Good Guys Love Dogs

by Inglath Cooper

  “I want my life to be with you. It may not be easy at first, but I’ll find a way to make it work.” He tilted her chin upward. “I called my partners this afternoon and told them I want to sell my interest in the firm. I still have some thinking to do, but I can work out of my office at Oak Hill. I have a few clients I think would be willing to stay on with me. Enough to keep me busy and still allow time for you and Lena and Luke. I might even try my hand at putting away some hay for Matilda.”

  “With the tractor?” she asked, a tearful smile in her voice.

  “Only if you agree to give me driving lessons.”

  “I can do that. For the safety of the community.”

  “Think a city slicker like me could ever get the hang of it?”

  “With a little practice.”

  His eyes grew serious again. “So how about it, Dr. Williams?”

  “Yes,” she said, a smile on her lips. “Yes.”

  They kissed with a hunger last night had only begun to satisfy. Colby again felt that sense of utter completeness she found only in his arms. It still amazed her that she knew with such certainty that this was the man she had been meant to find. The right one. The only one. And she realized then she hadn’t feared marriage all these years. She had feared ending up with the wrong person: someone like Doug who would decide that he didn’t love her as soon as the going got rough. Certainly there would be bumps along the way. Like the not-so-smooth road she and Ian had traveled as parents. Life would deal them a wild card now and then, but with Ian, she knew that he would be right there beside her, handling the bad right along with the good.

  “Hey, Mom, who was that at the—”

  Still wrapped in each other’s arms, Colby and Ian looked up just as Lena stopped in the kitchen doorway and said, “Oh.”

  Remaining in the loose circle of Ian’s embrace, Colby said, “Come here, honey.”

  Lena crossed the room, and Colby took her hand in hers. “Ian just asked me to marry him. What do you think about that?”

  A smile broke across Lena’s face. “Really? Well, yeah, that’s great! But, gee, Mom, you really know how to kill a girl’s love life.”

  Both Colby and Ian broke into laughter. Ian put a hand on Lena’s shoulder and said, “I hope you and I can work on being friends. You and Luke knew each other before we ever decided to get married, so I don’t see why you have to start acting like brother and sister. The four of us will have to sit down and have a serious talk about things. Deal?”

  “That’s cool. But I sure don’t want to think of him as my brother.”

  Colby pulled her daughter close and hugged her, with Ian’s arm still around her. Lena still had pain to deal with. Colby would be there for her in every way she could. This new family they were creating wouldn’t be a family in the traditional sense of the word, but it would be a family, nonetheless, and that filled Colby with a joyful satisfaction.

  “Don’t you think we should go see what Luke thinks about all this?” Colby asked, smiling up at her husband-to-be.

  “I think we’d better. Phoebe might get wind of it, and the rest of the town would find out before he does,” Ian said, chuckling.

  “Let me get dressed first,” Lena said, trotting off for the stairs.

  “Are you sure you feel up to it, honey?” Colby called out.

  Lena popped back around the corner. “My head still hurts, which I deserve. But I’m not about to miss this.” She was off again, only to add from the bottom of the stairs, “Don’t forget the cookies, Mom. Luke likes chocolate chip.”

  “I won’t, honey,” Colby said, smiling. “I won’t.”

  Epilogue

  “Wake up, sleepyhead. Today’s the day.”

  Colby rolled over and stretched alongside her husband, naked beneath the sheet. The bedroom felt cool with the onset of January. Oak Hill was Colby’s dream house, but they still had a lot of work to do, including installing a new furnace. She didn’t mind the cool room with Ian here to keep her warm. She didn’t think she would ever quite get used to waking up next to him. Or to having him wake her in the middle of the night with kisses and loving. Now that she had him, she couldn’t remember how she ever lived without him.

  “What’s today?” she asked, her voice still husky with sleep.

  “The day you get your wedding present.”

