Three Dog Night (The Dogmothers Book 2)

by Roxanne St Claire

  Maybe the idea of family wasn’t a dead end. Maybe she could learn about her history, parents, and grandparents. And maybe, if she spent enough time around the Santorinis and Kilcannons and Mahoneys…maybe…

  Don’t go there, she warned herself. For one thing, it would be falling in love with Alex for the wrong reasons. But even if this very young, budding romance evolved, what if it ended, leaving her alone again? With one more lost family?

  Was she crazy? Why would she even take a chance like that?

  “Grace.” Cassie put her hand on Grace’s arm, her tone clear that she’d been trying to get Grace’s attention.

  “Oh God, I’m sorry. I was zoned out…planning this event. What?”

  “We just passed the wedding store. Park anywhere.” Cassie gave a squeeze. “I feel ya, sister.”

  But she doubted Cassie did. Still, she put away her thoughts and headed into the hushed coolness of a formal wedding and dress shop, greeted by an attractive redheaded woman who held out two glasses of champagne.

  “Ms. Santorini and…” She lifted a strawberry-colored brow. “Best friend or sister? Based on the difference in your looks, I’m saying best friend.”

  They looked at each other and gave a quick laugh. Grace opened her mouth to set the record straight, but Cassie threw an arm around her and gave a typical squeeze. “For today, she’s my sister.” Then she winked at Grace. “Someday. Who knows?”

  A scary, tempting, delicious zing shot through her. Without giving it much thought, Grace put her own arm around Cassie and squeezed, not really able to remember the last time she opened her heart even a crack for a deep friendship. The few friendships she’d had growing up had always ended, so she’d avoided any as an adult.

  But this woman? This dark-eyed, quick-witted, big-hearted Greek goddess who exuded everything Grace ever wanted to be? Yes, she could be a friend…or a sister.

  “For today,” Grace agreed, hugging with one hand and lifting the champagne with the other. “We are sisters.”

  “I am Penelope, and I will be your sister, too. Now, do we want froufrou fem, sexy sleek, or don’t-give-a-damn hippie cool?”

  Cassie laughed and looked at Grace. “I have no idea. What do you think?”

  Grace bit her lip and looked up and down at Cassie’s beautiful feminine figure, glossy black hair, and ebony eyes. “You need a gorgeous dress that suits a bride, but isn’t a cliché. Something with a splash of the unexpected, a touch of traditional, and a neckline that will make Braden Mahoney cry.”

  Penelope hooted and grabbed Grace’s hand. “Oh, honey, you have the job. And I know just where to start. This way, ladies. Cassie, there’s your dressing room. Grace, there’s your viewing perch. I’ll start the dress party.”

  The next two hours passed in a blur of satin and lace and a feeling of comfort, connection, security, and joy. There was laughter from down in the gut, a tear from deep in the heart, and the dizzying new sensation of being connected at the soul. It was two solid hours of whatever God had had in mind when he invented the idea of a sister. And nothing had ever felt quite like it in Grace’s entire life.

  * * *

  Alex spent some time in the winery kitchen and then gave up cooking to sit on the terrace and watch Braden miraculously teach Jelly Bean to walk puppies on a leash, which involved a lot of running after Bitsy and plenty of peanut butter.

  But mostly, Alex checked his watch and waited for Garrett to arrive with the puppies’ owner.

  “How’s he going to know if this so-called owner is legit?” he asked Braden, giving voice to the question burning in his head.

  Braden eyed him from his position on one knee in front of Jelly Bean, holding the end of Jack’s leash in one hand and a spoonful of peanut butter in the other. “Not too many people are going to show up who don’t have a legitimate claim, but I suppose it could happen. My guess is we’ll know by how the puppies respond to the mother and how she takes to them.”

  “Will she be nursing still?”

  “I guess it depends on how long these pups have been separated from her. If they were out on their own for a few weeks and they were her only pups, I imagine she wouldn’t. I know at the fire station, when someone’s claiming a lost dog or cat, we can always tell how they respond to what we’ve named it. They get really put off if you call little Fluffypants something like Henry.”

