporter and giving Leonard a home.”
“Your wife is very persuasive. I think she should give me a kiss instead.”
Chance waggled his eyebrows and grinned. “Can I watch?”
Aubrey slapped his arm, rolling her eyes. “Filthy man.”
“What?” he asked, still smiling. “I just asked Carli if I could watch her make friends with Leonard.”
She laughed and took my hand, pulling me along as she speed-walked toward the split-rail holding pens behind the shelter. “I got the birds into an ostrich farm. It isn’t ideal, but they’ll be treated humanely.”
“You can’t exactly make pets out of them, you know,” I replied. Aubrey was my best friend and I loved her, but she didn’t understand the difference between livestock and pet. Case in point, Pixy. She refused to believe that goats weren’t house pets.
“Yeah, I know. It probably is best for them and they’re not exactly friendly,” Aubrey said. One hissed at her as we passed, its beak snapping closed on nothing but air.
I shuddered, thankful I wouldn’t be taking them.
“Okay, this is Camelot,” she said pointing at the dromedary leaning against the fence.
“Camelot? Really?” I asked.
“She tried to name our goat Esmerelda Snowflake at first,” Chance said. “I suggested Camel T—”
Aubrey laid her hands over CJ’s ears. “Chance!”
I turned away before they saw me laughing. Encouraging Aubrey’s husband wasn’t a good idea. “Camelot is just fine.” I choked, trying to stifle my giggles.
“You thought Mutton and Bugger were appropriate names for poor Pixy,” Aubrey said, still glaring at Chance. “You never get to name any of the animals here. Anyway, Cam is pretty old and great with kids. They used him for camel rides, so he shouldn’t give you much trouble.”
“And who is that?” I asked, pointing at the bald face of a weanling colt peering from between the camel’s back legs.
“Camelot’s best friend. I haven’t thought of a name for him, but it’s a two for one deal.”
“Aubrey…”
“It’s just a little pony. He won’t be any trouble. In exchange, I found a place for the pigs while you were driving here. They’re going to another petting zoo in Sacramento.”
I loved Aubrey, but sometimes I wanted to wring her neck. I had facilities for horses, so it wasn’t that bad a deal, and it wasn’t worth the effort to explain the difference between a horse and a pony to her. “All right. One camel, one…”
I ducked through the fence, slowly making my way to the colt. Letting out a sigh, I shook my head. “One Shire colt who is definitely not a pony, and one lion. Have you scheduled the vet to have the colt gelded?”
“Um…” She glanced back, then at Chance. He grinned at me over the top of her head.
“Say it out loud, Aubrey.”
“One camel, one tiny little pony, and one lion. That’s all, I promise.”
“Okay. Schedule the vet as soon as possible, please. I want to get the colt taken care of.”
“All right. We also found you a sponsor, but he’ll only do it if you work for him and his brother as a personal chef. He’ll meet you at your farm in about an hour.”
“Who is it?” I couldn’t afford to be choosy, but there were a couple of people in town I wouldn’t enjoy working for.
“Giorgio Acardi.” Biting her lip, she squeezed my shoulder. “I promise he’s not as bad as the tabloids say and you’ll love his brother, Antonio.”
Nice. As entertaining as he was, Giorgio had been trying to buy my property for months and didn’t like taking no for an answer. Did I really want to work for him?
“He’s a decent guy. I’ve been to his parties,” Chance said. “The police only got called a few t
imes.”
Damn it.
I sighed and wished for a large coffee and some aspirin, then loaded up Camelot and his Shire buddy, thankful Aubrey didn’t try to help. I wouldn’t put it past her to sneak something else on the trailer while my back was turned.
Although I didn’t have much experience with camels, Camelot was easygoing and didn’t fuss as long as the colt was around. Leaning on the trailer gate, I gave the colt a second look. People were using draft breeds for riding horses these days. If I could find a saddle to fit him, he might be able to go to another home, or even into an equine therapy program, depending on his temperament.
As I waited for Aubrey to return with the permit paperwork, Chance walked toward me with a pink leash in one hand. Leonard tottered at his side, his steps slow and deliberate. His large head swung around and he bumped into Chance several times. Visible ribs showed through his tattered coat and he looked worn to the bone.
When Aubrey returned carrying a file folder, I said, “I thought you said he was healthy.”
“He is,” she insisted, handing me the permit paperwork. “The vet said he’s malnourished, but should be fine with regular meals. He just needs some groceries and a good brushing.”
Chance handed me the leash, a sad expression on his face. He didn’t believe Aubrey any more than I did, but neither of us said a word when Leonard flopped to the ground and laid his head on my boots. Sighing heavily, I read over the documents before signing them. I didn’t have the strength to listen to another of Aubrey’s lectures about not reading contracts.
“I’ll get a piece of plywood to make a ramp. He can’t jump into a pickup,” Chance said.
I handed the folder back to Aubrey and my cold little heart melted when I crouched down to scratch behind Leonard’s furry ears. He chuffed a few times, then licked my hand, his rough tongue rasping against my skin like sandpaper.
Chance stood on the other side of the ramp while Leonard picked his way up into my truck and settled his hindquarters on the floorboards while the rest of him took up most of the bench seat. I couldn’t help thinking he probably wouldn’t live long enough to bother with a sponsor and it made me sad.
Sexy Scoundrel: A Cocky Hero Club Novel Page 2
