Puppy Love by the Sea

by Traci Hall

  Just. Friends.

  Chapter Fourteen

  They left the highway and turned into a rural area. She scanned the side of the road until she saw a large green sign. “Turn here,” Sarah said. “Browning Puppies. We made it without seeing a single alligator.”

  “Thank God.” He tapped the steering wheel with his thumb and leaned toward the sign as they passed. “Melissa and Eric Browning.” Franco drove slowly down the dirt road. “Next time, you should drive. In your truck. This is going to ruin my alignment.”

  Next time? “Can you get on the grass?” The luxury automobile wasn’t made for back-country driving.

  “I see the house at the end.” Franco winced as they hit a pothole.

  They parked on the gravel square before a sprawling house built around 1970. Single story. Separate garage and a barn area where a cow grazed. A small vegetable garden struggled under the hot sun, but it seemed well-tended.

  “Nothing flashy,” Sarah observed out loud. It was a good start.

  Franco and Sarah walked up the five stairs to the white concrete porch. Franco knocked, but the door was already being opened.

  “Mr. de Silva,” the woman, maybe late twenties, greeted them and pushed open the screened door. She had a baby on her hip, and a toddler screaming behind her as she looked at Sarah. “Ma’am.”

  “My wife,” Franco said smoothly as he took her hand.

  Sarah coughed to cover her surprise and discretely pinched his thumb. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Excuse the chaos. There just isn’t as much time in the day as I’d like to get it all done, you know? Kids, housework, and with both of our mama’s giving birth at the same time, well, you can just imagine the stress level around here!”

  Mrs. Browning set the baby in a playpen, handed a cracker to the crying child, and wiped her hands on a paper towel after washing them in the kitchen.

  Sarah did her best to keep smiling, but it took all she had to stay put and not run for the front door and Franco’s get-away car. This was domestic bliss?

  “Honey!” The woman poked her head into a bedroom or office off to the side of the hall. “Can you come out here a sec? We’ve got a couple that wants to see the puppies.” She stepped back as her husband came out of the room.

  Dark brown hair lay flat against his head, his clothes were rumpled, but Mr. Browning had a welcoming smile that put Sarah at ease. “Nice to meet you. I’m Eric. You’ve met Melissa?”

  “Sorry,” his wife said in a rush. “I forgot to introduce myself. These days I’m lucky to remember my name.”

  “No problem,” Franco said, his charm in full force as he shook Eric’s hand. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing this chi-poo. The pictures you sent are nice, but it’s hard to tell for sure if it’s what my wife is looking for until we see them up close.”

  Sarah swore vengeance beneath her breath but smiled to the Brownings. “Personality. It all depends on personality. What made you decide to start breeding puppies?”

  “Melissa’s family has always had toy Poodles, but we saw a chi-poo in a pet store and fell in love. Melissa and I had one toy Poodle, Missy, already.”

  “So there are two moms?” Sarah asked. That would explain why there were so many puppies.

  “Yes.” Eric scraped a hand across his stubble chin. “We bought a long hair female Chihuahua, and decided to see what we could come up with.”

  “Experimenting.” Sarah wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but then, how else would you discover what worked best?

  “We decided to get both mamas pregnant at the same time and just get it done all at once.” Melissa tugged her little boy close, sticky fingers from his cracker and all. “There is something to be said about getting it over with.” She chuckled and covered her barely bulging belly with her free hand.

  Sarah smiled, hoping it wasn’t a grimace. Three babies. And puppies? This had serious madhouse potential.

  “I work from home, website stuff.” Eric slipped his arm around Melissa’s waist. “The puppies will bring in enough money so that Melissa can stay home too and we don’t need to worry about daycare. It’s more hectic than a traditional nine to five, but we answer to ourselves. I like that.”

  “Us, too,” Franco said, giving Sarah a doting expression. “Not that there isn’t a headache in owning your own business. However, we’ve found that the rewards outweigh the hard times.”

  Sarah tugged on his arm before he told the couple too much. She had to know if they were treating the dogs well. They practically admitted they were doing it for the money.

