A Thankful Heart (Love at the Chocolate Shop Book 2)

by Melissa McClone

  “No, it’s fine.” His voice sounded tight. “I just have to hold his leash, right?”

  “Yes, but you might need a tight grip.”

  The corners of his lips tipped upward. “I have one of those.”

  She remembered his strong hands keeping her steady. Her temperature rose, and she fought the urge to fan herself.

  “I know.” Her voice sounded deeper than normal. “But, if you’d rather not—”

  “I’ve got this.”

  “Okay. Just remember, you’re in charge. Not the other way around.”

  A volunteer handed Dakota a completed cat application.

  One more animal who found a home. With a heart feeling as light as a feather, she looked at Bryce. “I need to take care of this.”

  “Go ahead.” He dragged his teeth over his lower lip. “Rascal and I will figure this out.”

  Dakota hesitated. “As long as you’re sure.”

  “I am.” He sounded confident.

  Rascal would never hurt anyone, even though that deep, sharp bark suggested otherwise. But probably the less she said, the better.

  Maybe this was the start of a new friendship between the two. She hoped so, but she only wished the sound of something happening between her and Bryce didn’t appeal to her so much.

  Chapter Ten

  The adoption event ended with smiles and cheers on Sunday afternoon. Bryce had managed to control Rascal, and the two had reached an understanding—Bryce would pet the dog if the puppy behaved. That had worked well, although his hand was tired.

  Bryce loaded the final table into a volunteer’s minivan. An older woman named Veronica was going to store them until the rescue was back up and running, which shouldn’t be long. A construction crew had begun repairs. He walked back inside.

  Dakota was speaking to Tim, the feed store owner. She handed him a bag from Copper Mountain Chocolates.

  Neither Scout nor Rascal had been adopted and would be going home with Dakota. He glanced at the two dogs in their crates. “She’s something else.”

  Rascal barked.

  The beast seemed to agree. The dog listened better than people thought.

  With a wide smile on her face. Dakota walked toward him with a slight bounce to her step. “Eleven adoptions today, seven from yesterday, and two in Bozeman, including Maverick.”

  “Which one is Maverick?” he asked.

  “The sad Border Collie from the parking lot. He used to live on a ranch and was adopted by a cattle rancher. My friend Janie says it’s a perfect fit. I couldn’t be more pleased. Maverick is an awesome herder and a real love.”

  Bryce remembered. She’d been kneeling in front of the crate of the whimpering dog. “So how many adoptions does that make?”

  “Twenty.” Dakota’s brown eyes sparkled. “I can’t believe it.”

  “I can. You and all the volunteers worked hard.”

  “We have so much more to do.”

  “Not tonight,” he said. “Twenty adoptions deserve a celebration.”

  “True. I wish I could celebrate. I’m sure the others will.” She didn’t sound upset, only tired. “Pierre has been alone for the past two days, and I want to spend time with him. I also need to figure out how I’m going to canvas the town tomorrow to let them know about the Home for Thanksgiving program if it’s approved by the board.”

  “You have to eat.”

  “I will.”

  His dad was correct. She worked too hard. Bryce wanted to make sure she ate after being on her feet for two days.

  “How about I grab a pizza and swing by your place?” he asked. “You like pepperoni, right?

  Her nose scrunched. “I do, but shouldn’t you be home with your dad?”

  “His friends are over. And he’ll be pleased we’re spending time together.”

  She shook her head. “You’re going to make him think his matchmaking is working.”

  Bryce shrugged. “It makes him happy.”

  She hesitated. “Pizza does sound good.”

  “Great.” And it was. Something about Dakota brought out his protective instincts. She was fully capable of taking care of everything herself, but having someone to look after her might help. “I’ll head over there now before the wait gets too long.”

  “See you soon,” she said.

  “Me, too. I expect a tour of the house.”

  She laughed. “So you have an ulterior motive for coming over.”

  Did he? “Maybe so.”

