by Lori Foster
That was only the beginning, Sam realized, carrying another crated Pekingese to his car while the woman—he really had to find out her name—followed him with shopping bags filled with gifts and a large backpack. Sam also carried a bag filled with various important dog items, such as food, bowls and bottled water.
“You don’t exactly travel light,” he said, earning a shy smile from the dogs’ guardian.
“The stockings are for a shelter in Fredericksburg.”
“Stockings?”
She placed the shopping bags along the side of the car, where Darcy wouldn’t be able to step on them. “I make them to raise money for animal shelters. See?” She lifted a tissue-filled Christmas stocking out of the bag to show him. Made of fabric with flowers, it had a lace cuff decorated with old buttons and a faded pink velvet rose.
“Uh, that’s real nice.” It looked like something that would be sold in one of those upscale boutiques Susan loved to frequent, which was a little strange considering it was in a cardboard box in the back of the Escalade.
“It’s not exactly a guy thing.” She smiled at him again. “Your wife might like one and I’d be glad to give you one to—”
“No wife,” he said, cutting off her words. He should have been standing in the church right at this moment. He’d looked forward to the ceremony, to the solemn promise to take Susan as his wife, “’til death do us part.” The only disappointment he’d anticipated when he’d dressed for his wedding was that his parents weren’t going to be there to celebrate the day with him. Just as well now. Funny how things worked out for the best, just the way his mother liked to say.
“I’m sorry,” Dog Woman said, her voice soft. When he glanced up into those blue eyes, he saw that she looked absolutely heartbroken.
“Sorry?”
“Well, about your wife. You looked so sad when you said you weren’t married that, w-well…” she stammered, “I thought—”
“You thought I had a wife and she left me?”
“I thought you had a wife and she died.”
“Stand back,” he said, before slamming the tail door shut. “I’ve never been married. I have no wife, dead or alive. You don’t have to look at me like that.”
“Like what?” She followed him around to the passenger door, which he opened for her.
“Like you feel sorry for me.” Which was exactly what he’d dreaded, come to think of it. That’s why he wasn’t with his friends right now.
Her eyebrows rose, and those lovely eyes widened. “Well, of course I did. You did sound pathetic and you are wandering around in a tuxedo on a Saturday morning as if you can’t find your way home after a wild Friday night.”
“It was not wild,” he said, wondering why he bothered to explain. “And I’m not ‘wandering around.’ I was supposed to attend a wedding this morning.” He shut the door and went around to the driver’s side to get in. Dog Woman didn’t look happy.
“Have I made you late?” She looked at her watch, then back at him. “What time do you have to be there?”
“It’s over,” he assured her. “It was over and I came here to get a cup of coffee and something to—damn it, Darcy, where are they?”
The mastiff hung his head over the front seat, but didn’t attempt to lick either one of the people sitting there.
“Please,” Dog Woman said, “tell me he doesn’t bite or growl or attack women and small dogs.”
“He’s never attacked anything larger than a bakery box.”
“Uh, nice boy,” she murmured, patting Darcy’s brindled head. “You said he’s a mastiff?”
“Mostly. We think he has some boxer and maybe even some Great Dane in him, too. Do you want coffee?”
“No, thanks.”
“I’m going to take the drive-through,” Sam explained, starting the car. “I think Darcy ate all the doughnuts when I left him alone in here.”
“He does look a little guilty.”
“Yeah,” Sam said, backing the car out of the parking space. “He should. He’s caused a lot of trouble this morning.”
“It’s not his fault,” the woman insisted. “In fact, I think it’s me. I’ve been jinxed all day. My van was leaking transmission fluid and I was on my way to a repair shop and trying to figure out how to get the Pekes back to Rhode Island.”
“That’s where you’re from? Rhode Island?” He managed to get into the line of cars waiting their turn at the microphone. The place was mobbed this morning. It was a miracle Darcy hadn’t been hit when he’d made his escape from the SUV.
