Barking Up the Wrong Tree

by Jenn McKinlay

  “Just look at the pecs on our teacher,” Aunt Charlotte said. Her wavy curls boasted streaks of purple, which Carly thought looked quite lovely amidst the silver. “His name is James Sinclair and he’s a physical therapist. He offers free classes to seniors to help keep us limber.” She leaned close and whispered so only Carly and Mac could hear her. “Honestly, he can limber me up anytime.”

  “Aunt Charlotte!” Mac cried.

  “What? I’m old, not dead.”

  “And what did you do to your hair?” Mac cried. “I was gone three days! How am I going to explain this to Dad?”

  “Why would you?” Aunt Sarah said. “It’s not like you dyed our hair. It’s none of his business; besides, I’ve always wanted to play with the color and I think the red streaks are sexy, don’t you, James?”

  “Most definitely, Miss Sarah,” James called over his shoulder. His voice was low and deep. “I’ve always been partial to red.”

  He didn’t turn around to look at them as he was helping Mrs. Tillman with the grip on her hand weights.

  “See?” Sarah said. “Sexy. I’m going to look so badass on my motorcycle.”

  “Your what?!” Mac cried.

  “Hogs, bikes, crotch rockets, get with the lingo, kid,” Charlotte chimed in. “After this class, we’re going to buy a couple.”

  “Over my dead body!” Mac said.

  She smacked her forehead with her hand and Carly had to look away so that she didn’t laugh out loud. The aunts had been putting Mac through her paces since they decided at seventy-three that they were going to get cracking on their bucket list before it was too late.

  Carly glanced over at this James guy to see how he was handling the interruption of his class. He seemed singularly Zen about it. Then he turned slightly and she caught sight of his profile. Wow, just wow. He was not just a stud from the back; his front was looking pretty promising as well. Her dormant sex drive rose to life like a sleeping dragon being poked by a sword-wielding knight. Huzzah!

  She glanced down at her baggy sweatshirt and jeans, remembered the do-rag she had tied on her head—oh, and she had no makeup on. Darn it! Who’d have thought she’d meet a man worthy of some effort in the first five minutes she was back in town?

  She watched James as he moved to help the Bluff Point postmaster, Mr. Petrovski, who in contrast to him resembled a scrawny plucked chicken, with his reverse-fly posture. Carly had to agree with Aunt Charlotte. James’s pecs were drool-worthy, as were his muscle-hardened calves, tight behind, and broad shoulders, not to mention his heroically handsome face, which sported the faintest amount of dark scruff and matched his unruly thick black hair, giving him overall the look of a very naughty pirate.

  Carly felt herself break into a light sweat despite the cool breeze. She wondered if she jumped into the class if he’d demonstrate the proper reverse-fly technique to her or, you know, just let her lick his neck and bite his shoulders for a little while.

  As if sensing her stare, he turned his head and met her gaze. His blue gray eyes widened at the sight of her. Not a big surprise since she and Mac were easily forty years younger than any of his other students. But there was something in his look, like a flash of recognition followed by a blast of heat, which fueled the fire that was Carly’s libido and she gasped.

  “That’s right,” Mr. Petrovski said, mistakenly thinking her gasp was for him. He dropped his free weight on James’s foot and curled up his skinny arm in an attempt to bulge a muscle. “Feel these guns. Bet that makes you weak in the knees, Carly, am I right or am I right?”

  With a hiss of pain, James hopped back from Mr. Petrovski and tried to walk off the impact of the two-pound weight on his foot. He circled them, shaking out his foot as he walked. Carly wanted to ask if he was all right, but Mr. Petrovski was shoving his arm in her face, demanding her attention.

  “You are right, Mr. P.,” Carly said. She obliged him by poking his muscle, which was beginning to droop, with her index finger. “Wow, you are built like a brick house.”

  She glanced over his head to meet James’s gaze. He was staring at her with an intensity that made her insides spasm. Huh.