  *

  Forty-five minutes later, Bryce knocked on Dakota’s front door. He heard barks. Rascal.

  Dakota opened the door. Pierre, the gray rat with big ears, sat on her shoulder. “That was fast.”

  “No wait for the pizza.” He’d made good time at the convenience market, too. So they could eat, not because he wanted to see her. Rather, her house. “Pierre looks comfortable.”

  “This is his favorite spot.”

  Bryce didn’t blame the rat for wanting to be with Dakota. He didn’t get the appeal of a rodent for a pet, but this one looked harmless. Pierre’s whiskers twitched, but his eyes weren’t that beady.

  “Where’s Rascal? I need to know if I should prepare myself for a pounce.”

  “He’s in his crate. Scout, too. They both had two long days.”

  So had Dakota. She was smiling, but the circles under her eyes told him the weekend was catching up with her.

  “You brought more than pizza,” she said.

  “Salad and breadsticks.” He raised the bag in his left hand. “And to celebrate the twenty adoptions, I picked up a bottle of red wine and a six-pack of beer. I wasn’t sure which you preferred.”

  She motioned him inside. “That was sweet of you. Thanks.”

  As soon as he entered the house, barks erupted. “Do they have some kind of radar?”

  “A territorial kind that works better than an alarm system. No batteries or electricity required.”

  She walked past the staircase on her right and the living room on her left. “The kitchen is in the back. I eat in there so the animals can have the dining room, though I sometimes work in there.”

  He remembered the papers and books. “Have you always used the dining room for your foster animals?”

  “I started doing that after my great aunt died. The dining room has easy access to the back door in the kitchen. The large windows bring in natural light, and the animals can see outside. I have a room upstairs that I use to quarantine a new foster, and then they join the menagerie down here.”

  “Sounds like it works well.”

  She nodded. “I don’t entertain much, and my family is so spread out I don’t need a formal dining room. The kitchen table works fine.”

  “You’re not the only one who feels that way. Open floor plans with only one dining area are the trend right now. Few ask for formal living or dining room.”

  Rascal saw him and barked.

  Dakota raised a finger, and the dog didn’t bark again.

  No rubs required. Bryce was impressed. “He’s learning.”

  “Rascal knows the commands. Whether he follows them is the problem.” She entered the kitchen. “Welcome to the first remodeling mess of the evening.”

  He stopped in the doorway. Two adjectives came to mind—ugly and wasted space. He could look beyond color and style. Those were easy fixes. But what this kitchen needed wasn’t going to be an easy change.

  The stove was positioned completely wrong. The refrigerator was by the table, not anywhere near the counter space or sink. The cabinets didn’t reach the ceiling, but the space above was too narrow to be used for storage or decorations.

  He couldn’t see one redeeming feature other than it was clean, and he’d worked on many kitchens in his day. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Horrible doesn’t begin to describe this kitchen.” She touched a magnet-covered refrigerator that made funny noises. It had to be thirty-years old. “The worst part is my great aunt and uncle contributed to th
is mess by adding in the fake woodgrain countertop and the log cabin wallpaper after they moved in.”

  The appliance placement and mix match of styles and color schemes made Bryce’s teeth hurt. “This needs to be gutted so you can start over.”

  “That’s why I haven’t touched this room. The appliances work, and there’s space to prepare meals so no rush when we need to start from scratch.”

  Bryce understood due to the logistics and finances involved. Kitchen renovations were difficult on homeowners, but he disagreed from a matter of aesthetics.

  “You’re the one who has to live here.”

  “I just don’t want to get too used to it.”

  He smiled. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

  Bryce looked beyond the cosmetics to the dimension and placement of the walls, doorways and windows. He stared at the wall separating the kitchen and dining room. “If this wall isn’t load bearing, you could open this up and change the entire feel.”

  She grinned. “Looks like I know who to call for ideas when I’m ready to remodel the kitchen.”

