New Leash on Life (The Dogfather Book 2)

by Roxanne St Claire

  Especially Shane, who’d been unexpectedly quiet during the presentation and discussions.

  Stealing a glance at him as she sat down, she still wasn’t able to read his expression. There was a warm glimmer of a tease in eyes that looked more green in this light and the slightest secret smile.

  “The votes have been cast,” Aunt Blanche announced, pointing to a covered box in the middle of the table. “Chloe, since you didn’t vote, will you read them for the record?”

  “Of course.”

  They slid the box toward her end of the table, and she stood, letting out a little exhale of nerves and excitement. “Is there anything formal that has to be done or said?” she asked.

  “Just show us each vote,” Ned said, as if she would stand there and lie to them.

  She didn’t dignify that with a response.

  “Nothing special for an advisory committee,” Blanche assured her. “This is merely step one to see if we will proceed. If this group votes for the idea, then we’ll create a plan to take the concept to the town council. If the vote is against it, we’ll table the discussion and ask that you come up with something different.”

  “Okay.” Except something different wouldn’t work as well. Taking the lid off the box, she leaned over to folded slips of paper, all the same.

  She took out the first one and opened it. “Yes.” She resisted the urge to add a slightly snarky smile as she turned the paper and showed it to Ned. Then she opened another. “Yes.”

  This time she bit her lip to keep from smiling.

  The next one was a “no” and then another “yes.”

  “We are three to one for the yeses,” Blanche said, a bubble of excitement in her voice. “When we reach five for one or the other, there’s no need to continue to count.”

  Chloe gave her aunt a grateful look, touched by the support. “Okay,” she said, opening the next slip of paper. “It’s a no.”

  Three to two.

  And the next one. “Another no.”

  Tied at three all. Chloe exhaled softly, but it sounded loud in the quiet room. She’d really expected more support from this group of professionals.

  Certain they could all hear her heart pound, she reached into the box.

  “Another no,” she said, and it was impossible to hide the disappointment.

  “That’s four no’s,” the undertaker said firmly.

  “One more, and we can be done with this,” Ned added. “I have a deadline to meet for the Banner.” He cleared his throat. “The Bitter Bark Banner.”

  There were two slips of paper left. She opened one, and her heart kicked as she read it. “Yes.”

  Not a single person in the room moved or breathed, the tension palpable in the thick silence of the dead tie of four to four.

  “Okay,” Chloe whispered. “Last one,” she said, closing her fingers around it.

  “Read it,” Nellie insisted, leaning all the way forward.

  She opened it and blinked, stunned. “Abstain.”

  “Abstain?” The echo came from at least five people in the room, two immediately on their feet.

  She turned the paper to show them all. “Abstain.”

  “Who abstained?” Ned Chandler insisted.

  “It’s a secret ballot,” Blanche reminded him.

  “What do we do?” Andi asked, her frustration as evident as everyone else’s.

  “Let’s break for lunch,” Blanche suggested, the idea like a bucket of cold water on them. “We all need a little time to think about this, talk to each other, and come back and revote.”

  What they needed was to know who abstained and why so Chloe could work to change that person’s mind.

  “I think a break is a great idea,” Chloe agreed, hoping it would give her a chance for private conversations. “And I’m available to answer any questions or offer additional information if you need it.”

  “We don’t need it,” Ned grumbled.

  “We need lunch,” Undertaker Mitch said, putting his hand on Ned’s shoulder. “Let’s go get a bite and talk about this. Jeannie, join us, hon.”

  Oh, that wasn’t good.

  “Of course.” She smoothed her hair and looked at Nellie. “Make it a foursome and come with us.”

  No one else was invited to that party as the four of them walked out, leaving Chloe to assume they were the four nays. And unless she tagged along, she wasn’t going to be changing their minds.

  “Blanche, take me to an empty office so I can get some work done,” Dave, the real estate broker, said. “I have more important things to do than chat about this.” As he stood, he looked at Chloe. “If you ever give up marketing, I’ll give you a job.”

  She nodded thanks as he and Blanche walked out, followed by Andi and Jane, who were deep in discussion.

  “And that leaves us,” Shane, who hadn’t moved from his chair, said softly.

  On a sigh, she sat back down and started to drop her chin into her hands, but stopped herself. Instead, she reached into her bag and grabbed the hand sani to squirt it on the palms that shook so many hands today.

  “Well, I never saw that coming,” she mused aloud as she rubbed.

  “I gotta know something, Perfect Chloe.”

  She sliced him with a look. “Don’t push your luck, Counselor.”

  “Aww. The other night it was Dirty Shame.”

  “The other night you were…a guy who fixed broken stuff in the back of the bar.”

  “Do you like me more or less now?”

  “I don’t recall ever saying I liked you at all.”

  He laughed. “But you have to answer my question.”

  She waited, studying him, hating the so completely female response that zinged through her as every hormone in her body perked up the very moment they were alone.

  “What breed?”

  She frowned, not following the question at all.

  “Or is it just a sweet little mutt?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Your dog.”

  “I don’t own a…” Oh, she’d walked right into that one.