  Most reputable breeders started out in the business because they had a favorite puppy and they wanted to raise more of them. This couple shared they were looking at the bottom line. It didn’t mean they were wrong, but Sarah wanted to make sure they weren’t skimping on food or supplies to make ends meet.

  “Where are the puppies?”

  “We’ve got the back room set up for them. Moms and babies. Follow me,” Eric said.

  Melissa picked up the toddler and settled the little boy on her hip. He stuck his thumb in his mouth and stared at her and Franco with wide brown eyes. “He’s shy,” Melissa said, brushing his wispy hair back off his forehead.

  “He’s sweet,” Sarah said, marveling at how kids could be so clingy, but cute. She hadn’t lied when she said she’d felt no ticking biological clock, but something tugged at her heart strings as she watched the maternal kiss Melissa placed on her son’s head.

  “Are you coming?” Franco asked, his eyes narrowed as he watched her watch Melissa. “The puppies are this way. I can hear them.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  He held out his hand and Sarah took it, knowing if she didn’t it would look weird. Franco would owe her for the marriage remarks. Married to Franco? She couldn’t even imagine it.

  “Missy is a black toy Poodle, Farrah is a long hair Chihuahua, brown and white. The puppies are assorted.”

  “Do you have any black puppies?” Bella had requested one, Sarah remembered.

  “Yes. More Poodle looking than Chihuahua. When they were born they looked like guinea pigs, but they’re cuter now.” Eric opened the door to a back bedroom that had windows on two sides, the temperature controlled by a separate unit on the wall.

  “This is really nice,” she said, glancing at Franco.

  “We keep it at 78 degrees. The kids aren’t allowed back here so that the puppies can rest. We’ve tried to make it as sterile as possible.”

  The room was clean, the puppy training pads in two places on the thin outdoor carpeted flooring. There were two large open crates that made it seem like a den for each mama. It must have been feeding time, since both mothers had a line of babies at her belly.

  “Do they switch off?” Franco asked. His hair curled at his neck, his brow furrowed in curiosity. “Brothers and sisters?”

  “Every once in a while, we get a crossover, but for the most part, they stick with their mom and littermates.” Eric leaned down to pick up a white and black puppy with tufts of hair. Mostly Chihuahua but with a larger Poodle nose, it was cute. “This guy likes to travel. The moms don’t mind, surprisingly enough.”

  “How old are they?” Sarah asked, remembering that the file said six weeks.

  “Six weeks, three days,” Eric answered, tucking the little guy next to his siblings. “We can’t release them until 8 weeks old. It isn’t the ideal situation, unless you already have pets at home?”

  Sarah shook her head, appreciating his integrity. “What do you recommend? With no other pets.”

  “Eight weeks at the earliest. Nine would be better. We can get a start on potty training here. Would you be walking them?”

  “Condo living. We have a piece of grass but it isn’t fenced.” Franco eyed the two different litters. “They look really healthy. The mamas seem happy, too.”

  “They’re pure hybrids. I mean, both the parents for each are registered full breeds with the AKC.” Eric scooted a s
traggler back to the others. “If that matters to you, or not. We’re asking 1000.00 per puppy, which includes shots and a veterinary visit of your choice. If there is anything the matter, we will exchange the puppy or give you a refund.”

  Franco rocked back on his heels. “You seem sure of your puppies.”

  Sarah hid her surprise, keeping her eyes on the roly-poly fur-babies. That was an excellent guarantee.

  She lifted her head as Eric spoke. “We’ve been using a local vet.” Eric seemed way too young to have a puppy farm and a million kids. “He’s really taught us a lot, approving the studs we used.”

  Sarah nodded, impressed. Once a year wasn’t a lot of money, but it beat paying daycare. And the couple seemed to care, if this back room was anything to judge by.

  Would Eric get greedy and try to breed the dogs too quickly? Sarah thought of how to ask the question without sounding too much like, well, an animal control officer.