  “I’ll be in Seattle by then, but I’ll leave notes with my dad.” The thought of not being here to see what she did bothered him more than it should. He raised the bag in his hand. “Where do you want the food?”

  “On the counter.” She touched Pierre. “I’m going to put him away. You’ve got a few minutes if you want to take a quick look at the rest of the house.”

  That was trusting of her. Or maybe that was how people who lived in small towns acted. Or how she treated friends.

  “Anything off-limits?” he asked.

  “Just my underwear drawer.” She grinned.

  That made him wonder if she preferred lacy underwear to plain cotton. With a shake of his head, he set off on his tour.

  A door near the dining room was ajar, so he looked inside.

  The bathroom had a harvest gold tub and toilet with a gold-veined shell-shaped sink and countertop. Given the style, this was likely remodeled in the 1980s.

  Bryce walked toward the entryway. The living room was now on his right. He peeked inside. A nice-sized white brick fireplace with built-in shelves on either side was the focal point of the room. In spite of the three windows along one side, the large space seemed cave-like and gave off a 1990s vibe.

  He climbed the stairs. The bannister looked original. Sanding and stain would go a long way.

  Framed photographs hung on the wall in a haphazard array. One showed a young family of five near the Spanish Steps in Rome. Another shot had them standing with the Seattle Space Needle in the background.

  Bryce wanted to take his dad there. Pike Place Market, too, and a hundred other places. His dad would never be bored living in Seattle.

  Picking out Dakota in the pictures was easy. Her smile hadn’t changed. She was a cute kid who seemed to like pigtails and baseball caps when she was younger.

  He went up to the second floor to a small landing. A cat tree sat in the corner, but he saw no cats. She must foster those, too.

  The first door on the left led to a bathroom. He shook his head. Turquoise and yellow tiles covered the floors and walls. The toilet and bathtub were turquoise, too. Circa 1950s, he guessed. Although older than the downstairs bathroom, this one appeared in better shape.

  The three upstairs bedrooms had been painted white. Only one looked occupied with an overstuffed chair and ottoman in one corner and a queen-sized sleigh bed against the wall with matching nightstands and a dresser. The patchwork quilt on the bed was homey looking. The room was comfortable, feminine but not too frilly.

  Dakota’s room?

  Most likely. The other two had beds, but nothing to make them seem lived in like this one. He headed toward the stairs.

  Dakota was halfway up them. “Dinner’s on the table.”

  “Great house. Solid with so many possibilities.”

  His mind was spinning with ideas. Removing walls on both floors would make the house more open and livable. Adding a master bathroom to her bedroom would add equity. But this wasn’t his project.

  “You’re going to have fun remodeling this place,” he added.

  “It’s been interesting, so far.”

  Bryce motioned to the photographs on the wall. “Nice family.”

  “My mom loves to take pictures.” Dakota pointed to a teenager. “This is my brother York when he was in high school. He’s a computer whiz in the Air Force. The little girl next to him is my younger sister Nevada. She’s getting her PhD right now and wants to be a college professor.”

  “Did you ever want to go to grad school?”

  “My mom was pushing me toward law school. She still is, but college was hard enough. The idea of law school doesn’t appeal to me at all. If I had to get a nine-to-five type job, I’d rather work in animal advocacy or a lobby group. Something where I could make a difference.”

  “You’re making a difference now.”

  “Thank you. I just wish my mother could see that. She’s so proud of my siblings, but she thinks I’m throwing away my degree working in a chocolate shop and volunteering. But I’m happy, and one of these days, the opportunity to do more will come along.”

  “Or you’ll decide to make your own opportunity.”

  “That, too.”

  “York, Nevada, and Dakota.” Bryce repeated the three names. “Your parents must be geography buffs.”

  “We moved all the time, so I always thought they named us after the places they’d lived, but my dad was never stationed in New York or in England. York jokes that our names are the places we were conceived, but my parents have neither confirmed nor denied that.”