  He leaned right in, reminding her very much of a lawyer who’d made his point to the judge and jury. “So you don’t like dogs.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  “You didn’t say anything about your father being Daniel Kilcannon.”

  “I didn’t have to.”

  She launched a brow. “Technicality, Counselor.”

  “Have you ever even owned a dog?” he asked.

  “No.”

  He exhaled slowly and geared up for the next cross-examination, but she cut him off. “I don’t like shrimp, either, but I promoted Louisiana.”

  “Not even shrimp scampi?”

  “I’m not a huge fan of the beach, but that didn’t stop me from increasing tourism in the Bahamas by 38.4 percent in one year.”

  He choked softly. “Who isn’t a fan of the beach?”

  “Too much sand,” she said. “It gets everywhere, and you can’t get it off you.”

  “Plus all those waves that won’t do your bidding,” he joked.

  “And not once in my entire life have I gotten on a pair of skis, but I singlehandedly turned Mount Ward into the ultimate winter-break destination for college students, adding millions to that town’s coffers. I know this will work, Shane.”

  “But dogs are personal.”

  And dogs were not her personal thing and never would be. “I travel too much to have a pet. That doesn’t affect my ability to come up with great ideas—”

  “That I supplied.”

  She gave a dry laugh. “Yes, oh, great and powerful Shane Kilcannon. You inspired me.”

  He got even closer. “I kissed you.”

  “You certainly did.” She inched toward him, just to let him know he didn’t intimidate her. Much. “And I’d rather that didn’t get all over town too fast.”

  He studied her for a minute, amusement in his
eyes. “So letting me take you to lunch would be a conflict of interest.”

  “You’re the lawyer, you tell me.”

  “I’m conflicted and I’m definitely interested, so yes. But I still want to take you to lunch.”

  She held his gaze, feeling the pulse in her neck thrum a steady beat and the palms of her hands dampen and that low burn in her belly that had nothing to do with hunger. At least not for lunch.

  “Depends,” she finally said. “How’d you vote?”

  “I didn’t vote yes.”

  Her jaw unhinged.

  “And I didn’t vote no.”

  Leaning back, she let that sink in. He was the abstaining vote. Why? “Then, by all means, let’s have lunch.”

  He inched closer and ran a light finger over her knuckles. “Is that the only reason?”

  God, no. “I’ll abstain from answering that.”

  He smiled at her. “I like you, Perfect Chloe. Never liked a woman who didn’t like dogs, though.”

  “I guess there’s a first for everything.”

  Chapter Five

  Before they reached the street, Shane’s next great idea had taken hold.

  Turned out, he really was an idea guy. Just how “perfect” was Perfect Chloe? Since he didn’t believe in perfection, he already knew the answer, but messing with her was definitely fun.

  “In here?” Chloe asked as they approached a sandwich shop not far from town hall.

  “Let’s do takeout. We can go across the street.” He gestured toward Bushrod Square. “Sit under the shade of the hickory tree.”

  “Did you know that the whole town was named after the wrong tree?” she asked.

  “I’ve heard the rumor,” he said. “It’s town folklore.”

  “It’s town fact.”

  “Well, there already was a Hickory, North Carolina, so we ended up as Thaddeus Bushrod’s mistake. Be thankful you’re not trying to put Bushrod, North Carolina, on the tourism maps.”

  She laughed, the first time he could remember hearing that pretty sound today. “I might have an easier job getting the name changed. Anyway, I’m not going to sit in the park and eat, so we’ll find a table in here.”

  “Why not? It’s a beautiful day.”

  “I’m in a white suit.”

  “There are clean tables and benches.” At her look, he gave a conciliatory shrug. “Clean enough.”

  “Nothing is,” she muttered as they stepped inside to order.

  “I noticed you’re a bit of a clean and neat freak.”

  “A bit,” she agreed, the understatement obvious in her voice.

  He ordered a sandwich, and she got a salad, but as she turned, the last table was taken by an elderly couple.

  “Come on.” Shane nudged her to the door. “Outside. I’ll clean your bench before you sit on it.”

  But she was already looking around the little restaurant, probably doing a dirt scan for the most spotless table.

  “There isn’t going to be an empty table for a while,” he said.

  “I’m just noticing how dog-friendly this place could be.” Her dark gaze landed on him, those long lashes reaching up to arched brows, a hint of challenge in the look. “My plan would work, you know. You should change your vote.”

  “I might if you eat outside.”

  She huffed out a breath. “Fine.”

  “Question for you,” he said when they stepped out into the sunshine. “Would you eat in a restaurant if a dog was at the next table?”

  “It’s not about me. It’s about the town and the idea and building tourism.”

  True, but something about a non-dog person using the love of dogs to her advantage rubbed him the wrong way.

  Maybe Shane simply never met a challenge he didn’t want to conquer, but why the hell didn’t this woman like dogs? He’d suspected it from the first curled lip and he knew that’s why he’d abstained.

  They crossed the street at the light, and he put his hand on her back, the gesture natural and protective, but he noticed she stiffened as though it were unexpected, too. “You have to practice what you preach.”

  “Why?”

  Was she that clueless? “I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that you have never lived in a small town before.”