  “I’ll have to watch for that,” Alex said.

  “And, if I know Garrett,” Braden continued, “he’ll be eyeing the owners more than the dog. He’s a good judge of character, so trust him.”

  Gertie meandered over to Alex and looked up, begging for love.

  “C’mere, little girl.” He scooped her up. “Are you tired from training?” She licked his neck and nestled deeper against him. “Missing your mom?”

  Braden looked up. “And if it is the pups’ real mom, what’s your plan?”

  “I’m going to ask if the puppies can stay through the big event. Maybe invite the owners to attend and meet the celebrities. Then I’ll gently break the news to Grace.” Very gently.

  In his pocket, his phone buzzed, showing a text from Garrett.

  I’m on my way in, and I think the owner is right behind me. Meet us in front with the pups.

  “Here we go, baby,” he whispered to Gertie, giving her a little squeeze. “Hope they have hearts.” Then he gestured to Braden, who was already up and leashing Jack. “Let’s go.”

  Still carrying Gertie, with Jack and Bitsy on leashes that Jelly Bean held in his mouth, they all went to the front of the winery to meet the new arrivals. Alex was only a little surprised how hard his heart kicked his ribs, because he so wanted this to be a mistake.

  The wrong mother. The wrong owners—or at least people who’d understand that these puppies had a family and a home. Maybe they’d leave the mother with them.

  Because if Grace came home, and the puppies were gone, she was going to be knocked for a loop. He probably should have warned her that this could be happening, but she seemed so happy to be going out with Cassie to shop for wedding dresses. He didn’t want to mar that experience for her.

  Garrett was already out of his screaming-yellow Jeep and walking toward the winery when Alex and Braden stepped outside. He turned and pointed to a red pickup rumbling into the lot.

  “I’ve talked to this guy by phone,” he said as Alex came closer. “His name’s Marty Casper, and he’s a breeder from outside of Winston-Salem. He says one of his Labs gave birth about a month ago to six puppies, and these are three of them.”

  “And what? He lost them, and they walked damn near a hundred miles to this winery?” Alex snorted in disbelief.

  “I guess we’ll hear what he has to say.” Garrett stuck his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket and watched the truck, his dark eyes narrowing in distrust. “Could be an unethical dog breeder? Puppy mill? I don’t know. I’m not handing those puppies over unless I’m one hundred percent confident this guy’s the owner and he’s brought their mother.”

  “And you think you’ll know that?” Alex asked.

  Garrett shot him a look. “Want to help?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’m going to try to check to see if the dog he brings is chipped, without telling the owner. You distract him with the puppies, and I just need to run the reader over the dog he says is the mother.”

  “Chip or no chip, will you let him take the puppies?”

  “If this feels like a real family reunion—and believe me, we’ll be able to tell—then we might have to, so brace yourself for that. If he brings pictures of the puppies, some kind of paper trail, like a vet record, yeah. If not, then we’ll keep the dogs and tell him to provide proof. Either way, if the dog’s chipped, we’ll have some information.”

  Nodding, Alex rubbed Gertie’s little head while she pressed her nose into his neck as if she sensed something was up.

  The battered pickup stopped about fifty feet away, close enough for them to hear a deep dog b
ark from the back cab. A bone-thin man in a ball cap and sunglasses climbed out, lifting the front of a filthy T-shirt with a faded Tabasco bottle on it to wipe sweat from his face. After a minute, he opened the back door, and almost immediately a large black Labrador jumped out and trotted past him.

  Jack and Bitsy responded instantly, tugging at their leashes and barking, but Gertie didn’t stop her tongue bath of Alex’s neck.

  “You know this lady?” Alex whispered to the dog, gently turning her head. “Is this your momma, little girl?”

  She didn’t move. She stared at the other dog, silent, still, and even a little scared. Jack and Bitsy barked as the dog approached them at a fairly rapid clip.

  “Sugar!” the man called. “Stop!”

  Sugar ignored the order and continued right to the pups, even as Braden bent over and lifted them. The bigger dog looked up, snarled, and barked loudly. She was black from head to toe, a color that didn’t appear on one inch of the puppies’ bodies.