  Franco came to her rescue. “When will you have more puppies?”

  “The vet says they should only have puppies once a year, and only three times for a life span. But by then, Melissa wants to go back to school and finish her degree. She’s going to be a teacher.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Franco said.

  Sarah nodded. They were doing it right, anyway. If Dr. Wilton signed off on them, she would feel good recommending the Brownings and their chi-poos. “Can I hold the black one?”

  Eric leaned down and picked up the puppy. “Sure. Do you feel her calling to you?”

  “I don’t know about that,” Sarah said, smiling. The last thing she wanted was another pet. “But she’s pretty darn cute.” Black eyes, button nose, little pink tongue. Puppies had a new smell that couldn’t be bottled. They brought an instant feeling of warmth and love.

  Why was she feeling so sappy?

  The puppy licked her cheek, tail wagging with excitement. Sarah’s heart filled. Maybe one more dog wouldn’t be terrible...she met Franco’s mysterious gaze. What would it be like to have a man like him in her life?

  A warm trickle over Sarah’s hand brought her back to the moment. She looked for the closest pee pad and set the puppy down.

  Franco’s chest heaved with silent laughter.

  Eric’s throat turned red and he led Sarah to a small sink in the attached bathroom. “Sorry about that. Hazard of the trade, I think.”

  Sarah washed up, laughing at herself for thinking she and Franco made a good team. Franco looked good. Mr. Cool and Charming. She was a disaster. As usual.

  Franco wore a neutral expression and had his hands behind his back as she came out of the bathroom. “Does that little darling have your name on it?”

  Sarah shook her head. It would serve him right if she said yes. How would he like an untrained puppy loose on his leather seats?

  “Let’s talk about it on the way home, honey.” She brushed by him toward the door Eric held open.

  “If you can’t decide, we can take them all. I want you to be happy.”

  Was that his signal that he wanted them for the business? Or just how he operated? Can’t decide on one—so take them all? Sarah sniffed. Money did not buy everything. She should ask for them, right now. His seats would be ruined. Married. Happy. Really?

  Eric followed them out, shutting the door behind them. “Well, if you decide, let us know. You seem like real nice people.”

  Franco hooked his arm through Sarah’s. “I think we’d like the black one.”

  They stopped again in the kitchen, where Melissa had the baby in a high chair. The toddler sat at the table eating a banana dipped in peanut butter. Melissa wore an apron around her middle and stirred something delicious on the stove.

  Eric went over and smelled the soup pot. “I can’t wait for lunch. You two want to stay and join us?”

  Franco’s nose was slightly flared as if he could separate the spices from the air. “We have to get back to the city, but may I ask what you are making?”

  Melissa’s cheeks flushed. “Vegetable beef stew, that’s all. Nothing fancy, but we grow our own tomatoes and onions.”

  “It reminds me of my mother’s soup,” Franco said.

  Sarah knew Franco could buy and sell this couple’s farm ten times over, but he was sincere in his compliments and not the least bit judgmental. She liked that about him.

  Sarah had to admit that she liked a lot of things about him.

  “I make a mean corn muffin,” Eric said.

  Franco took his wallet from his back pocket. “I’d like to put a deposit down on the black puppy. We can come get her in the next two weeks?”

  Eric exchanged a glance with his wife. “You don’t have to put a deposit down. We’ll hold her for you.”

  “Which one did you choose?” Melissa asked. She handed the baby in the high chair another small piece of banana. From what Sarah could tell, the baby preferred putting it in her hair rather than eating any of it.

  “They like Farrah’s all black one.”

  “Oh yes,” Melissa said with an agreeable nod, “she’s pretty.”

  Sarah was starting to feel bad about not being honest with this couple. They seemed very nice. “We should go, Franco. And let these people get on with their day.”

  Franco nodded, setting five hundred dollars on the counter. “I’ll be in touch. So the mom is the Chihuahua, and the sire is the Poodle?”

  “Yes,” Eric said, walking them toward the front door as Sarah waved good-bye to the kids. “Black.”

