Lincoln turned to face her, slipping his hands into the pockets of his slacks. He regarded her with a curiosity she’d never seen from him before. There was a furrow to his brow, a frown on his face that told her he was still having a hard time reconciling the person she was now to the one he remembered. Like maybe if he stared hard enough she’d magically turn back into the horrible rendition of Mercedes he remembered.
“I’ve been good. Busy,” he amended. “The firm took a while to get off the ground but we’re in the swing of things now.”
“And your parents?” she asked, feeling like it was at least the polite thing to ask.
Lori, her stepmother, would be proud that she’d remembered her manners. There had been a time when she’d rebelled against everything society dictated she should do. She’d ignored adults when they’d spoken to her, choosing instead to raid their liquor cabinets when they weren’t looking or sleep with their house staff when her family had been invited for dinner. No matter how hard Lori had tried, there had been no taming her. Worse, Mercedes had been horrible to Lori, calling her every name under the sun, even accusing her of being a gold digger regularly.
It was a wonder anyone forgave her.
“They’re good. I’d ask how your dad and Lori are but I just had dinner with them last weekend.”
Lori had failed to mention that during their last phone call, though in her defense, Sadie had begged the woman to stop keeping her up-to-date with the social scene in Boston. She wanted to make a complete break from that life, which was partly why she hadn’t seen Lincoln in years.
That and the fact that she was too embarrassed to face him after the way she’d acted and the things she’d done.
There was also her father, who had told her, none to gently, that her presence was damaging to the family image.
That made it easier to keep her distance.
Maybe it was time to just come clean with how she felt, admit her embarrassment and remorse, lay her cards on the table. She opened her mouth, but before she could utter a word, Cocoa bounded out from the tree line.
Aggie barked in welcome; Gordon’s head perked up as he took off in Cocoa’s direction.
Cocoa was a huge chocolate lab, Newfoundland mix, and a classic middle of the pack kind of girl. She was easy to train and listened well, happy to be lead around and be friends with anything with a pulse.
Sadie looked at Lincoln’s nice dress pants. “You might want to take a step back if you want to save those pants.”
Cocoa came barreling toward them, mud and water flying off her fur as she ran. Lincoln tried to move out of the way; she saw him try to sidestep the situation but he was too slow. The dog, a mass of wet, dirty fur rammed into his legs, excitedly wiggling around his calves.
She had to give him credit—Lincoln took the assault like a champ. Heedless of his clean hands he rubbed Cocoa’s back and scratched behind her ears, Gordon weaseling his way into the mix. Before long, Aggie was standing by, waiting her turn.
Her breath caught when he looked up at her, an unabashed smile on his face.
Something about the pure love of a dog, she found, brought out the best in people. Lincoln had always been one of the good ones. She remembered very clearly a time when, in a fit of immature temper, she’d had sex with one of her brother’s friends. She’d been only thirteen at the time, too young and blinded by emotion to see how far off the rails she was. Even worse, her brother and some of his other friends had walked in on the middle of the action. Looking back, if she’d wanted privacy, she wouldn’t have chosen the pool table of her father’s study to play out that little scene.
Nevertheless, when they’d walked in, Brady’s anger had all been directed right at her and he’d let her have it, calling her every derogatory name under the sun.
Lincoln on the other hand, had gone after the guy she’d been screwing, unleashing a fury unlike anything she’d ever seen from him. Then he’d gone for Brady.
He’d been sixteen and, even though she hadn’t needed or wanted it, her savior.
“Okay, Cocoa,” Lincoln was saying. “Nice to meet you too.”
Cocoa and Gordon set off to sniff each other out, circling and staring each other down.
Sadie looked at Lincoln’s pants and held in a laugh. Cocoa strikes again, she thought.
“Sorry about your pants,” she said as she pointed to his legs, now caked with mud. “If you want to come up to the house, you can get cleaned up. We can figure out what you’re really getting into with training a dog like Gordon.”
He tried to brush his pants but they were kind of a lost cause. Considering the state of his hands, rubbing his pants wasn’t helping the situation.
Sadie called the dogs to follow. Her two trotted after her without a second thought. Gordon just followed the pack. That was a good sign. He’d need a firm hand and a lot of guidance but he wasn’t hopeless.
“How are things going at the office?” she asked as they walked to the house. “Brady seems like he’s having the time of his life. Every time I talk to him he’s wining and dining some new client or jetting off for a meeting.”
Lincoln weaved his way through the yard, following her lead.
“Brady’s the schmoozer.” His lips turned up into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “He’s good at that.”
Last she remembered, Lincoln had been good at it, too. He’d been the guy that could fit in with any group at a party or dinner, making conversation like a pro with anyone about anything.
“We’ve all got our strong suits,” she said vaguely.
He lifted a shoulder. “I suppose. Working with dogs is your strong suit?” he asked. “Living out here?”
It was her turn to shrug. “You know what the best part about dogs is?”
“When they stop eating your house?”
Sadie laughed. “That, too.”
“No, go on,” he said. “What’s the best part about dogs?”