  They’d been married three weeks before at the First Baptist Church of Keeling Creek with Luke as best man, Lena as maid of honor and the front pews filled with her parents, Phoebe and Frank, and Mabel, none of whom managed to get through the ceremony with dry eyes. They’d decided to put off their real honeymoon and had gone to Manhattan for a short one right before Christmas, spending a few days at Ian’s apartment—if something that elaborate could be called an apartment—in blissful solitude. He had decided to hang on to the place for a while, since he would occasionally need to stay in the city. When they returned to Keeling Creek, Phoebe planned a party one Saturday afternoon to help move Colby and Lena out to Oak Hill.

  Christmas had been like a fairy tale. They’d gone in search of their own tree and decorated the house with white pine wreaths and candles in the windows. Colby couldn’t have imagined a more fulfilling holiday. They had a full house—Luke and Lena, along with Critter, Petey and Lulu, Smidge and Rebel. Ian even insisted they bring Don Juan home from the clinic. What was one more dog when they already had four, he had asked her on Christmas Eve.

  If possible, Colby’s love for him had taken on new dimensions at that moment.

  After the holidays, she and Ian took on the project of renovating the old place together. And she was enjoying every minute of it.

  She slipped her arms around her husband’s waist now and pressed her cheek to his chest. “So, how much longer do I have to wait?”

  “Just how anxious are you to see it?” he asked, slipping his leg between hers and running his hand up her thigh.

  “Well,” she said, pretending intense concentration while the now-familiar hum began inside her and love for him played through her like the sweetest of songs. “I think we could put it off a bit longer.”

  He grinned. “As much as I would like to take you up on that, I’m going to be in serious trouble if I don’t get you out of this house within the next twenty minutes.”

  Thoroughly intrigued now, Colby gave him a protesting kiss before getting out of bed and heading for the shower. A little while later, she followed him out to the car, begging for at least a hint. He remained stubbornly close-mouthed for the duration of the drive. A mile or so down the road from the house, Ian made a right-hand turn at the edge of a cornfield that was part of Oak Hill property. Since it was on the backside of the farm, Colby rarely drove past it, but she noticed now that a road had been cut through the field and covered with gravel.

  “Did you do this?” she asked, more curious than ever.

  “Maybe,” he said, looking at her with a smile.

  “But what on earth for?”

  “Patience,” he said.

  The road wound on for several hundred yards and then curved to the right. Just around the bend, she saw Lena and Luke. They were both wearing face-splitting smiles, one on each side of a sign that read:

  The Oak Hill Home For Animals

  A Sanctuary for Pets

  Waiting to be Adopted

  Colby stared at it, unable to believe what she had just read. Behind the sign sat a bulldozer with Davis Construction emblazoned on the side.

  Colby’s eyes filled with tears. She turned to look at Ian. “This is. . .you did this for me?”

  He got out and came around to the other side of the car, took her hands and pulled her out. He put his arms around her waist and kissed her forehead. “Just for you,” he said.

  “Oh, Ian.” She hugged him, unable to think of any words eloquent enough to express her feelings.

  But he understood. She saw it in his eyes when she looked up at him. “Did I tell you I love you?”

  Ian glanced at his watch. �
��Not in the past hour or so.”

  “I do,” she said. “I do.”

  He kissed her, the gesture assuring her of his love more than words could. A few moments later, he said, “I wanted to tell you about this sooner, but I had to make sure I could get the building permits and that sort of thing first. It’s been a real challenge making sure those two didn’t spill the beans.”

  She sent a teary glance toward Luke and Lena, still standing by the sign, thoughtfully giving them a moment of privacy.

  “When you two get finished with that,” Luke called out, “we’ve got a building site to show you.”

  Colby looked up at her husband and smiled. “Teenagers. They don’t know a thing about patience, do they?”

  Ian shook his head. “That comes with age.”

  “And a lot of other good things.”

  “And a lot of other good things,” he repeated, a not-so-innocent look in his eyes.