  They stepped out to the porch and the gleaming Ferrari in the sunshine. Eric looked from Franco to Sarah and asked, “What do you do, again?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Franco burst out laughing as soon as they reached the highway. “You should have seen the look on your face when that puppy peed on you.”

  “And you think that’s funny?” Sarah rolled her eyes and sat back against the leather seat. “Nice husband you are. What was that all about, anyway? A little warning would have been good. I thought I was going to scream.”

  “Being married to me would make you scream?” He studied her profile as she stared straight ahead, her mouth lifting in a reluctant smile. He never thought he’d even joke about marriage again. Seeing the Brownings in action made him realize what he’d been missing. What he’d expected from his own marriage but had been lacking all along.

  “Don’t take it personally,” Sarah said. “And three kids under the age of four? What are they thinking?”

  “It is no accident,” Franco observed, having secretly enjoyed the rising panic in Sarah as she realized Melissa was pregnant. Not much shook Sarah. “She’s going to be a teacher. They breed puppies. They know what they’re doing.”

  “The sign did say they were professional breeders.” Sarah smacked her palm against the door and snickered. “I just didn’t realize they were putting it to practice.”

  “I liked them.” Franco checked the rearview mirror, then the side mirror before switching lanes. “Are you hungry? It would have been rude, yes, to stay for lunch? Though the soup smelled good. Fresh ingredients make all the difference.”

  “We could have had a taste. I don’t think they would have minded.” Sarah smoothed her hands down her bare shins. “Did you see that baby with the banana?”

  He’d seen Sarah shudder as she avoided getting too close to the high chair. Chuckling, Franco asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to have a dozen babies?”

  “No.” Sarah’s face paled beneath her golden tan. “My job keeps me way too busy. Emotionally draining and all of that. That house was chaos!”

  Franco would bet big money that Sarah Murphy had the maternal gene waiting dormant inside her. Even if she didn’t want to admit it. “How about lunch?”

  Sarah put her hand to her stomach. “Sounds good. What are you in the mood for?”

  You, he thought. And anything that allows me to be close to you. “Italian? I know a place on the way back.”

  “Sure,” she agreed with a shr
ug. “I’m not picky.”

  She wasn’t. From what Franco had seen of Sarah, she was easy-going, unless there was an animal involved, and then her fighting gloves came on. She enjoyed her life and didn’t let the hard knocks keep her down.

  “I found this restaurant by accident,” Franco said, signaling to get off the highway. “When I was picking up a batch of Maltese puppies. I ended up with a flat tire because the roads weren’t paved. Well, I’ll let you be the judge of the pasta. I hope the place is still there.” Franco rested his hand on the bare skin just above her knee, unable to resist touching her. Despite the hot day, her skin was cool thanks to the air conditioning in his car.

  “Me, too.” Sarah swallowed audibly and refused to look at him. She didn’t shove his hand away, which he took as a good sign. She needed to get used to him touching her…he’d take it slow, he thought with a smile.

  Franco turned on the program in the car, asking for the address to La Vida Loca.

  “You’re taking me to The Crazy Life?” Sarah turned toward him as she asked the question, one dimple flashing. “My life is crazy enough, my friend.”

  “I did not choose the name. The woman who owns the place married an Italian who taught her everything she knows. She’s from the swamps, she said.”

  “The swamps? Like, Louisiana?”

  “No, no,” Franco said, turning into the dirt parking lot. A red building with faded paint, white-trimmed windows and a neon sign beckoned. “The Cypress Swamp.”

  “A woman from the local swamp makes the best pasta you’ve ever had?”

  “Maybe not the best, but very good. The sign says it’s still open.” He’d had mussels steamed in wine tossed with homemade pasta. It seemed simple, but it had been amazing.

  Not as amazing as kissing Sarah, which was the bar everything else came to these days. The car ride, intimate, and getting to know one another, the pretending to be husband and wife—it got to him. And he knew she felt it too, which made it doubly hard to deny or resist.

  The fact that she thought they were only friends?

  Insanity.