by Lacey Baker
“Come over here and play with her,” Kraig was saying. Quinn hurriedly turned his attention back to him and the dog.
He moved closer to the table and reached for Dixi. She instantly took a step back. She wasn’t barking, which Quinn thought was good, but she wasn’t jumping in his arms or trying to get a lick of him like she was impatient to do with Kraig.
“Here, let’s try this,” Kraig said, putting Dixi down on the floor. “Call her,” he instructed.
“Here, Dixi, come on girl,” Quinn called, kneeling down and reaching an arm out to the dog.
Dixi—he purposely left out the “sweet”—sat back on her butt so hard and so fast you would have thought he’d given her the “sit” command instead and held a handful of doggy treats to reward her.
“Hmmm, she doesn’t like you much, huh?”
Quinn laughed. “Guess you could say that.”
Kraig shook his head and picked Dixi up. “Nah, she’s just not sure you’re hers or not. And I get the impression you’re walking a tightrope on that decision, too. Labs are very friendly, even with strangers. The fact that she’s shying away from you is atypical for this breed.”
“I live and work in Seattle. My house is anti-kid, so most likely anti-puppy as well. I work long hours and wouldn’t know what to do with a puppy when I got home after twelve hours away. Except if it were Dixi I’m sure I’d be cleaning one puddle after another.”
“You are correct there.” Kraig chuckled. “Labs don’t do well without attention. So if you don’t have a couple of hours a day to devote solely to them, I’d say start thinking about another pet. She wants your heart. Once you give it to her she’ll give you everything she has, which is loyalty and devotion that compares to nothing a human could offer.”
Kraig was talking like a man who’d expected loyalty and devotion from a human but didn’t get it. To a certain extent Quinn figured he could relate. Then again, he’d learned that with the love of every human would eventually come the pain. He wasn’t looking forward to experiencing that ever again.
“I don’t know that I’m up for that type of commitment,” he admitted.
Kraig nodded. “Good of you to recognize your limitations and own up to them. Most people are too selfish to do that. So, I’d suggest you start looking for a good home for her because the longer she knows she’s not wanted, the harder its going to be to place her.”
“Any particular type of owner I should look for?”
“Big house, maybe some kids who like to roll around nonstop. Then again, a good owner could just as easily be a single man with enough space for a Lab to grow and satisfy its inquisitive nature. The key is the attention—it’s make or break for this breed. So make sure when you interview prospective owners that they know what they’re getting into and that they’re ready for the commitment. I’d hate for Dixi to lose another owner so early in life.”
It was Quinn’s turn to nod as he watched Dixi. Her rich brown color was alluring to say the least. Quinn didn’t think he’d ever seen a dog who looked more like milk chocolate in his life. Admittedly, he’d never been obsessed with dogs—or any pet, for that matter—but this one looked absolutely perfect.
“What about those dog shows? Would she be good in them?” he asked offhandedly.
Kraig smiled. “I’m not a professional handler, but from a vet’s perspective Dixi’s definitely of show quality. I was amazed when Mrs. Cantrell said Mr. Heathrow told her to keep the entire litter. No breeder I know would sell let alone give away a brand-new litter of show-quality puppies. But sure, Dixi would love to show off, and she’d love to please her owner any way she can.”
There was a knock on the door then and Maisy poked her head inside.
“Miss McCann is here with her bichon frise but she won’t tell me what the problem is. She only wants to speak with you,” Maisy told him with an obviously irritated look on her face.
A weary and slightly annoyed look momentarily crossed Kraig’s face. Quinn hurriedly looked away. He tried to focus on Dixi, the dog who apparently wasn’t getting a good vibe from him.
“I’ll be right back,” Kraig told Quinn.
As Kraig walked out, Maisy crossed the room and stood next to the table where Dixi was now sitting. Immediately the dog perked up, turning all her attention to Maisy, who opened her arms and played enthusiastically with her. Quinn frowned.