“Yes. My name is Jess Hall, by the way.”
“Sam Grogan.” He turned to look at her, telling himself he was only being polite. She was prettier than he’d thought when he’d first seen her, but Sam didn’t let that affect him, no way. He didn’t really want to know her name or where she was from or if she had a boyfriend—he’d happened to see that she wore no wedding ring or engagement diamonds. He didn’t want to know anything more about her other than she was a do-gooder dog lover who couldn’t afford a decent car.
He’d offered to take her to the hospital to treat those burns on her hands—she’d refused. He’d offered coffee and doughnuts—she’d refused. All that was left was to give her and her possessions a lift to the repair shop and his responsibilities were over. He could go home and get drunk. He could get out of this damn monkey suit and cancel his reservations at that fancy resort in Hawaii.
He was through with women. And the sooner he got this one back on the road the better.
While Jess Hall went into the auto body repair shop to talk to a mechanic, Sam sipped his coffee, ate a couple of doughnuts and ignored the pleading eyes of a dog that had already eaten a week’s worth of fat and sugar.
And he reluctantly turned his phone back on.
There were twenty-seven voice messages. He wondered for a split second if Susan had changed her mind and wanted him to return to the church—not that he would, but it would have been an interesting conversation to have with his former fiancée—but most of the messages turned out to be from friends who said they were sorry to hear about the wedding being cancelled. Twelve of those were from five guys, reiterating the need to meet at Sam’s apartment and entertain him for the weekend. Sam supposed they thought he wouldn’t want to be alone.
There were three messages from his father, who’d had a phone call from Susan’s father. The first was calm, asking Sam to call as soon as he felt able to talk. The second sounded more worried, with his mother’s tearful admonitions in the background. Call your mother were the only words on the last voice mail. Which meant Sam Grogan Senior meant business, especially since he’d used his severest tone and didn’t care how grown-up his son thought he was.
Sam toyed with the phone for a second. Sorry, Dad. I was stuck at Krispy Kreme this morning with a crazy dog woman who drove into a Dumpster. He smiled, despite everything, and hit the button that would connect him with his folks.
By the time Jess Hall returned to the car, Sam had explained everything to his parents. Well, almost everything, he thought as the little blonde opened the car door and hopped inside.
“So, where are you now?” his father asked, clearly worried. “You’re not alone, are you? Is Jim with you?”
“No, I’m heading home. I stopped to get coffee—”
“Which is not good for you,” his mother, a confirmed tea drinker, pointed out.
“I’m cutting down,” Sam assured her, which he did at least once a week.
“I wish we were there, the way we would have been if I hadn’t gotten sick. We could have been there for you, when you needed us.” He thought she had started to cry again. “I’d like to tell Susan a thing or two.”
“Mom, everything is going to be fine.” He glanced toward Jess, who looked as if she was trying not to burst into tears herself.
“Where are you?” his father asked again. “You’re not driving while you’re on the phone, are you? I hate it when people do that. Just drives me n
uts when—”
“I’m in a parking lot outside of Frank’s Auto Body Shop. Darcy had a little accident—” His mother gasped, so Sam hurried to explain. “He’s fine, but the woman who avoided hitting him ended up with some car trouble.” He saw Jess fumble around in her purse until she found a wad of tissue.
“A woman?” His mother perked up. “Please tell me she’s young, beautiful and single.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Sam Senior sputtered. “What are the odds of that?”
“Well,” Sam drawled, glad his mother had stopped sniffling into the phone, “it’s true. She’s some kind of dog rescue person who drives them from West Virginia to Rhode Island. I have three dogs in the car right now. Four,” he corrected, adding Darcy to the list.
“What kind of dogs?” his father asked.
Martha had become positively chatty. “I’ll bet we’re right on the way. Tell her to stop in Westport and we’ll fix her a nice meal. She could even spend the night if she wants. Give her directions, Sam.”