  With their arms around each other, they made their way toward the son and daughter waiting to tell Colby all about her very special wedding gift.

  A Note From the Author

  I’d like to thank you for reading Good Guys Love Dogs. Choice is plentiful these days, and I’m honored to have been on your reading list. You can find excerpts from each of my books at www.inglathcooper.com. I also maintain an active Facebook Page with regular giveaways and lots of posts related to books and dogs, one of the other joys in my life. Come join us at www.facebook.com/inglathcooperbooks!

  An Excerpt from Truths and Roses:

  Prologue

  New Orleans, Louisiana

  The ball flew out of the quarterback’s hands, whistling down the length of the Superdome field like a missile. A missile aimed at Will Kincaid.

  From his spot on the fifteen-yard line, he narrowed his gaze, willing the oncoming ball to land in his waiting hands. Nothing existed except this moment. There were no fans lunging to their feet, no vendors hawking popcorn and Cokes in the stands, no TV cameras zooming in on him. Just the knowledge that within his reach hung the brass ring.

  The moment he’d waited for all his life. The Super Bowl. A single chance in which to make his mark in history. He could taste the victory, feel its reassuring caress through the sweat and grime that covered his face. His. It was his. Before his eyes flashed an image of his father’s face—

  “You’ll make me proud out there, son. Never given me reason to be ashamed yet. I know you won’t start tonight.”

  Winning. Nothing else mattered. Determination roared up from deep inside him. He launched himself at the ball, reaching, reaching….

  It landed solidly in his grasp, and he catapulted forward. A hand grabbed for his shoulder, missed and snatched again. He ran, flat out, every self-doubt that had ever plagued him pushing him down that field. But just as Will’s feet crossed the line, the safety tackled him, taking him down, slamming him into the unforgiving turf. His right knee twisted and took the full impact of his weight.

  The resounding crack echoed in his ears.

  He lay there, not moving while thousands of fans roared their support, hero worship for a young man who, at twenty-nine, had reached the top of the ladder he’d chosen to climb. Nausea rose inside him, swift enough to draw a groan from his midsection. Then the blackness overtook him, and everything else faded against the backdrop of his father’s unreadable frown.

  Chapter One

  Hannah Jacobs had long been aware that most of the people in Lake Perdue considered her a mystery. They thought it odd that a young woman would go months without showing her face at a public function. Odd that she seemed content to work in a small town library week after week, month after month, year after year, when most of her peers had moved away to make their fortunes.

  They didn’t know that the old brick building with its slate roof and musty memories of the flood of ’64 suited her. It no longer mattered that she’d once entertained other dreams. The library had become her solace. Her refuge. Books did not question or judge. They made safe companions.

  As assistant librarian, Jenny Dudley did not share Hannah’s passion, but she went about her work with singular efficiency and enthusiasm. In the past few years, she had become Hannah’s closest friend. But even with Jenny, she avoided talking about anything personal, preferring, instead, to discuss topics associated with the library—which books had received favorable reviews in Publishers Weekly, how many they could order and stay within budget.

  Today, though, their conversation did not run toward anything so dry. Hannah would have given a day’s pay to be arguing the merits of stocking the shelves with extra copies of Faulkner. Avoiding Jenny’s eyes, she reached for the L encyclopedia and shoved the volume into its proper spot.

  “It would do you good to get out for a change, Hannah,” Jenny said. “A parade would be just the thing. You need to start living a little.” At forty-five, Jenny followed her own advice, coming in with a new hairstyle every week. Keep a man guessing, she said, convinced it would eventually help her find the man she’d been searching for in the twenty-odd years since she’d lost her husband.

  “I don’t have time today.”

  “Don’t you ever get tired of the same old routine? You’re here every day except Sunday. And every night you head straight for that old mausoleum you call home. You’re the only person I know whose spice cabinet is alphabetized. Not to mention that you’ve read ninety-five percent of the books in this library. Books and reality are two different things, you know. What you need, Hannah Jacobs, is something to ruffle your feathers a bit.”