  She didn’t usually get this sort of reaction from a man when she was makeup-free and the girls were on lockdown. Either James was hard-up or really, really liked the natural look. Never one to pass up an opportunity to flirt, she met his gaze, smiled at him, and then she winked, nice and slow. James’s jaw went slack in response.

  Carly wasn’t surprised. She gave a really good wink and she wasn’t afraid to use it. She was about to push Mr. P. aside and make her move, but Mac destroyed the moment.

  “Carly, oh, my god, is that Ike?” Mac cried.

  Carly whipped her head in her friend’s direction and saw her pointing toward the pickup truck.

  “Holy crap!” Carly cried. Sure enough, Ike was perched on the half-rolled-down window as he surveyed the town green before him. “He must know how to open his cage!”

  “You have a parrot?” Aunt Charlotte asked. “He’s cute.”

  “I like the green feathers,” Aunt Sarah said. “Maybe I’ll have green put in my hair next time.”

  “What do we do?” Mac asked. “Can he fly?”

  “I don’t know,” Carly said. “I’ve never let him out of his cage except to move him from the big one to the smaller one. He didn’t fly then.”

  “I don’t mean to alarm you,” Mr. Petrovski said, “but there are some eagles in the area who would consider him a tasty lunch.”

  For a second—the briefest nanosecond, really—Carly wondered if that was such a bad thing. Then she shook her head; of course it was. Forgetting all about the hot guy, she began to move across the lawn back to the pickup in a sort of trying-not-to-scare-the-bird squat-walk that she hoped looked to Ike like she wasn’t really moving when she was actually hauling ass in his direction as fast as she could, given the weird hunched posture she was in.

  Ike, not being a stupid bird, caught on pretty quick. He stood on one foot and raised his other in his favorite kung fu pose, and squawked, “Bring it, sister. Bring it!”

  Then he flew off the window and up into the sky, where he wobbled awkwardly like an old man who was too blind to drive but refused to give up his license.

  Carly froze. Then she yelled, “Ike, you get back down here! Now!”

  Ike did a shaky barrel roll, which she figured was the bird equivalent of flipping her off. Saul, still in the car, wedged his nose into the open window and began to woof. Carly wasn’t sure if he was egging his bird friend on or trying to call him back.

  “So, he can fly,” Mac said as she joined her.

  “Yeah, sort of like a drunk when the bar closes,” Carly said. When she saw Ike heading at top speed for the trees on the end of the town green, her entire body clenched. “Ah, he’s going to crash!”

  Another bark sounded and Carly saw a blur of motion shoot past her on the left. Ears were flapping, legs were pumping, wheels were turning . . . Wheels?

  “Hot Wheels, no!” James shouted, and then he started running after the dog in the weird contraption. Carly and Mac exchanged a look and then they began to run as well.

  Hot Wheels outmaneuvered them all, however, staying just under Ike, who had not crashed but was now flying low to the ground under the trees, dive-bombing the dog, who continued to bark at him. It looked almost like they were playing, minus the whole snapping teeth and flashing claws thing.

  “I think your dog is trying to eat my bird,” Carly panted as she caught up to James.

  “Really? I think your bird is trying to attack my dog,” he said as they raced side by side to catch their critters.

  Suddenly, both animals disappeared behind a thick thatch of elderberry bushes. The barking stopped and Carly lost sight of Ike’s green plumage. Both she and James froze. Mac joined them, looking equally worried as they all stared
at the place in the bushes where the dog and the bird had disappeared.

  “Your bird—” James began but Carly shouted over him.

  “Your dog—” she began but was interrupted by the sound of a whistle.

  “Is that—?” Mac asked, tipping her head to listen.

  “Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’,” Aunt Sarah sang as she joined them.

  “Keep them doggies movin’,” Aunt Charlotte chimed in.

  The sound of a soft woof came from the underbrush as Hot Wheels came busting out from under the bushes with Ike perched on his harness whistling the tune to Rawhide.

  “Oh, my god,” Mac said. “Gavin would die, just die, if he could see this.”

  Hot Wheels trotted to James, clearly proud of his feathered cargo, and for his part Ike looked as if all was right in his world since he was being carried. He continued whistling the theme to Rawhide and Carly shook her head.

