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Wild Iris Ridge (Hope's Crossing)

Page 17

by RaeAnne Thayne


  “Glad to help. If it’s okay with you, I would like to take a couple of pictures of these little darlings and send them to Riley McKnight at the police station so he can start looking into leads about where they came from. Whoever left them in that Dumpster could be facing animal cruelty charges.”

  “Of course,” Lucy answered. “I didn’t even think about that.”

  “Riley will probably want to take statements from both of you.”

  Considering he talked to the Hope’s Crossing chief of police just about every day in connection with work, Brendan didn’t think that would be a problem.

  After Elizabeth left, Lucy’s sister and Faith pulled the puppies out of the crate.

  “Is our puppy a boy or a girl?” Faith asked.

  He wanted to tell her there was no “our puppy” but he didn’t see the point. He couldn’t imagine yanking the puppy out of Faith’s arms and handing her over to some stranger. Not when it was obvious his kids were already attached.

  Maybe it wouldn’t be such a terrible thing. Yes, it would add to the general chaos, especially for the next few months while the puppy was so young, but they were all in a much better place than they had been even six months earlier. They had picked up the pieces of their shattered world and were moving on with life.

  Faith was almost eight. The responsibility would be good for her and might help her take on all those new challenges she had been avoiding since Jessie died.

  “She’s a girl, if that’s the one you wanted,” Lucy said.

  “What are you going to call her while you’re taking care of her?” Crystal asked.

  “I don’t know. I’ve always wanted a dog named Princess.”

  He tried to imagine standing at the door calling for Princess to come get her supper and just couldn’t wrap his head around it.

  “What about you?” Faith asked.

  “Max,” the girl said promptly, as if she’d been thinking about it since the minute they opened that Dumpster to the little rat-squeak sounds.

  “I like the name Max,” Carter said. “I have a friend at school named Max. He has really stinky farts.”

  “Carter!” Brendan exclaimed.

  “What? He does!”

  “You don’t need to tell everyone about it, especially when there are ladies present.”

  The particular ladies in question were both hiding their laughs, Crystal behind the little dog and Lucy by turning her face away.

  “Sorry,” Brendan muttered in an aside to Lucy.

  “I love that kid,” she answered in the same low voice.

  “Let’s just hope this Max doesn’t take after the other Max,” Crystal said as Elizabeth came back in carrying two packets of information and two cases of formula.

  They scheduled follow-up appointments in two weeks to begin the process of giving the puppies their necessary shots and then Brendan carried both cases of formula out to the vehicles.

  “You never made it to the grocery store,” Lucy said. “Would you like us to pick up your list?”

  Drat. He had completely forgotten that—along with dinner. How was he going to drag two kids and a tiny puppy to the grocery store now?

  “That would be great.”

  “Let me see if I remember,” she said. “Milk, eggs and bread. Is that right, Carter?”

  “Yep.” His son beamed at her, and Brendan felt a weird little tug in his chest.

  He needed to stop this right now. Lucy wasn’t at all the woman for him. That was the reason he hadn’t pursued their fledgling attraction more than a decade ago, and as far as he could see, nothing had changed.

  Yes, maybe he had been contemplating dating again; maybe the time was right to start dipping his toe in that dating pool he’d been thinking about earlier.

  He missed having a woman in his life. It wasn’t just the sex—though Lord knows, he missed that. He sometimes sat in his empty house in the middle of the night aching for the softness of a woman’s curves next to his, for the sweet sound of feminine laughter, for a tender touch and a loving smile.

  Lucy Drake wasn’t that woman. Life might have temporarily derailed her career train, but he knew it was only a matter of time before she yanked all the cars back on the tracks and took off again.

  “What do you think we should name her, Dad?” Faith asked from the backseat, distracting him from his grim thoughts.

  “I don’t know. How about Agnes or Gertrude? Or maybe Prudence?”

  “Hmm. Those might work,” she said after a long pause, too softhearted to laugh at his tongue-in-cheek suggestions.

  He felt extraordinarily lucky to have this girl for a daughter, who had definitely inherited her sweetness from her mother’s side.

  “What else did you like besides Princess?”

  “I like Iron Man,” Carter said. “Or what about Darth Vader?”

  “Those are boy names,” Faith answered. “We could name her Hermione or Princess Leia.”

  Again, with the princess. “We don’t really have to decide tonight.”

  “We have to call her something.” Faith’s brow furrowed as she studied the little creature in her arms.

  “How about Stinky?” he suggested.

  “Dad. Be serious!”

  “Okay. Okay.”

  In all his life, he had never named a dog, he realized with a start. During his childhood, his family always had at least one or two dogs around the house, but it seemed his siblings had generally taken over naming rights. He was the third oldest and Drew and Patrick had always seemed to win the naming lottery.

  “What about, uh—” he glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the flowers adorning the neckline of Faith’s favorite shirt “—Daisy.”

  “Oh! It’s perfect! I love it. We’ll call her Daisy! Hi, Daisy. Do you like your new name?”

  The dog made its little mewling sound that wasn’t quite a bark yet, as if in agreement.