“Miss McCann is so transparent.” Maisy began talking almost immediately. “She thinks I don’t know why she won’t tell me what’s wrong with her dog. First of all, there’s probably nothing wrong with the pampered pup. She just wants a reason to come in here twice a week and make a play at Dr. Bellini. But he doesn’t even like her. She’s so easy.”
To this mini rant Quinn had no idea what to say. His only other option—and the smarter choice, he surmised—was to keep watching Dixi. The way she rolled over onto her back and panted as Maisy rubbed her belly. The look in her eyes said it was pure bliss.
“And I mean how lame is that to use your dog to try and get a man? Really? Is that the best she can do? Dr. Bellini needs to tell her to get lost. But he won’t because she always pays in cash when she comes in. Like lots and lots of cash. I don’t know where she gets it because she doesn’t work and doesn’t have a husband. I kind of wish she did have a husband, then maybe she wouldn’t come in here so much. Then again, she might because she’s just like that,” Maisy finished with a tone that Quinn thought she figured he understood.
“Just like what?” Kraig asked when he came back into the room, no doubt saving Quinn from more of Maisy’s mini rant.
Inwardly he sighed with relief by reaching out to mimic the way Maisy had been rubbing Dixi. To his surprise, the normally temperamental pup didn’t bark when he touched her, simply lolled her head in the other direction so she could see him.
“Ah, Dixi’s just like a princess. She likes to be pampered,” Maisy said by way of recovery. Looking at Quinn she silently begged his compliance. He could only nod at the pretty young girl.
“I see what you’re saying,” he added to the cover-up, but was honestly picking up on what the doctor had said. “If I treat her like she’s royalty, she’ll stop peeing on my shoes.”
Maisy laughed. “Right, that’s exactly right.”
Kraig nodded. “That would be my assessment as well,” he told them. “I can also keep you posted if I hear of anyone looking for a Lab. If you’re really desperate to get rid of her, and I hope this isn’t the route you’d take, but I at least have to make it known. There’s an animal shelter in Easton that you could leave her at. They only give them forty-five days to be adopted, however.”
Then they euthanized them—Kraig didn’t have to say that part. Quinn already knew and to his further surprise he felt a pang of guilt at the very suggestion.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Gramma wanted us to find them a loving home. So that’s what I’m going to do.”
“Good,” Kraig told him, nodding his agreement and slipping a hand into his pocket. “So I can give you a call if I hear of anyone looking. How long are you staying in Sweetland?”
“I only planned for the week. Then again, I didn’t plan for Dixi.”
Could he take her back to Seattle with him? Surely there were people looking for a puppy there, too? Dixi had come to her feet and was now standing in front of him, looking up expectantly. Going only on instinct, he rubbed behind her ears and didn’t pull away as her head turned quickly and her tongue found his wrist and fingers. When his watch fell off from the jostling about, Dixi quickly grabbed it between her teeth and moved to the other side of the table.
“Lab pups are also notorious for taking stuff and walking off with it. The longer you keep her, the more you’ll have to focus on training her not to do that.”
He nodded. “I’ll give you my cell number so you can get in touch with me if you hear from someone. Even once I leave, you can call me to let me know.”
“You’re going to take her b
ack with you?” Kraig asked.
“Yes. I don’t have any other choice.”
“My little cousin has always wanted a puppy. My aunt wanted her to wait until she was old enough. She’s turning six this Sunday. I could ask her if she wants Dixi?” Maisy offered.
“That’d be great,” Quinn said, looking at the way Dixi happily contented herself with his watch.
He wasn’t a dog owner, had never even thought of owning a pet. And this was a show quality. She should be shown or trained or at the very least given the attention Kraig said she needed. All Quinn could offer her was a pretty house, plenty of food, and lots of things for her to either steal or pee on.
