Cupid to the Rescue: A Tail-Wagging Valentine's Day Anthology

by Lisa Mondello

  Funny song, she thought as she flicked on a lamp in the apartment’s main room and sank into the easy chair she’d bought at the Goodwill Store in town. Funny day. Funny evening.

  Hank.

  He wasn’t ha-ha funny, but…there was something about him. Something a little diffident, a little uncertain. Something a whole hell of a lot sexy.

  She shouldn’t have rubbed his neck. She shouldn’t have looked at him the way she had, and let him look at her, his gaze so steady and steamy she’d felt as if her organs were melting. Her brain obviously had melted. She usually wasn’t susceptible to men—especially not clients. She would have to watch her step around him.

  But she probably wouldn’t see him again after tonight, until his mother got home from her cruise in a week and Abbie presented him with a bill and the key to his mother’s house.

  She wouldn’t have a lot of time to turn Priscilla into a calmer, better behaved dog. Priscilla wasn’t bad—Abbie was of the opinion that there was no such thing as a bad dog—but she was undisciplined. Yorkies and spitzes were both rambunctious breeds. They needed firm guidance. She could give Priscilla that, but could she do it in a week?

  Besides, you couldn’t really train a dog without training the dog’s human. Priscilla’s human was on a cruise. Abbie supposed she could give Hank some pointers, but he didn’t seem interested in learning how to control Priscilla. He didn’t seem interested in Priscilla at all.

  She really ought to stop thinking about him as anything but the guy who would sign her check. A man who wasn’t interested in dogs? Definitely not her type, no matter how sexy he was.

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  As promised, she arrived at the house at six-thirty the next morning. Most of her clients lived with their pets and were able to let them outside first thing in the morning. That wasn’t the case with Priscilla. The poor dog was all by herself in that big house while Hank’s mother was on vacation. No wonder she craved attention. She was lonely. And who knew what her early life was like? She was a rescue dog, after all.

  Abbie had a group of four dogs, all living within a two block radius, whom she walked mid-morning and again in the early afternoon. She’d be able to squeeze Priscilla in between her morning and afternoon walks, and then swing by around dinnertime for a third outing with Priscilla. Her last stop at Hank’s mother’s house would be at about nine o’clock, for the pooch’s final pee of the day.

  It was a lot of Priscilla time, but Hank had willingly agreed to pay Abbie a small fortune for her service. Before she’d met him at his mother’s house last night, she’d checked with Nick Fiore, who had vouched for Hank. “He won’t burn you,” Nick had promised. “He’s as good as his word.”

  Yesterday’s light snow had ended overnight. The ground was coated with a thin layer of white which would probably vanish once the sun rose. Welcome to February in Massachusetts, Abbie thought. She’d grown up in Southern California and spent summers with her grandparents in Hawaii, but she’d lived in the northeast long enough to have grown accustomed to the changing seasons. Eric always used to quote Mark Twain: “If you don’t like the weather in New England now, just wait a few minutes.” Twain might have written fiction, but as far as Abbie could tell, that statement was factual.

  At six-thirty a.m., the sun had not yet risen. A few lingering stars glittered in the western sky, and the eastern horizon presented a strip of pink as dawn inched up over the ocean. In the early morning gloom, Abbie spotted a light glowing through the curtained windows as she parked her battered van in front of the Patterson house. Had Hank left a light on overnight? She’d noticed a couple of night-lights, one in the den where Priscilla slept and one in the kitchen, but this light was too bright to be a night-light.

  She walked to the front porch, then hesitated. If someone was inside the house, should she go in? Was it safe?

  If she didn’t go in, what would happen to Priscilla? At best, the dog would use the floor as a bathroom. At worst… Abbie didn’t want to think about it.

  But she’d agreed to take care of Priscilla. She had a key. This was a job.

  She took her own key ring and wedged the keys between her fingers, an approximation of brass knuckles which she’d learned in a self-defense class back in college. Then she slid the key Hank had given her into the doorknob, opened the door, and stepped into the foyer.

  “Abbie? Is that you?” Hank’s voice reached her from the kitchen at the rear of the house.