Sam laughed and turned to Jess. “My mother says you’re to stop at their house and have something to eat. They’re in Westport, Connecticut, and you’re welcome any time.”
“Thank you,” Jess said. “Maybe next time.”
“Speaking of being welcome,” his father said. “Why don’t you come home for a few days? Your mother’s feeling lots better and having you around to spoil would cheer her up.”
“Next time?” His mother sounded disappointed. “What’s wrong with her car, Sam?”
He turned to Jess. “She wants to know what’s wrong with your car.”
“Too many things to fix,” she answered. “And, according to the mechanic, not worth the money to fix it, though he’ll do it if I want, but it’s going to take a couple of weeks to get parts. Big, expensive parts.”
“I think it’s totaled,” he told his mother. Jess groaned.
“Then you should drive her and her dogs to Rhode Island,” Martha declared. “What is it, about three hours from here to Rhode Island, Sam? How long did it take us to go to Newport last summer?”
His father was quick to answer. “Three hours is about right. You know, your mother has a good idea. You were coming here anyway.”
“No, I wasn’t,” Sam corrected, but he knew he was talking to two people who wanted to see him and reassure themselves that he was going to be okay, cancelled wedding and broken heart notwithstanding.
“I’ll make my famous meatballs,” Sam Senior informed him. “What’s her name? Does she likes meatballs? Will you be here tonight?”
“I don’t know,” he said, answering the last two questions. “It’s started to snow here.”
“Well, take your time,” his mother advised him. “We’ll be here.”
“What kind of dogs?” his father asked again. “Not more like Darcy, I hope?”
“No. These are small hairy dogs. Pekingese.”
“Oh, my goodness,” his mother said. “This is turning out to be quite a day.”
And that, Sam decided, pretty much summed it up.
CHAPTER FOUR
“IT’S NOT TOTALED,” Jess told him after he put his cell phone down. “Not exactly.”
“How much is it going to cost to fix?”
She told him the estimate. Even saying the figure aloud was painful and she watched Sam wince, which was exactly what she had done when she’d heard the price.
“It’s not worth it,” he replied. “It’s how old? Twelve years? Ten?”
“Twelve.”
“With how many miles on it?”
“Almost one-eighty.”
He looked at her as if she was mentally incompetent, but Jess knew she couldn’t afford to fix the van, not even if it was the best financial decision possible. The van was old, her checking account small, and her Visa spending limit wouldn’t cover the cost of parts, never mind the labor involved. The mechanic had offered to buy it for his teenaged son to fix up, and she’d accepted.
“I’ll take you to a car dealer—there are plenty to choose from along this stretch of road. You can buy something else and be on your way in an hour.”
“I can’t,” she said. “My best friend’s husband sells cars and if I bought a car from anyone but him—They’re expecting a baby,” she added, as if that made any difference to a stranger. “He’ll give me a good deal,” she added. “Better than I’d get here.”
“I’ll buy you a plane ticket,” Sam Grogan said as if he actually thought she would accept such an offer.
“Thank you,” she said. “But that’s not the problem. It’s what to do with the Pekes. I can take one on the plane with me, but I can’t ship the others as cargo. It’s too cold and besides, it’s too risky.”
She watched as he finished his coffee and looked at the snowflakes hitting the windshield. He didn’t say anything. “I’ll get a motel room and wait for someone from Peke rescue to rescue me,” she said. “Someone will call back soon and we’ll figure it out. If you’ll give us a ride to an Econo Lodge, that would be great.” She dug her cell phone from her purse. “I’ll call them and find out the closest location.”
“My father wanted to know if you like meatballs.”
“Why?”
“I’m heading to Connecticut this weekend,” he said. “And my parents—nice people but full of ad vice—suggested I give you a ride.” He peered at the snow and frowned. “It could take quite a while to get there. I usually can do it in six, six and a half hours, if the weather and the traffic aren’t bad.”
“You’re offering to take us with you?” She wondered if he’d been tackled too many times during his football career.