Chapter 9
It was well after eight when Quinn finally made his way back to The Silver Spoon. After leaving his number with Kraig and taking him up on his offer for drinks on Friday night, he’d walked back down Main Street in search of a pet supply store. He hadn’t recalled seeing one on his journey down but figured it was a good tourist lure and sure enough he stumbled upon Sweet Nothings. At first glance the assumption would be that this was a candy store or a store that at least had sweet items to eat. No. It was a store that sold any and everything it could with the Sweetland logo and slogan on it. Life should be so sweet was the slogan the town council had come up with five years ago, according to Michelle, when they’d thought to reestablish the town as a tourist destination. And way in the back left-hand corner was a pet section with everything from colored collars with SWEETLAND impressed into the leash to water and food bowls with the same logo.
The first purchase Quinn made was a leash for Dixi, whom he’d taken out of her—what he now considered—ugly box and held in his arms while he made the selection.
“Do you like this one?” he’d asked her, holding up a black collar with SWEETLAND scrawled in swirling pink letters and a matching leash to go with it.
Dixi’s reply was to lick along the collar until he put it back and offered her a hot pink one with white writing. This one she actually tried to grab out of his hand.
“So that’s the one, huh? Okay, I take it you like pink,” he said, moving on to the bowls then finally stopping to search for a new box.
The options were four different designs in an array of colors. Kneeling on the floor with his bowls under one arm, he let Dixi get down. She ran straight to a pale pink carrier that looked much more comfortable than the one he’d been using. He was just about to try to lift all his items and his dog into his arms and head to the counter when his attention was drawn to pretty painted toenails and strappy high-heeled sandals with sparkly clips at the ankles.
“Need some help?” a feminine voice inquired.
Dixi moved to the female immediately, looking upward as if she expected to be picked up. Quinn scooped her up with one arm and stood after he’d stuffed the bowls, collar, and leash into the carrier and held that in his other hand.
“Thanks, but I think I’ve got it now.”
She was a tall woman, the top of her head almost passing his shoulders—and Quinn was six foot one. Her eyes were a subtle green color, like ocean water he’d dare not venture into, her skin flawless with makeup that looked so delicate it could have been natural. However, when she smiled, Quinn felt a slight sense of dread.
“Quinton Cantrell in the flesh,” she said. “I was wondering if I’d run into you while you were here.”
It took him another second before the eyes, the sultry sound of her voice, and the long painted nails he’d spotted when she lifted a hand to rub across her chin jogged his memory.
“Diana McCann.” He said her name slowly. “It’s been a long time.”
“Yes, it has. Like almost twenty years,” Diana said, still smiling at him. “I was so sorry to hear about your grandmother.”
“Thank you.” Dixi was becoming fidgety in his arms and Quinn looked down at her, making a shushing sound in the hope of keeping her quiet. She’d been like a different dog once they left the vet; he was almost getting used to her not barking so loudy or moving around in the case like she was destined to break out.
“So you’ve got a dog. I have one, too, but she’s a little under the weather. I just left her with Dr. Bellini to figure out what’s wrong with her.”
And you were the one who upset pretty little Maisy. Quinn looked at Diana a little differently now that he’d connected the dots so to speak.
“We just had a visit with the doctor as well. Dixi here is just fine. Now that we’ve gotten her everything she needs to be comfortable, she should be even better.”
Diana nodded, the long ponytail that waved ridiculously from the top of her head to what he suspected was near the middle of her back bobbing slightly. If Quinn’s memory served correctly, Diana had been in school with the twins so she was about three years younger than him. Her parents owned a bunch of real estate all over the world and thus made a tremendous amount of money. That, of course, meant they didn’t have much time to raise their only child, whom they sent to live with her great-uncle George Bellmont on his estate beyond Yates Passage. It looked as if Diana hadn’t changed much over the years.
“So all of you are back, huh? How long are you planning to stay? Surely you can’t all live in that bed-and-breakfast place; it would never make any money. Even though I’m not sure how much Mrs. Cantrell was able to squeeze out of it anyway.”