  She let out her breath and relaxed her fist around her keys. “Hank? What the hell are you doing here?”

  He appeared at the end of the hall, his hair slightly mussed and his torso enclosed in a fleece jacket. His long legs were clad in denim, and he looked much more approachable than he had last night in his business attire. Who wore suits for work anymore? Presidents and ambassadors, maybe—and Hank.

  Not today, though. Today he was dressed like a dog walker.

  He gave her a sheepish smile. “I was concerned.”

  “Worried that I wouldn’t come?” She strode down the hall toward the kitchen. “You hired me. I’m here. I almost didn’t come inside, though, when I saw the light on. I thought maybe there was a burglar in the house.”

  “Burglars work in the dark,” he told her.

  “You’re an expert on burglars?”

  He considered her question, then shrugged. “I’ve seen movies. They usually leave the lights off and rely on flashlights.”

  As she entered the kitchen, Priscilla launched herself at Abbie, slamming into her ankles. “No,” Abbie said firmly, bending over and pushing Abbie back. “No. No jumping.”

  Priscilla peered up, her tongue lolling out of her mouth. She was evidently contemplating whether to test Abbie’s authority.

  “No,” Abbie said again. “No jumping.”

  Priscilla nudged Abbie’s ankles with her head. Abbie gently nudged her back. “No.”

  Priscilla mulled this over, then barked loudly, multiple times. But she stopped jumping.

  “Okay,” Abbie said. She pulled a Trainee-Tasty out of her pocket, showed it to Priscilla, and led her to the mud room and out into the back yard. Priscilla followed eagerly, then snapped the treat from Abbie’s fingers before bounding across the patio and relieving herself.

  Her gaze riveted to the dog, Abbie sensed Hank moving close behind her. He, too, was watching Priscilla as she pranced around the yard, enjoying her freedom. “I heard from my mother,” he said. “She sent me an email saying she hoped I was taking good care of Priscilla. I figured if I texted her a photo of the dog, she’d put the dog out of her mind and enjoy her trip.”

  “And you’d feel less guilty about not taking good care of Priscilla yourself,” Abbie teased. “Don’t worry. By hiring me, you’re taking excellent care of her.”

  He smiled. “I like the way you think.”

  She refused to take his comment personally. Surely he hadn’t intended it as anything beyond the context of the dog. “Did you get a picture for your mother?” she asked. “Because you’re paying me to be here. You don’t have to be here yourself.”

  “I want to observe how you get Priscilla to stop jumping,” he said. “If you don’t object, of course.”

  How could she possibly object? He was the boss. If he wanted to spend time with the dog he was paying her to care for, that was his right.

  Besides…well, how could she object to having him around?

  She reminded herself that she mustn’t take his company personally, either. Just because he was drop-dead gorgeous and sweet enough to rise before dawn in order to snap a photo that would reassure his mother her dog was fine, just because rubbing the back of his neck yesterday had felt far too good, didn’t mean there was anything going on between him and Abbie, other than her working for him.

  She plucked Priscilla’s leash from its hook. Standing on the patio, she waved the leash. Priscilla came running, nearly knocking Abbie over in her enthusiasm.

  Abbie clipped the leash onto Priscilla�
��s collar. “I see she likes taking walks.”

  Hank joined her on the patio, closing the door behind them. “I guess she does.”

  Traces of pink and gold light filtered into the sky as dawn broke over the Massachusetts coastline. Abbie, Hank, and Priscilla circled around the house to the front, then headed down the sidewalk in the direction of the beach, Priscilla straining and tugging at the leash, trying to race ahead. After a few steps, Abbie halted and tugged back, shortening the leash and refusing to move until Priscilla reluctantly walked back to her. Once she did, Abbie cooed, “Good girl!” and fed her a Trainee-Tasty. Priscilla gobbled it up.

  Hank observed Abbie’s strategy, apparently intrigued.