  Jelly Bean replied with a bark, too, but his sounded more like a warning.

  So what the hell did all this mean?

  Alex walked closer to join Garrett, who went to greet the man.

  “I’m Marty,” the man said. “You Garrett Kilcannon?”

  Garrett nodded and gestured to Alex. “This gentleman and the woman who owns this winery have been taking care of the puppies,” he explained.

  A few feet away, the barking continued, with Sugar trying to get to the puppies. Braden, and Jelly Bean, held them off.

  “She won’t hurt them,” Marty called. “Just wants to get reacquainted.”

  “When did she whelp?” Garrett asked.

  “Whenever they were born,” the guy said with the raspy laugh of a heavy smoker. “’Bout six weeks, I reckon.”

  “I’m going to go look at her,” Garrett said, heading toward Sugar. Marty started to follow, but Alex stepped in front of him, purposely blocking his way.

  “This is Gertie,” he said, showing the dog to Marty.

  The other man didn’t react to the name at all. And Gertie turned from him and shoved her snout against Alex’s neck. Marty took a step to follow Garrett, but Alex blocked him again. “She doesn’t seem to remember you,” he said.

  “She’s a pup,” the other man said, his voice rich with condescension.

  “But no recognition,” he said, refusing to let the man see past him just in case Garrett was trying to get a read on the dog’s chip. “Isn’t that strange?”

  “What’s strange is that my puppies are out here.”

  “How did you lose them, anyway?”

  The man’s rugged jaw locked as if he were trying not to lose his cool. “They were stolen,” he said, looking hard at Alex. “You want to tell me how you came to have them?”

  “They were abandoned on this property.”

  Marty shuttered his eyes as if he didn’t believe that and took a wide sidestep closer to where Braden and Garrett stood with the two puppies and Sugar. Garrett glanced at Alex with a surreptitious flick of his brows, as if to say he’d successfully read a chip.

  The older dog had stopped barking, and Braden gently eased Jack and Bitsy to the ground, holding their leashes tight and short. Jelly Bean stayed right next to them, his eyes on the new arrival.

  Sugar leaned over, sniffed Jack, then walked around to get a whiff of Jelly Bean’s butt.

  “Poor things,” Marty mumbled. “Been away from Mom awhile.”

  “You have pictures?” Alex asked. “Of their birth? With Sugar?”

  He got another deathly glare from Marty. “What the hell do I look like? An Instagrammer?”

  Garrett stepped closer to Marty and Alex, but kept his eye on the interaction among the dogs. “Most people take pictures of newborns,” he said.

  “Babies. Not puppies.” Marty looked from one to the other. “You telling me you don’t believe I own those pups?”

  “I’m not sure,” Garrett said, drawing the words out and giving Alex a real twinge of hope that he wouldn’t have to give up the puppies. “They aren’t exactly bonded.”

  Marty mumbled a curse and marched to the dog. “Sugar,” he said gruffly. “That’s your kid.” He reached down to turn the dog’s head toward Jack, and she took a wary step backward.

  “How about this guy?” he asked, trying again to make Sugar look at Bitsy.

  “That’s a girl,” Alex said.

  Marty just shrugged. “Come on, Sugar.”

  Sugar walked away from him and the puppies, sniffing the ground and following a scent on the asphalt parking lot.

  “Sugar!” Marty hollered. “Get back here!”

  “Hey.” Garrett put a hand up. “Not necessary. I don’t think these dogs are related. If they are, this reunion is a little strange.”

  Marty turned his head and spit on the ground. “They’ve been separated for three weeks. She mighta forgot her offspring.”

  “Then she’s one darn unusual dog,” Garrett said, bending over to pick up Bitsy and carry her closer to Sugar, but the bigger dog backed away and barked, heading to Braden to sniff the hand that had been holding a spoonful of peanut butter for the past hour.

  “She goes nuts for treats,” Marty told them. “She isn’t going to care one whit about those dogs if she thinks there’s food somewhere.”

  Did he really expect them to believe that? Alex and Garrett shared a look, confirming that both men had the same thought.