“They don’t care where you’ve been. They don’t care that you make mistakes or color outside the lines. They just want to love you and be loved in return.”
“And you find that people aren’t the same?” he asked.
His blue eyes watched her closely, flashing like jewels in the sun.
“Most people aren’t so forgiving for an ex-con.” It was her turn to send him a half-hearted smile. “Then again, killing someone has made me somewhat notorious, hasn’t it?”
Lincoln hadn’t expected her to just come out with it. They’d tiptoed around each other and fallen back on polite formality, so the casual mention of Sadie’s felony conviction dropped between them like lead. It was true, she was notorious now, especially in the Boston social scene.
She’d been a debutante, had gone to prep school, and had been offered every advantage money could buy. None of that had mattered in the end. None of it saved her from serving a prison sentence.
“I’ve shocked you,” she commented as they reached the house.
It was a cute place—gray shingled siding, with white trim and shutters—it reminded him of her family’s place on Martha’s Vineyard. While that estate was on the beach, this one was nestled up a long driveway and had a barn off to the side. Still, Lincoln was sure it hadn’t come cheap, the sparkling in-ground pool and lush gardens amenities people paid big money for. The biggest difference he noticed between the expensive properties he usually visited and where Sadie lived was the absolute unpretentiousness of it all.
There were sandals thrown haphazardly by the steps of the porch. Overflowing baskets of dog toys and gardening tools littered the yard, making the place looked lived in. Like an actual home.
The one thing he’d always hated about his parents’ house was that it always had to be ready for show. No stray shoes or clothes, no books that didn’t belong. Everything was perfectly arranged by a designer and there was no room for error. He’d moved away from living like that in his own home, making sure that even though his house was decorated professionally, h
e’d still made it a home. It was clear that Mercedes had done the same.
Sadie. Not Mercedes, but Sadie.
The name fit her.
One look when he pulled into the driveway and he could see that she wasn’t the same person. Her hair, something that used to be a salon-perfect blonde was now a natural sandy color. Her eyes, formerly made up with heavy cosmetics at all times, now shone bright and makeup free. There were no designer clothes or flashy jewelry, just simple khaki shorts and a plain T-shirt.
The transformation was startling.
No matter how many times Brady had told him she’d changed, it hadn’t sunk in. He’d had a hard time believing.
Now, as she reached down to grab a garden hose, as if the grime caked on it didn’t bother her at all, he saw with his own eyes.
Mercedes Charles was no more.
The thought was terrifying. He’d been fond of her back then.
“Lincoln?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Yes,” he admitted, answering her previous question. She had shocked him.
“Come on, Cocoa, you filthy mongrel. Let’s get you hosed off.” As she began spraying the dog, she smiled up at him. “Honestly, I’m surprised you came. Even knowing how much you need help with Gordon, I’m surprised you risked it.”
He furrowed his brow. What was that supposed to mean? “Risked what?”
“Oh, come on,” she scoffed. “I know just as well as you I’m persona non grata in Boston. The last thing you need is to have anyone find out you’ve been out to visit me.”
“Your family seems to still be in good graces,” he pointed out. “And they see you fairly often, from what I hear.”
She scoffed. “One, they’re family so it doesn’t count.”
She turned the hose off, stood, and pressed her hands to his chest. Unsure of her movement, her touch, he grabbed those hands, holding them close, as fast as he could. They were wet but warm, soaking through his shirt.
Cocoa shook her body then, spraying them both with water. Sadie pulled a face, her nose crinkling in a completely un-Mercedes display of casualness that made a smile tug at the corner of his lips.
“And two?” he asked, bring the conversation back around, her hands still pressed to his chest.
“And two, you’ve got a business to run with some pretty big clients. Probably unwise to cavort with felons.”
The smile was on her face but not in her eyes.
God, those dark depths held a world of pain. She was trying to hide it behind brazen honesty and bravado but it was there, right in front of him.
“Is that what we’re doing?” he asked. “Cavorting?”
She pulled her hands from his chest.
“You know what I meant.”
“I thought I was here to hire you to help me with Gordon.”
That was the truth, the reason why he’d come. It wouldn’t be the reason he would stay or come back, which he would.
If he’d thought Mercedes was intriguing and tempting, Sadie was in a class all her own. Natural and humble, she piqued more than just his curiosity.
“Well, if you say so, I’m sure that’s all the ladies will say about it tomorrow at Sunday tea.” She wound up the hose as she spoke, cleaning up after Cocoa’s impromptu hose-down, pitching her voice to imitate someone. “I heard Lincoln Greene has been spending time with Mercedes Charles. You know, the one that went to prison.”
“That’s not what people say about you,” he told her.
“Oh, I can just imagine.” Before he could elaborate, she stepped up onto the porch. “Come on inside. We’ll see if we can do something about those pants.” She looked down, this time, her real smile coming back. “If anything at all.”
She set the table with lemonade, Lincoln feeling as if he was in an alternate universe.
He was sitting in Mercedes Charles’s kitchen, wearing shorts that belonged to someone named Lucas, while she served lemonade. Gordon, Aggie, and Cocoa were in the kitchen with them, trapped by a gate at the door. Clearly, Sadie’s dogs were used to the barrier as they barely paid it any attention. Gordon looked at the gate as if it were a challenge.