  “She likes it,” Carter exclaimed. “Hi, Daisy. Hi, girl. You’re such a cute puppy. Yes, you are.”

  Brendan sighed as he pulled into the driveway. Yeah. Like it or not, he wasn’t getting rid of this dog anytime soon.

  “First order of business is finding her a bed and some old towels to sleep in, then let’s see if we can get her to eat some of this food.”

  They were in the middle of it all twenty minutes later when the doorbell rang.

  He answered and found Lucy on the other side of the door, her arms loaded down with bags. He smelled something delicious—besides Lucy—and his stomach rumbled at the reminder that they still hadn’t eaten dinner.

  “What’s this? I thought I told you I only needed milk, bread and eggs.”

  “I know that’s what you said. But since we hadn’t had time to fix dinner yet, we figured you hadn’t, either. We picked up an extra rotisserie chicken for you and some pasta salad from the deli. If you’ve already grabbed something tonight, you can always save it for tomorrow. I’m sure you’re well aware that rotisserie chicken can be repurposed in casseroles or chicken salad sandwiches or enchiladas or whatever.”

  She carried the bags inside and to the kitchen, setting them down on the counter and started pulling items out to put in the refrigerator.

  “Thank you,” he managed through his shock. He couldn’t figure out this woman. Every time he thought he had her pegged, she surprised him again.

  He had always figured she was tough, driven, ambitious, but then she had these moments of nurturing kindness that seemed at odds to that other image.

  Maybe she was all of those things. Why did one have to exclude the other?

  “You’re a lifesaver,” he said. “Carter, in particular, is about ready to gnaw through the kitchen cabinets.”

  She smiled as she extracted the chicken from the grocer
y bag. “I’m sorry you were dragged into the whole puppy thing. I know it wasn’t on your radar right now.”

  “Same goes. We were both unwilling victims.”

  “They are cute. You have to admit.”

  She was cute, with those dark curls and the warm green eyes he wanted to sink into.

  “I guess,” he muttered. “If you like little fur-faced, big-eyed, shaggy-eared puppies.”

  She smiled. “You’re right. Who would? I guess we’d better take our ugly puppy home and see how much damage he can do to a historic home.”

  Out of nowhere, he wanted to kiss her again—just reach right out, wrap her softness in his arms and hold on tight. The need burned through him and he had to grip the kitchen counter instead. He was going to have to work a hell of a lot harder to keep himself under control or he was going to find himself in big trouble here.

  “Good night,” he said, his voice gruff. “Thanks for the chicken. I guess we’ll have to arrange a few dates now.”

  She gave him a startled look.

  “For the puppies, I mean,” he said quickly. “You know. Playdates.”

  “Right. Yes. Dr Lynde said they need to socialize with each other, didn’t she? Well, you know where I live. Any time you want Crystal or me to babysit, either the puppy or the kids, just call.”

  “Thanks.”

  She waved and headed for the door, leaving him to breathe in the scent of her that lingered in the air.

  What would Lucy think if she knew he was beginning to weave some fairly inappropriate fantasies about her? She would probably want to rip his head off. She didn’t like him, right? She had only spent a decade proving it.

  On the other hand, she had kissed him back. Pretty passionately, as he recalled—which he did, all too frequently.

  What was he supposed to do with that?

  “Dad!” Faith called in a panic-stricken voice. “Daisy just peed on the floor! Help!”

  He sighed. This was real life. His kids, his job, the chaos he called life, and now a pee-happy puppy.

  “Let me grab some paper towels. I’ll be right there.”

  He yanked a big wad off the roll and headed out to deal with the latest mess in a life that suddenly seemed full of them.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THE PUPPY’S ARRIVAL heralded a monumental shift in Crystal’s attitude.

  The day after they found Max, Lucy returned from a quick sunrise run through the quiet back street of Hope’s Crossing to find her sister in the kitchen flipping pancakes while Max played in a box near her feet.

  “Good morning.” Lucy reached into the refrigerator for a water bottle. “I’m surprised to see you awake.”

  “Morning. Max woke me like an hour ago, yipping like crazy. He wouldn’t go back to sleep so I finally decided to get up and feed him and make breakfast for us.”

  “Wow. Thanks. It looks delicious.”

  Who knew Crystal had any skills whatsoever in the kitchen? Lucy certainly hadn’t had a clue.

  “You’re welcome. I’ve got a ton of pancakes. I really hope you’re hungry.”

  Lucy thought of the brutal, hilly run she had just finished. She didn’t enjoy running much but she did enjoy the endorphin high she found from having done it and she was much more productive and happy when she was fit.

  Her plan had been to have a banana and a Greek yogurt for breakfast—why add more calories after she had just killed herself to burn a bunch?—but she didn’t want to disappoint her sister, who had gone to a great deal of effort for her.

  “I’m starving,” she lied. “It all smells delicious.”

  “Great! If you want to sit down, it’s almost ready.”

  Lucy pulled the yogurt out of the fridge—at least she could have a little protein with her empty carbs—and sat at the big oak kitchen table.