  Once Priscilla was done devouring her treat, they resumed their stroll—for another ten steps. Then Priscilla spotted a squirrel and sprang toward it, jerking Abbie’s arm. Abbie stopped, tugged on the leash, and waited for Priscilla to return. Priscilla barked at the squirrel, which had scampered up a tree. Abbie gave the leash a gentle pull. Priscilla seemed torn—the squirrel or another Trainee-Tasty? She opted for the Trainee-Tasty and scurried back to Abbie, who gave her her reward and murmured, “Good girl!”

  “So that’s how you get her to…what’s it called?”

  “Heel,” Abbie said. “It doesn’t always work. If you’re trying to train a big dog, the dog can wrench your arm right out of its socket. But a little dog like Priscilla can’t do much damage. Of course, it’s better to do this training when the dog is younger. And better to do it with the dog’s usual caretaker. Priscilla should be learning how to heel with your mother, not with me.”

  They continued down the sidewalk. Light filled a few windows as residents stirred to life. Two teenage boys strode down the opposite side of the street, bulky backpacks slung over their shoulders. High school kids on their way to the bus stop, Abbie assumed.

  Up ahead, the sky gradually brightened. Priscilla yanked on the leash again, Abbie halted, and Priscilla raced right back and gazed up at Abbie, no doubt eager for praise and another Trainee-Tasty. Abbie obliged.

  All the while, she felt Hank’s nearness. Despite fact that it was February and the ground was coated with a residue of yesterday’s snowfall, she felt warm. Warm from the rising sun, warm from the milder air. Warm from Hank’s nearness. He observed her, his expression attentive, as if what she was doing with Priscilla was the most fascinating thing in the world. The breeze rising off the ocean tousled his hair, making Abbie’s fingers itch to touch it, to smooth it out—or perhaps to tousle it even more.

  She shouldn’t be curious about him, but she was. She disguised her curiosity by asking about his mother, instead. “Does your mother go on a lot of cruises?”

  He smiled and shook his head. “This is her very first. My sister booked it for her. It’s a cruise for singles.”

  “You mean, like, for people to hook up?” Abbie didn’t bother to hide her surprise. She simply couldn’t imagine that a hot-to-trot swinger could be the mother of someone like Hank.

  “Older singles. My dad died a little over a year ago, and my sister thought it was time for Mom to start socializing again.”

  “You didn’t agree?”

  “I didn’t disagree. Lillian is probably right. Until this cruise, my mother was doing most of her socializing with Priscilla.”

  Abbie could hear the hint of distaste in his tone. “You really don’t like this dog, do you.”

  “The first time we met, she sank her teeth into my foot.”

  “Why? Were you trying to kick her?”

  Fortunately, Hank heard the teasing in Abbie’s tone. He laughed. “I wish I had been. I might have drawn blood before she did.”

  “Do you not like dogs in general?” Abbie asked, wishing she could ignore the tremor of anxiety rippling through her. If Hank said he didn’t like dogs…it wouldn’t matter how attractive he was, how sexy his windblown hair looked, how much she’d enjoyed rubbing his neck. She could never like someone who didn’t like dogs.

  “I don’t like little, neurotic dogs with bows in their hair.”

  Not the answer she’d hoped for. She decided to shrug off her disappointment with a joke. “I think you’re jealous because your mother loves Priscilla more than she loves you.”

  He grinned and nodded. “That must be it. Sibling rivalry. Mom never fed Lillian and me fancy gourmet food when we were growing up. And who knows? Maybe Priscilla hates me because she thinks Mom loves me more. If you can explain to her that she’s the alpha dog in the family, she might stop acting so obnoxious around me.”

  “She’s not obnoxious,” Abbie argued. She always sensed that dogs knew when you were talking about them, and she didn’t want Priscilla to think Hank hated her, even if he did. “She needs a little training, but she’s a good girl. Aren’t you, Priscilla?”

  Stopping to sniff a fire hydrant, Priscilla ignored Abbie.

  “Your mother should be the alpha dog in her relationship with Priscilla,” Abbie continued. “She needs to train Priscilla to pay attention to her. If she can do that, then she can train Priscilla to pay attention to others.”

  “Priscilla pays attention to the squirrels,” Hank said as Priscilla snapped the leash taut, lunging futilely at a squirrel that scampered past the hydrant and disappeared up a tree.