  “This bird is going to be the death of me,” she said. “I know it.”

  Hot Wheels, a basset hound, stopped in front of them and Carly held out her arm in front of Ike, silently praying he stepped onto her hand and didn’t fly off again. After a brief hesitation, he deigned to climb on, and when Carly moved her hand to her chest to keep him close, Ike burrowed his head under her chin. She got the feeling that despite his parrot bravado, he had scared himself silly.

  She felt her heart melt but then shook it off. Yes, he was an interesting bird and even sometimes he was amusing, but he and Saul needed a forever family and that was not her.

  Carly had been lucky to unload the goldfish and the lizard on a couple of teen boys in her building. She had made them take a vow on the life of their Xbox that they would take good care of the pets, and their mother had promised to oversee the situation. So, it was two down and two to go; unfortunately, no one wanted an older dog and a mouthy bird. She couldn’t blame them.

  James was kneeling down beside his dog, checking his harness and his back legs. The rig the dog was hooked into had two wheels at the back and Carly figured it was to help the dog with his hind legs, one of which looked thinner and less muscled than the other.

  The dog was wagging, clearly pleased with himself and his adventure as a rescue dog. Carly approached with Ike still cuddled up against her. James rose to his feet and looked at her. She imagined the relief in his eyes was mirrored in her own.

  “I am so sorry—” they said together. They both stopped and laughed. And then spoke together again, “I haven’t had him long.”

  James grinned at her and Carly felt it hook her low and deep. She smiled back at him. She liked this guy, she really did.

  “You have a great dog,” she said. She glanced at the pooch. “You are a good boy, Hot Wheels, aren’t you?”

  He wagged and woofed, his long ears flopping, obviously understanding praise when he heard it.

  “And you have a very talented bird,” James said. “He’s a real looker like his mama—”

  “Oh, I’m not his—”

  “Carly,” Mac interrupted. She took Carly’s arm and pulled her aside. “I just got three texts from your mom, asking where we are. She sounds a bit panicked. I think you’d better get home ASAP.”

  Carly had to force herself to focus on what Mac was saying. She could feel James watching her and all she wanted to do was bask in his hotness for a while. She’d always had a thing for men with dark hair, blue eyes, and rocking bods. Yeah, if she had a type, he was it.

  Unfortunately, Saul woofed and Ike ruffled his feathers, reminding her that she had beings to tend to. Mac handed her the keys to the truck and said something about coming by later to get it since she needed to deal with the aunts and their crazy scheme to buy motorcycles right here and now.

  Before Carly knew what was what or who was who, she was striding back across the town green toward the truck with Ike. She climbed into the cab and put him back in his cage, making sure it was fastened tight. She patted Saul on the head and then fired up the engine. As she backed out of the parking spot, she glanced up and found James Sinclair watching her with an intensity that made her toes curl. For the first time, she thought coming home might not be so bad after all.

  Chapter 3

  “Here are the keys to the house,” Tony DeCusati said. He handed Carly a set of keys clipped to a World’s Best Dad key chain. “Don’t worry if you lose them, your mother still keeps a spare under the flowerpot on the back deck.”

  “I don’t understand,” Carly said.

  She had just pulled into the driveway to find her father, Tony DeCusati, standing in the driveway as if waiting for her. As soon as she parked beside his Buick, he put two fingers in his mouth and whistled at the house. This was his usual signal to Carly’s mother that she was needed.

  Without so much as a hello, he had yanked the door of the truck open and hauled Carly out as if he was afraid she might change her mind about staying, then he had slapped the house keys into her palm.

  “But these are your keys, Dad. Shouldn’t I just take the spare? What are you going to do without your keys?”

  “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it, sweetie,” Tony said. He opened his arms and pulled Carly in for one of his big bear hugs, the sort he gave when he was especially happy.

  He glanced behind her and saw the bird and the dog. Carly knew he was about to start his “no animals” lecture but instead, he just smiled.

  “You have a dog and a bird? Nice,” he said.