  Hannah closed her eyes and rubbed a hand across the back of her neck. She’d heard it before, how the romance of spinsterhood had gone the route of the wooden icebox. “Jenny, don’t start this again—”

  “A young woman like yourself ought to be getting out more.”

  “Jenny.” The word was a warning.

  “And I can’t understand why you insist on playing down your God-given good looks. It’s like you’re trying to hide them or something. Why on earth don’t you—”

  “We’ve been through this before, Jen. Please.”

  Jenny muttered something about the folly of a woman hiding her light under a bushel, then made a mock salute of truce. “All right. But it’s not as if a local hero comes home to roost every day of the week.” With a what’s-this-world-coming-to sigh of exasperation, she urged the metal book cart down the aisle and said, “You really aren’t going?”

  “It’s February,” Hannah said, hoping to divert Jenny’s mission. “How can you have a parade in February?”

  Jenny shrugged. “No one ever complains about having the Christmas parade in cold weather. What’s the difference?”

  A gust of wind caught a limb of the pine tree outside the front window, slapping it against the pane. Hannah flinched, then reached for another book. “Parades are for soldiers coming home, retired war veterans, even Santa Claus. Not football players,” she added with a shake of her head.

  “For goodness’ sake, Hannah, you act like Will Kincaid’s an ax murderer or something. He won the Super Bowl.”

  “And the rest of the town is acting like he’s the messiah.”

  “Oh, that’s hogwash. You know he’s just a local boy made good. What’s wrong with giving him a little pat on the back?”

  “Certainly a contribution to mankind.” Hannah aligned the row of encyclopedias in soldier-like precision, despite the fact that the two-thirty school bus would drop off a dozen or so hands to interpose A with C and P with Z.

  “Come on. Sandy will be here after school to work the front desk. We could slip out for a few minutes—”

  “I have a dental appointment at four.” For all the sorrow in her voice, she could have been announcing her imminent departure for Tahiti.

  The corners of Jenny’s mouth puckered in a frown. “I guess I’ll go by myself, then.”

  Hannah didn’t take the bait. “I’m sure you’ll have plenty of company.”

  “We
ll, then, you might just be sorry,” Jenny said, attempting one last tack. “He’s awfully good-looking, if all those magazine articles are anything to judge from.”

  Smoothing the front of her dress, Hannah grabbed the remaining books from the cart, sending her coworker a look that said it wouldn’t have mattered if he’d been Adonis himself. “I need to run a few errands before my appointment. I’ll see you in the morning, Jenny.”

  Hannah slipped the last three volumes into their appropriate spots, then walked to the front desk. She opened the bottom drawer and pulled out her purse, humming as she went, an apparent portrait of indifference.

  Chapter Two

  The yellow twenty-five-miles-an-hour sign warned would-be speeders of the hairpin curve marking the entrance into the Lake Perdue town limits. Will Kincaid took note of it, then dismissed it much the same as he’d once dismissed his ninth-grade algebra teacher. He knew today the same reckless uncertainty for his future he’d known then.

  Downshifting, he sent the car accelerating into the curve. The new red Ferrari hugged the pavement at well over double the sign’s advised speed. The tires squealed in protest before the car hummed on, fourth gear, back to fifth, leveling off with a purr that was to the auto enthusiast what Rachmaninoff might have been to the New York Philharmonic patron.

  Limits. Life these days revolved around them.

  Will didn’t have time for speed limits today. He was late. Late for this parade his father had planned. He’d wanted nothing more than a few weeks to recover. A few weeks to put body and soul back together again. To forget about football. And Grace. To convince himself he’d done the right thing in walking away from both of them.

  The Super Bowl. The high point of his life. It had shattered not only his knee, but all sense of direction, as well, leaving him with no idea of where to go or what to do.