Lola, the horse dog, had come in with little Huck. They were in the living room, the small dog sleeping nestled in Lola’s dog bed.
If Lincoln had been intrigued by the outside of the house, the inside was even more fascinating. It was an intimate look at how Sadie lived and the things she surrounded herself with. The farmhouse was older than he gave it credit for when he’d seen it outside. The original architecture dated it at least to the nineteen-hundreds, with wide, pine floorboards and big beams that hung low in the kitchen. It was interesting yet unassuming.
It reminded him a little of his own house which boasted original features from the eighteen-hundreds, including a horse alley, which was nearly unheard of in Beacon Hill.
“So, who’s Lucas again?” he asked, picking at the cargo shorts he was wearing.
“He’s a volunteer,” she said for the third time, pouring him some lemonade. “He’s working off some community service hours here. He got hit by Cocoa last week but luckily had a change of clothes. I offered to wash the shorts for him.” She sat down across from him, her long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle. “I can’t wash your pants but I can offer to pay for the dry cleaning.”
“I’ve got it,” he assured her.
“Okay.” She shrugged. “So, what are we going to do with this guy?”
They both looked at Gordon.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Is there a book I should read? Some kind of schedule I should keep?” He looked at her, he was sure confusion written all over his face.
“I’ve got a suggestion. I’m just not sure you’re going to like it.”
“You want me to get rid of him. You don’t think I should have a dog.”
Sadie shook her head. “Not at all. Lincoln, I can tell you care about Gordon. Unless you weren’t able to bond with him, I’d never suggest you get rid of him. What I was going to say was that I’d like to suggest you leave him here for the week.”
Lincoln leaned back in his seat. “With you?”
He had no idea what possessed him to say something so stupid but the look on Sadie’s face made it clear he’d made a misstep. Her face fell, like he’d offended her, which he was sure he had.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” he assured her.
The words fell on deaf ears as she schooled her face, wiping away any trace of emotion.
“I’d like to see how he does with training, more than the basic stuff. I’d like to get him out and exercise him, tire him out and see how it effects his behavior. If I can figure out a little more about how he works, I’ll have a better idea on how you can get him to stop eating your house.”
What she was saying made sense but leaving Gordon for an entire week seemed like a lot. He wasn’t sure what he’d do without Gordon hanging around. They’d become a team in the last few months, walking together, watching television, doing guy stuff. He liked having Gordon to talk to and keep him company. It would be a lonely week.
“I’ve got plenty of stuff here,” she said. “Dog beds and food. If he’s got a special food he’s eating, some dietary restriction, we can hold off until you can get me those.”
He shook his head. “He eats anything. I’m just not sure about leaving him.”
She nodded and called Gordon over. The dog trotted over and placed his head in her lap, letting her stroke his fur. Her fingers were long and looked delicate, the dirt under her fingernails however, reminding him that she still got her hands dirty.
“I understand,” she said, flipping her dark eyes up and searing him with her with gaze.
He wasn’t sure she did understand. He’d put his foot in his mouth and had made it out like he didn’t trust her with Gordon. He did; it was clear she was great with dogs.
Score one for Brady.
How could he explain to her that Gordon was his close
st friend aside from his partners? That when he came home from work at the end of the day, feeling unsatisfied, Gordon made it seem just a little better. Saying that out loud was just a little too pathetic.
“Just a week?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at her, gauging her reaction.
“I think it would be the best way to assess which training techniques effect his behavior and how. From there, we’d try to set you up with a routine that will, hopefully, work for you both, and you’d take him home.”
“Do you think it’ll work?” He shook his head, frustrated with himself for putting up such a stink about it. “You don’t think Gordon’s a lost cause?”
Sadie laughed, leaning down to kiss Gordon’s head. “No,” she said, her voice soft. “We don’t believe in lost causes here.”
If that didn’t say it all, Lincoln didn’t know what would.
She stood and went to the kitchen counter, rummaging around before coming out with a handful of rawhides. She distributed them among the dogs, leading Gordon to a spot in the sun where he promptly laid down and got to work on his new treat.
When she came back she handed him a business card.
NO DOG LEFT BEHIND, it said.
Underneath was a phone number.
“My cell,” she pointed out. “You can always text me for updates. I mean, if you decide to leave him.”
He looked at Gordon again, happily chewing his treat. While it wasn’t ideal for Lincoln, it was probably their best option for now.
“I can come back and get him next Saturday?”
“Lincoln, you can take him home with you.” Sadie shook her head and went back to the kitchen counter. “If you aren’t comfortable with him staying, I can give you some techniques to work on at home.”
“No,” he argued. “I know you’re right and I want what’s best for him.”
“You just don’t want to leave him with me.”
“I just don’t want to leave him. Period.”
“Why don’t we try it for a day or two at first? If he doesn’t do well after you leave, we’ll figure out getting him back to you and get you some stuff to work on at home.”
No Love Left Behind (Boston Billionaire's Club Book 1) Page 3