  Abbie halted again, waiting for Priscilla to stop yanking the leash and return to her side. Once Priscilla did, she got another Trainee-Tasty.

  “Nick Fiore told me you want to teach dog obedience classes at the Community Center,” Hank said.

  She sighed. “Unfortunately, they won’t let me use a room there. The center has a no-animals policy.”

  “So find another place,” Hank said. “Brogan’s Point is a big town. I’m sure you could find a good location.”

  “Not one I can afford.”

  “You could take out a loan,” he suggested.

  “Not one I could afford,” she repeated, then laughed sadly. Surrounded by the large, elegant houses in this neighborhood, she felt her lack of funds even more keenly.

  “Then line up some investors. Maybe I could line them up for you.”

  She gave him a sharp look. How could he do that? And why would he?

  He answered her unvoiced questions. “I’m a partner in a venture capital firm. New Horizons. We specialize in start-up tech firms. But what the hell—a dog obedience school? Small investment, low risk. Maybe some of our investors would get a kick out of a project like that.”

  “That sounds like a loan,” she said. “Once I calculate the interest—”

  “A firm like New Horizons would structure things differently. We’d front you some money and you’d pay us back after your business took off. Or you’d give us shares in the business, part ownership. You’d need to provide a business plan so we could see where the money was going.” He flashed a gorgeous, dimpled smile her way. “Investing in a dog obedience school—that’s something we’ve never done before.”

  She supposed he wouldn’t even consider such an investment if he didn’t at least like dogs. As long as he liked dogs, she could like him. More than like him, if she let herself.

  She gave her head a subtle shake, reminding herself that he was talking shop. This had nothing to do with his liking dogs, or with Abbie liking him. It wasn’t personal. His venture capital company invested in businesses in order to earn profits.

  She needed to think like a professional, not like a woman walking down a snow-lined street with a man her friend had accurately described as really hot. “How detailed a business plan?” she asked.

  “Whether you’d be hiring staff, how much space you’d need, what sort of classes you’d offer, what equipment you’d have to buy. I could work with you on it. We could figure out your start-up budget and work from there.”

  Could she work with him? Could she collaborate with him on a business plan without letting her attraction to him get in the way?

  Daylight spread across the sky. She stared at him, finally able to se
e him clearly in the brighter morning light. She sensed no mocking in his expression, just exuberance and something else, some unnamed energy. An intensity in his dark eyes.

  Deep inside her mind, a song echoed—banging drums, rowdy singing. Taking care of business…

  She’d dreamed of having her own business—a real business, not just freelance dog-walking and occasional tutorials with clients—for a lot longer than she’d dreamed about Hank Patterson. Not that she dreamed about him, anyway. He was just a really hot guy.

  If she’d wanted romance, she could have booked herself on a singles cruise like Hank’s mother. What she wanted was to work with dogs, to make a decent living, to move to a bigger home where she could have a dog of her own, and to show her parents that they were wrong about her.

  What she wanted was to take care of business.

  Taking Care of Business: Chapter 5

  “A dog obedience school?” Jeff Maklis sputtered before convulsing in laughter.

  Hank remained standing, because standing gave him a few inches on Jeff, one of the senior partners at New Horizons. The firm occupied a suite in a downtown Boston office tower—private offices for the partners, a conference room, a break room, and a large work space divided into cubicles where the analysts labored. Since making partner, Hank had been given his own office—the smallest private office in the suite. Jeff’s office was easily twice the size.

  Office size notwithstanding, the firm had an easy, relaxed atmosphere. Workers didn’t stand on ceremony or bow to hierarchy. Jeff’s office door was always open, and he always welcomed Hank over the threshold, because Hank more than earned his keep.

  One of the first projects Hank had spearheaded, shortly after he’d joined New Horizons following a few stultifying years at a staid investment firm, had been funding for the software start-up Will Naukonen had founded with several classmates. Will was a Brogan’s Point native; his mother owned the Faulk Street Tavern, with its cheap drinks, cozy atmosphere, and funky jukebox. When Will’s company was acquired by a Seattle-based tech behemoth a few years later, New Horizons saw a huge return on its investment.