Nope, she hadn’t changed at all. Still thought she was better than everyone in Sweetland, but didn’t have enough guts to get herself away from the town she swore was more a hindrance than a benefit. And she was the second person, outside of his family, who had made a remark about the B&B’s status.
“The B and B does very well,” he told her quickly and with a tinge of attitude. “And no, we’re not all planning to stay.”
“What about your brothers? Marabelle Stanley was just complaining about a loud vehicle running up and down her block last night. She said it was Parker riding some kind of bike. I believe her since Parker was always the daredevil of the Cantrell men.”
Quinn refused to bite. “Parker’s here and he’s doing just fine.”
“You’d think he’d remember how deadly quiet this town is. Riding around on a motorcycle is not the norm.”
“Parker’s never been known to do the norm,” he admitted with a smile because he’d always wished he had just a smidgen of Parker’s recklessness.
She’d been standing right at the edge of the aisle so that Quinn couldn’t pass her and had no choice but to stand there and keep talking. If there was anything Quinn didn’t like, it was feeling as if he was trapped. Finally he skirted around her, saying over his shoulder, “I should get Dixi home so she can play with her new toys.”
No luck. Diana followed him, her heels clicking annoyingly on the hardwood floors.
“I would think he’d grown up by now. He was such a little hell raiser. I hear he’s a cop now, surely he’s matured.”
“Parker’s a detective,” Quinn told her once he was at the register putting his things up on the counter.
The older woman behind the register gave him a warm smile. “Hope you found everything you needed.”
“Yes, ma’am, I did. Thanks,” was his reply.
As the woman rang up the items Diana kept right on talking. “He should have more respect especially considering he’s supposed to be in mourning.”
“I’ll be sure to tell him that,” Quinn replied without looking at her again.
The woman behind the counter rolled her eyes in Diana’s direction, causing Quinn to smile.
Once he’d paid for his things, Quinn left the old carrier with the store owner who promised to donate it to the shelter in Easton. He was on his way out the door when Diana yelled out to him.
“I might stop by that little bed-and-breakfast just to see what all the fuss is about. Be sure to tell Parker!”
Quinn only nodded and smiled at her. He’d tell Parker all right. He’d warn his brother that Dirty Diana was once again on the prowl.
<
br /> That thought had him chuckling all the way down to the corner of Birch and Duncan, where—of all the things he’d never expected to see in Sweetland—he spotted a hot dog cart. The scent was alluring, and Quinn’s stomach growled as he grew closer. So he stopped and picked up an all-beef hot dog loaded with mustard, chili, and relish. About fifteen minutes later he was happily walking down Sycamore, loving the scent of the Bay that wafted up through the town and the peaceful sight of evening settling in.
As he stepped onto the front porch of the B&B he noticed Sylvester sitting in a rocker, a table in front of him, chessboard open on top.
Later Quinn would look back on the day and think it was one of the most relaxing and awakening times of his life.
“Got a game going, Mr. Sylvester?” he said, heading for the door.
Sylvester looked up from under the brim of a well-worn Baltimore Orioles hat. “Yep. Join me?”
“No. I don’t really play chess.”
“I didn’t, either, till I came to Sweetland. Come on, sit down, can’t be going all your life.”
With a shrug Quinn let Dixi out of her carrier, remembering the exercise Kraig said she needed. The front yard was big enough to tire her out.
“See you carrying that dog around like she’s a baby,” Sylvester said with a chuckle as Quinn pulled another rocker from the opposite end of the porch to sit on the other side of the chess table.
“Didn’t know how else to transport her,” he told the old man.
“She can walk right well. Look at her running after lightning bugs.”
Quinn looked over his shoulder. Sure enough, Dixi was chasing the intermittent flash of light in the air above her.
“I just bought her a leash today so she’ll be taking walks soon enough.”
“Good. Good. Dogs need exercise. They need to have fun.” Sylvester leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, his face down toward the chessboard as if he was really studying his next move.
“So I hear from the vet. Is Savannah still here?” Quinn asked, wanting to change the subject from the dog for some reason.