  Carly frowned. Who was this man and what had he done with her father?

  “She’s here! She’s here!” Barbara DeCusati cried as she hurried out the front door and raced down the porch steps.

  October in Maine was a lovely time of year. The colors of the changing leaves dazzled the eyes, while the smell of wood smoke began to perfume the air as people started to fire up their wood stoves in preparation for winter. Corn stalks and pumpkins decorated porches while the last harvest from the garden was reaped to be pickled, canned, or jellied.

  Autumn in Brooklyn was nothing like Maine and Carly had to admit as she watched her mother come toward her that she had missed being home during her favorite season.

  “Hi, Mom,” Carly said. She stepped forward for a hug, feeling for the first time like everything might be okay, because her mom was here and mothers always made everything better, right?

  But Barbara didn’t hug her daughter. Instead, she cupped Carly’s face and looked into her eyes. “It’s good to see you, honey, but now we have to go.”

  “What? Where?” Carly sputtered.

  “Florida!” Barbara said as if it were some magical, mystical place that was visited by invite only.

  She placed a swift kiss on Carly’s forehead and grabbed her husband’s elbow and dragged him toward the Buick. Carly frowned. What had gotten into her parents?

  Barbara DeCusati always greeted her five daughters with kisses all over their faces and hugs that cracked ribs and when she finally let them go, she insisted on feeding them. For Carly, it was always her favorite meatballs and spaghetti because Barbara was sure Carly had lost twenty pounds since she’d last seen her and was convinced that Carly was starving herself, which was one of the many reasons Carly adored her mother.

  But not today. Today, her mother gazed at her as if memorizing her face and then she sighed in complete contentment as if she’d just been waiting for Carly to come home.

  “We’re so glad you’re here,” Barbara said.

  Well, that was more like it, except her parents were still leaving.

  “Come on, Tony, I bet we can make it to New Jersey if we put the pedal to the metal,” Barbara said.

  It was then that Carly noticed that her parents were not dressed in their usual retirement clothes of stretchy jeans and polo shirts and comfortable shoes. Oh, no. They had turned it up a notch with Dad wearing a Hawaiian print under h
is thick charcoal gray cardigan and Mom rocking her blue wool traveling coat over a pretty pink dress. Barbara DeCusati only wore that coat on special occasions, like winter weddings or holiday vacations. Carly blinked in confusion. What the hell?

  “Whooee,” Tony said and clapped his hands together. He turned back to Carly. “Great seeing you, baby girl, but we’ve got to go. Since you’re home to look after your baby sister, we are free for the winter!”

  “What?!” Carly cried. “You’re leaving? No! You can’t! Gina and I detest each other! It’ll be a bloodbath.”

  “Stop being so dramatic,” Barbara said. “You are sisters and grown-ups, you’ll be fine.”

  “Someone will die, Mom,” Carly said. “I am not even kidding.”

  “Carlotta DeCusati, no one will die or there will be hell to pay,” Barbara said. She put her hands on her hips and gave Carly her do not cross me look.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Carly said. Thirty-two years old and she still knuckled under to “the look.” “But when will you be back?”

  “April or maybe May,” Tony said. Then he jumped in the air and kicked his heels together and started to sing, “No snow to shovel, no bitter cold, no wood to chop, no frozen pipes, pour me a piña colada, baby, because I am Florida bound.”

  On that last long note, he opened the door for Carly’s mom, who climbed into the car, and then he danced—danced—around the front and slid into the driver’s seat.

  As they backed out of the driveway, Barbara stuck her head out of her open window and called, “There’s a Crock-Pot full of meatballs for you, dear, love you!”

  And her dad cried, “If you need anything, don’t call us!”

  With a raucous honk, they disappeared down the street and around the corner. Carly stood in the driveway, holding her father’s keys and wondering what the hell had just happened?

  • • •

  “And then they just left,” Carly said. “Can you believe that?”

  “At least your mom left you a Crock-Pot full of meatballs,” Zachary Caine said. He was sitting at the counter in Carly’s parents’ kitchen working on his third serving.