  “Then that limb would break,” she said. “I grew up in a town not much different than this one, though not as picturesque and our town coffers were probably in even worse shape. Little Fork, Kentucky, on the other side of those mountains.”

  “Kentucky?” His brows drew. “I don’t hear that in your voice.”

  “Because I’ve traveled. After I graduated from UK, I moved to Miami when I got a job with a marketing firm down there. My first client was a hotel chain, then I landed my first tourism account, for the city of Miami Beach.”

  “A challenge to promote,” he said dryly.

  “I learned so much and discovered I was good at it. I helped get a lot of business for the firm, then I went out on my own when I was twenty-five, which was seven years ago. I spend about three hundred days a year on the road.”

  “Ugh.” The idea was so unappealing he couldn’t put it into words. “Don’t you get homesick?”

  She shrugged. “Not for where I grew up certainly. And ‘home’ is a lovely apartment on Brickell Avenue with a view of the water, but not…” Her voice faded, then she finished with, “It’s more like home base and a place to sleep when I’m not on the road.”

  What kind of life was that for a thirty-two-year-old woman? “Well, have your world travels taught you about local politics?”

  “Enough. Except for one abstained vote, which I fully intend to change”—she elbowed him lightly—“I didn’t do too badly today.”

  That was today. She could win today, but the whole town? Doubtful.

  A few minutes later, they found a bench and picnic table, and he spread one of his extra napkins for her to sit on. She thanked him, brought out her ever-present hand sanitizer again, then carefully took her plastic fork out of a wrapper and opened her salad.

  All the while, he sat across from her, watching. “So are you this particular about everything?” He imagined her folding each piece of clothing as she undressed. Imagined it a lot, to be fair.

  “Pretty much.”

  “Like, do you roll your underwear into perfect cylinders and stack them color-coded in your drawers?”

  She looked up at him. “Didn’t take you long to get to my underwear.”

  “But I’m right.”

  She smiled, which was all he needed to know.

  Just then, an older woman came around the path with a beauty of a golden retriever on a leash.

  Shane looked over Chloe’s shoulder, tracking the dog. “That one’s been well trained,” he noted.

  She turned and glanced at the dog. “How can you tell?”

  “Experience.” He clicked his tongue and snapped his fingers, and the dog slowed its step and turned to Shane. So did his owner, so Shane pushed up.

  “He’s a stunner,” he said to the lady, who beamed with pride, as most dog owners did, especially if they’d taken the time and love to train their doggo. “May I?” Shane asked, already on the way over.

  “Of course.” As expected, the woman and dog came right toward him, and Shane got down and made eye contact.

  “What’s his name?” he asked.

  “Jackson,” she said warmly.

  “Hey, Jackson.” He knew where retrievers liked to be scratched and adjusted his tone to one a dog would recognize as friendly. “Want to meet my friend, Chloe?”

  He turned to catch a flash of disbelief on her face, but she wiped it away quickly, along with her hands on a napkin. “Oh, that’s okay. He’s walking.”

  “Oh, no,” the owner assured them. “Jackson loves to make new friends.” She took a few steps and dropped the leash, which told the dog he was free to approach yet another stranger, and he loped toward the table.

  “Don’t give him any food, though,” the
woman added.

  “I won’t.” Chloe twisted on the bench, discomfort already all over her body language.

  Shane had seen it so many times in new dog owners, usually people who’d been talked into a dog by their kids or a well-meaning spouse, and they were either scared, clueless, or simply intimidated by any dog.

  Jackson went right up to Chloe and sniffed, pressing his snout on her leg and making her jerk away, both hands in the air.

  “He won’t hurt you,” the lady said.

  “I know…it’s just…” She gave a helpless look to Shane, who immediately took control by getting back down with the dog.

  “Here, Jackson. C’mere, boy.” The dog instantly came to him and got some love. “Can you sit?”

  He did, making the owner laugh with more doggie pride. “He knows a lot of commands,” she bragged.

  “Roll over,” Shane ordered, and Jackson immediately lay down, turned over, and offered his belly for a rub. Of course, Shane obliged, talking quietly to the dog. “Give kisses?” he asked, knowing exactly what he’d get.

  The dog got up and leaned in for a big lick of Shane’s face, making the owner coo and Shane laugh and Chloe gape in horror.

  After a minute, he got up and made small talk with the owner, whose name was Betsy, then said goodbye to Jackson before coming back around to his side of the picnic table.

  Without a word, Chloe reached into her bag and pulled out her little bottle of trusty hand sanitizer, handing it to him.

  “Only for you.” He squirted some on his hand. “Nice dog, huh?”

  “Oh yeah.” Zero interest.

  As he suspected, miles from “perfect,” at least in his opinion.

  “So,” he said after a moment. “I’m changing my vote to a no.”

  Her plastic fork froze midbite. “What? Why?”

  “Because you don’t believe in your own idea.”

  She set the fork down and gave a frustrated exhale. “Because I didn’t crawl all over the ground, touch an animal while I’m eating, and let it lick my face with a tongue that might very well have been covered with dog food or…worse?” She shook her head. “For that I lose?”