“I’ve had a change of plans for the weekend. My mother is recovering from the flu. My parents were supposed to be visiting me, but they had to cancel when she got sick.”
“They were coming to the wedding?”
“Yes.” He crushed the empty cup. “But it turns out they didn’t miss anything.”
“Oh.” It must have been an important wedding. Someone in the family, she assumed. It had been cancelled at the last minute or Sam Grogan wouldn’t be wearing a tuxedo. It was more than a little surreal, going from her leaking van to a shiny Escalade, being driven by a handsome sportscaster in a black tux. The tie was missing, the shirt collar undone, but it only added to the disheveled charm of a handsome man. And, oh, was he handsome. Not her type at all, of course. Tuxedoed men didn’t show up on her doorstep and whisk her off to formal balls. Sportscasters and football players were as close—and as far away—as her television screen. They didn’t drive her around town. Until today. Today was the most bizarre day she’d had in a long, long time.
The mastiff rested his enormous head on her shoulder.
“He won’t stop until you pet him,” Sam said. “But he won’t go away if you do pet him.”
“Kind of a catch-22 situation.” She rubbed the dog’s ears and he leaned closer, touching her cheek with his nose.
“So, Jess Hall, what do you want to do? I have to stop at my place for some clothes, but we can be on our way right after that.”
“Well…” She hesitated. Every horrible story she’d ever heard about serial killers, rapists, murderers and psychopaths flashed through her head. “I don’t know.”
“I’ve been approved by the state police,” he reminded her. “You’re welcome to call my parents and keep them talking on my phone until we get there.” He handed her his phone.
“Give me their names and address.” She took a piece of paper from her purse and wrote down what he told her, then she called home and left the message on Mary’s machine. She copied his car registration from the glove compartment, checked his driver’s license and left another detailed message with the transport coordinator.
“Do you want to call the newsroom, too?”
He didn’t look at all upset by her precautions. In fact, he seemed curious as to what she would do next.
“No. I’m used to following my instincts
about people. And you do seem perfectly safe.”
“I’m the height of respectability,” Sam Grogan declared. “But you probably shouldn’t go around accepting rides from strange men.”
“You’re not strange,” she pointed out. “The policeman knew you and so did the tow truck driver. By the way, the mechanic told me to tell you that you were all wrong with your game predictions for Sunday.” He’d also asked her if this was the weekend that Grogan was getting married. “You had no intention of going to Connecticut this weekend, though, did you?”
“No.” His smile faded and he looked away from her and turned on the engine. Darcy whined. “Up until a couple of hours ago, I had other plans.”
She knew not to ask what they were. It made sense now. He was supposed to be at a wedding. His wedding. And he’d gotten cold feet and run away to Krispy Kreme for coffee and a place to hide. She’d seen a show on Oprah last spring about jilted brides and wedding disasters.
“Okay,” Jess said. “I’m really grateful for the help. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Can we get going now, before the snow gets worse?”
“Sure.” She fastened her seat belt and shoved her possessions back into her purse. “I’ll walk the dogs when we stop at your place.”
There was still the stop to make outside of D.C., where Hazel waited with the boxes of old fabric to exchange for the stockings. Somehow Jess didn’t think this was the right time to mention it.
DARCY DIDN’T MEAN to cause problems for Sam. And he wasn’t sure he liked the idea of sharing his car with three noisy little dogs with their flat noses, black faces and snuffling sounds. They snorted like pigs, in his opinion. And they looked stupid with their tongues sticking out. At first he thought they were doing it on purpose, to make him laugh, but now he figured they just did it because they didn’t know any better. Maybe it felt good.
He opened his mouth and let his tongue fall out, but aside from panting and drooling, normal stuff, not much happened. The darn flat faces looked at him but didn’t say anything. The male didn’t even blink and the two females looked sleepy. Darcy put his tongue back in his mouth and considered his company. They smelled nice and doggy, like they’d come from a place with lots of other animals. He could sniff them for days and not run out of new scents.