  The Parker family sounded interesting. “Where do your parents live?”

  “On a sailboat.” She pointed to another picture that showed a fit couple in their fifties on a sandy beach with palm trees behind them. “After my dad retired two years ago, they purchased a boat and sailed south. Right now, I think they’re in Belize.”

  “You think? Don’t you worry about them being so far away?”

  She shrugged. “I wish I saw them more, especially during the holidays, but my parents are living their dream. I’m happy they’re able to do that after a life full of military deployments, moves, and other sacrifices.”

  Bryce could understand that, but his dad wasn’t living his dream in Marietta. He was living out his late wife’s dream. He’d been here three years. This had to be some kind of phase. One that was time to end.

  “I’m having a hard enough time with my dad in Montana. No way would I want him to live in another country.”

  “Your dad is awesome. He’s so happy you’re here this month.”

  That was good to know. They would have more time together in Seattle. He just needed to get his father to see that.

  “It’s great being here with him.” Bryce studied more pictures. None showed Dakota with men other than her father and brother. “My dad’s always wanted a personal minion to do his bidding. Now he has me.”

  She laughed. “Maybe that’s why your father seems…more content…even with two broken legs. That’s your doing.”

  “I worry he’s lonely.”

  “Living alone takes some getting used to, but he’s got you now.”

  “I’ll be leaving a couple of days after Thanksgiving. I have to get back to work.”

  And turn in his proposal. He’d then be waiting to hear if he was invited to make a presentation.

  Bryce thought about telling Dakota how much he wanted his father to move to Seattle but decided against it. He didn’t want to spoil tonight, and it might because Dakota valued his father’s advice. The two shared a close friendship. She wouldn’t want Walt to move away, even if it were to be closer to Bryce.

  He took a step down. “We should eat before the pizza gets cold.”

  *

  On Monday, Dakota put an adopt me vest on Scout and walked around Main Street. Inside her backpack were promotion packets—a flier to hang o
n windows or community bulletin boards, information cards, and brochures—about the Home for Thanksgiving Adoption Drive.

  She’d been careful about what she’d asked for from the employees and volunteers at the rescue who took care of marketing materials. She wanted to make sure what was printed could be used whether the benefactor came through or the proposal was accepted by the board. All she needed was the call from Lori to proceed, but at least people were seeing one of the available animals.

  Staying home and resting on her day off probably would have been better, but she needed to stay busy. Otherwise, she kept thinking about Bryce. The man had even invaded her dreams last night.

  Pent-up frustration, according to Kelly when they’d spoke earlier.

  Maybe that was it.

  They’d enjoyed a nice dinner, never ran out of things to discuss, and he’d even helped with the dishes. But when the time came for him to leave, the only thing they exchanged was a “goodnight.”

  Her lips had been screaming in protest, but she hadn’t felt like making a move. After he’d mentioned going back to Seattle, shaking hands again hadn’t appealed to her, even though she’d wanted to touch him.

  Had his words been a warning? Or just what was going to happen? She had no idea, but she’d taken his words as a sign not to get too close.

  Her cell phone beeped.

  Maddie Cash’s name and number appeared on the screen.

  Maddie: Sorry I couldn’t get Clementine to the adoption event this weekend.

  Maddie: I had open houses both days.

  Dakota: That’s okay. We’re having another this weekend. The rescue might be back open by then, too.

  Maddie: Keep me posted.

  Dakota: Will do.

  She tucked her phone away.

  Time to pay a visit to the next shop on her list—the flower shop. All the pretty blossoms in the buckets outside made her want to splurge on a bouquet.

  Why not?

  As Bryce said, twenty adoptions deserved a celebration. More than one.

  She reached for the doorknob. The ringtone Who Let the Dogs Out played. Lori. The flowers would have to wait.

  Had the director received an answer from the benefactor?

  Dakota’s heart lodged in her throat. She pulled out her phone and placed it at her ear. “Hey.”