  A moment later, Crystal slid a plate loaded with more pancakes than Lucy could eat in a month in front of her and then sat down across the table from her.

  “Mmm. Smells good,” she said. She tried a bite and just about fell off her chair.

  “Oh, my word,” she exclaimed. “These are fantastic. That can’t be from a mix.”

  They were light, fluffy, with a little hint of something tropical that melded perfectly with the maple syrup.

  “I couldn’t find any mix in the pantry so I used a recipe I’ve tried before. They’ve got a little bit of coconut and almond extract in them. Those are the secret ingredients.”

  “These are fantastic. Seriously good. I’m not just saying that, Crys. You could get a job at the Center of Hope.”

  Her sister looked pleased and flattered. “What’s the Center of Hope?”

  “The restaurant Brendan’s dad owns downtown. It’s sort of the town gathering spot. Everybody goes there for the great food and all the best gossip in Hope’s Crossing.”

  “Gossip in Hope’s Crossing? Like who stole somebody’s newspaper or who else died of boredom this week?”

  “You’d be surprised. This town has seen its share of juicy scandals. And you can find out about all of them at the Center of Hope Café.”

  “I think I saw that. Is it kind of near the bookstore where we went last night?”

  “Across the street and down a little.” She took another bite of the pancakes that melted in her mouth. She could eat these every single day of her life—and probably wouldn’t be able to fit through the door if she did, forget about jogging up and down the foothills around Hope’s Crossing.

  “I mean it. Dermot would love this recipe. You should give it to him.”

  Instead of the sullen expression she had worn since her arrival, Crystal seemed to glow at the praise. “It’s no big deal. They’re only pancakes.”

  “You should let Dermot be the judge of that. Type it down and we can email it to him.”

  “Assuming I get to have the Wi-Fi password today.”

  Lucy smiled. She wasn’t naive enough to think all her troubles with Crystal were over because of one good morning and a cute puppy, but she was going to enjoy the peace while she had it. “I think we don’t have to worry about that today. What’s on your agenda, besides totally rocking the cakes?”

  Crystal shrugged. “Nothing, really. I was going to play with Max for a while and then maybe Skype my friend Devin, and then I remembered she’s in school until this afternoon. I never thought being expelled would turn out to be so boring.”

  “We’ve got to come up with a working schedule. It’s time we start working on your schoolwork.”

  “Schoolwork? I was expelled! I can’t go back.”

  “You can’t go back this school year. Your father has directed all your teachers to email me with your assignments and lesson plans so you can keep up with your classes, that way you won’t have to repeat the tenth grade next year. You don’t want that, do you?”

  “I guess not. But I don’t want to do schoolwork, either.”

  “Life is full of hard decisions, kid. Sometimes you just have to deal. After we’re done with your studies, I would appreciate your help. I’ve got a lot of work to do around here.”

  “What kind of work?” Crystal asked warily.

  “I have to clear out a lot of the old clutter in the rooms so we can start remodeling them for the bed and breakfast. Who knows? We might find some fun treasures. Will you help me?”

  “Do I have a choice?” Crystal asked.

  “Not really.”

  “In that case, sure. I’d love to help you.”

  Lucy laughed, appreciating her sister’s dry sense of humor. They shared that, at least.

  “I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to having my own minion to help me out. Especially one who cooks me delicious breakfasts.”

  “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.”


  The puppy whined at that moment and Crystal picked him up and went to fetch the supplies to feed him the formula.

  The morning served as a vivid contrast to the first few days after her sister’s arrival. Crystal complained a little about the homework Lucy set out for her, but it seemed halfhearted and more because she thought it was expected of her.

  After the initial muttering, her sister hurried through the work in less than an hour. When Lucy checked it, she found the algebra equations impressively neat and precise—and correct—and the short essay she wrote insightful and well-done.

  She had a sneaking suspicion her sister’s failing grades were simply another act of rebellion against her parents’ expectations. She and Crystal were apparently alike in this, too. At some point during their remaining days together, she would have to sit down and have a good talk with Crystal about all the time Lucy had wasted in high school trying to hide her intelligence.

  Not today, however. They had a schedule. With Max tucked into his box under Crystal’s arm, they headed up to the third floor to begin work on clearing out the house.

  They started with a good-size bedroom facing east that Annabelle had always used as a craft room. It was filled to the brim with yarn, folded fabric swatches, boxes of beads.

  “Some of this stuff is really retro,” Crystal said, after they started digging into the drawers of the storage units around the walls.

  “Annabelle has probably been collecting her whole life. Most of it is probably older than I am.”

  “Maybe you could use some of the fabric and notions for pillows and curtains and stuff around the house.”

  Oh, Annabelle would have loved that! “What a good idea! Let’s box it all up and we’ll take it over to Genevieve Beaumont. She’s the designer helping me with the house. She might be able to look through it and find some possibilities.”

  “What happened to your job at NexGen?”

  They were carrying yet another load of boxes down the stairs—why, again, had she bothered with an early-morning workout?—when Crystal sprang the question at her.

  She tensed, that sense of failure and loss pressing down on her again. “Why do you ask?”

 

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