  “We called this one Lulu.” Marty bent over to pet Jack. “She looks just like her father.”

  “She’s a he,” Alex said.

  “They were too young to know that when they were taken from me,” Marty said defensively.

  “And a breeder would know that,” Garrett added, his arms folded as he stared at the man.

  Alex almost breathed an audible sigh of relief.

  “That’s BS, pal,” the man said. “You obviously don’t know shit about dogs.”

  Garrett stepped closer. “Look, if you can’t provide pictures of these puppies when they were born, or even shots of any others in the litter, and some legal proof of ownership, like a receipt from a vet, I’m not going to—”

  “How much?” Marty asked, looking from one man to the next. “What’s the price, boys?”

  Alex felt his fingers tighten in Gertie’s soft fur. “We don’t have a price, Marty,” he ground out.

  “Look, they’re obviously mutts and not a purebred like Sugar, but they have sentimental value to…my daughter.”

  Not a chance. “These dogs aren’t going anywhere but to their mother.” Alex put his hand on Sugar’s head, leaning over to let the bigger dog have a sniff of the puppy he still held tight. Sugar turned away and went back to Braden’s pocket. “Which this dog isn’t.”

  Marty stared him down one more time, then looked at Braden and Garrett. Finally, he shoved his sunglasses on his face and snapped his fingers at Sugar. “I’ll see if my daughter took any pictures,” he said. “Let’s go, Sugar.”

  When the dog didn’t move, he stomped his foot. “Sugar!”

  Garrett cringed at that and put a strong hand on Sugar’s head. “Come on, girl,” he said gently, with the dog-whispering calm that all the Kilcannons seemed to possess.

  She turned and followed Marty to the truck, her tail and head down as if she were still sniffing. Or just sad.

  “Least-interested mother I’ve ever seen,” Garrett said under his breath as Marty reached his truck.

  “Plus, that guy is an asshole.”

  “That, too. But I read the chip. I’ll check the name and address of the owner. I can tell you this much, Sugar is not their mother.”

  Braden reached down to rub Jelly Bean’s head. “Good protection work, JB. You love these little puppies, don’t you?”

  Alex didn’t know about Jelly Bean, but he loved the puppies, and he couldn’t wait for Grace to come back so he could celebrate this dodged bullet.

  Chapter Seventeen

  After stepping in
to play the role of “sister” and then hearing how close she’d come to losing the puppies, Grace wasn’t sure her day could get any better. Garrett called Alex late that afternoon and informed him that the chip reader did link a black Lab to an owner named Martin Casper, although the name listed for the dog was Maggie, not Sugar. They decided if he came back with proof, they’d reconsider.

  So Gertie, Jack, and Bitsy didn’t have their mother, but each day—each hour—it felt more like they were where they belonged.

  Then Alex suggested he cook up a few dishes he was considering for the wedding so she could taste each and every one, which turned into hours of cooking, laughing, talking, sipping wine, and eating some of the most outrageously good food Grace had ever had.

  By ten o’clock that night, they relaxed on the terrace with an empty bottle of wine, full stomachs, sleepy puppies, and a feeling of contentment as heady as the wine.

  They settled next to each other in two rattan patio chairs, looking out over the valley in the moonlight, the puppies between them, sleeping contentedly on their blanket.

  “You can only pick one,” Alex said, holding up a finger. “No questions, comments, or changes. Pick one.”

  Grace slid him a questioning look. “Trick question or a psychological game?”

  “Wedding planning, Gracie. Just trying to pare down the offerings for the big day. You’ve sampled it all by now, so we have to eliminate one dish in each course.”

  “Okay.” She tucked her feet up and turned to face him, taking in his strong profile. “Hit me.”

  “Pizza wedges with smoked caviar or baked goat cheese salad?”

  “Hmm. I think—”

  “Don’t think, just feel.” He grinned. “So I guess it is a little bit of a psychological game.”

  “Pizza.”

  He nodded. “Agree. What about potato egg pie with bacon and crème fraîche or porcini mushroom tartlet?”

  “The tartlet that Scooter inhaled? I think you know the answer to that one.”