Acting on instinct, I scoop him up, saving him from a hard reconnection with the gleaming wood floor. In response, he wiggles his way up until he snuggles into my neck and licks my freshly washed hair. I can hear his tongue pistoning in and out of his mouth as he covers me in toy dog slime. I grab him around his stomach and try to lift him off me, but thumbless or not, he clings to me, digging in with his sharp little toenails. I can feel them piercing my wet skin like tiny blades.
After I finally pry him loose, I hustle back into the bathroom and shut the door behind me before turning on the water for yet another shower. I can’t keep this up forever. At this rate, I’ll be going through a bar of soap every other day.
After a quick shampoo and dog saliva removal, I crack the door open to scope out Taco’s location. Thankfully, he’s not there. I sprint out of the bathroom and shut the door behind me then change into some drawstring pants and a worn t-shirt from the first time I saw Metallica.
Carla always teased me about my pajama pants with the mustache pattern. She thought they were goofy. As a published author, I’ve spent my entire adult life living in nerdville. Even though you can barely make out the mustaches after so many washings, I kept them because I loved to see the smile on her face when she saw me wearing them. Wearing them now makes me feel closer to her in some warped way.
Once I make my way to the living room, three of the little dogs sit on the couch all snuggled up like a huge ball of multi-colored fur. Taco occupies my favorite spot on the loveseat. I have no idea why Grandma Nancy thought I was the right person to care for her precious K9s. I’m not even a dog person. I’m more of a cat guy. Aloof. Cold. Able to use the litter box so no rays of sunshine ever have to touch my pasty skin.
I’m at my wit's end as I shout, “Move!” I clap my hands and point to the floor. I hate pets on the furniture, and every single one of these guys has long, silky hair. I always seem to get hair in my mouth, up my nose, and all over whatever outfit I’ve decided to wear that day. “Come on! Move!” I get louder and put a deep rumble of bass in my voice.
The dogs look up at me like I’ve lost my entire mind. Apparently, they’re not used to loud humans. Grandma Nancy never raised her voice with them. She always coddled them with her sing-song tone and tender smile.
Well, unfortunately, Grandma Nancy is no longer with us, and I’ve got to lay down the law with these mangy little mutts. “Move or else!” I glare at them. They don’t budge a centimeter. Instead, they all bark at the top of their lungs in unison. They don’t even cower or shake, which is what I thought all little dogs did in spades.
“Great!”
Giving up, I squeeze into a small spot on the couch that’s not even close to being big enough for my massive frame. I turn on the TV and start flipping through the channels, landing on the Twin Cities Live show. Normally, I’d fly right by this annoying drivel, but something catches my eye. Even the little monsters quiet down as they see a very well-behaved English Bulldog snowboarding on the screen. I’m amazed. Even though dogs are not my thing, I can’t deny that I’m impressed. The pooch can slide, glide, and catch big air like a wrinkly-faced Shaun White.
The camera cuts to the host interviewing a gorgeous woman with seafoam blue eyes and long raven hair cascading in glorious curls down her back. The host waves at the camera and says, “Welcome back, I’m joined by Brooke Kirkland, owner of Bark Buddies Training in Prior Lake. And that was a clip of her dog, Merle. Incredible! How did you teach your dog to snowboard, Brooke?”
Brooke smiles, and those blue eyes light up. Something deep inside me awakens, but I tamp it back down before I can even consider it exists. A rapturous smile spreads across her face as she says, “Thanks for having me on the show today. And to answer your question, Merle is super smart. He learns just about anything in one or two training sessions. He’s also a certified therapy dog. We love to visit the local nursing homes and hospitals.”
“Wow! Can you teach my dog how to do that?” The host stares at her in awe, his eyes widening into pools of envy.
“Sure, we offer a range of services at Bark Buddies. Everything from obedience classes to private training for specialty things like agility, tracking, and…snowboarding.”
“How can viewers get in touch with you, Brooke?”
Something very strange happens when the dog trainer gazes into the camera and smiles. My cock twitches. Interesting. Damn thing has laid lifeless for so long, I thought it had given up the ghost.
I lean forward and watch her pretty mouth say, “Please, visit us online, and you can feel free to email or call us. We’ll be happy to help you with your furry best friend.”
“That sounds great,” the host says as the website for Bark Buddies Training pops on the screen. I dash across the room for a pen and paper and scribble it down.
I glance over at the Chihuahuas, my mind slipping into high gear as I imagine the pack of dogs actually behaving themselves and peace returning to my inherited home so I can complete my latest novel. “I think it’s time for you spoiled little brats to pay a little visit to Ms. Brooke Kirkland. Maybe she can whip you into shape.”
The dogs ignore me, oblivious to their impending fate. I pop open my laptop and blast off a quick email to Bark Buddies Training. I use my pen name signature because I think it’s for the best if I remain anonymous for now. After the way the citizens of Prior Lake have shown me nothing but open hostility, I don’t want to incite a riot.
I close the screen and feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe this beautiful dog trainer can tame Grandma Nancy’s little terrors.
Chapter 3
Brooke
The loud chimes on my cell phone alarm app disrupt my restful sleep. I slowly open my eyes and yawn. The noise annoys the crap out of me, but I don’t want to move. It’s way too warm and comfy tucked into my thousand thread-count sheets, laying on top of my memory foam queen-sized mattress. Merle snores, the loud alarm not even piercing his consciousness. He sleeps like the dead. Hopefully, I won’t have to launder my sheets again because they’re stained with his bulldog drool.
I splurged on a very nice bed at Hom Furniture, and I haven’t even paid it off yet. But after those lumpy futons in my college years, I made the investment in myself and my back. A good night’s sleep is probably the most important thing required to maintain sanity. At least my sanity. That, and good food. Being a foodie is something I’ve enjoyed since I made my first gourmet mac and cheese with rock shrimp.
I reach over to the nightstand and fumble around until I grab my cell phone. Shutting off the alarm, I inhale a deep breath. Okay, it’s time to get up and face the day, buttercup.
I plant my feet on my plush rug and stretch. Outside, I can see the early traces of the morning sun. Orange light kissing gray clouds. I put on my soft bunny slippers and make my way to the bathroom.
I’m still half-asleep as I slip out of my over-sized t-shirt and panties. The shower will revive me, it always does. The hot water feels so good on my skin. I lather up with my cucumber-scented body wash. It’s such a refreshing smell. I love all things cucumber, especially cucumber water. It tastes like a spa in your house.
After I shampoo and condition my long thick hair, I step out of the shower and dry off. I indulge in some lavender lotion, put on my soft, cotton robe and wrap my hair in a towel. I make my way to the kitchen and start the coffee maker right away. While I’m waiting for my caffeine fix, I check some work emails.
One customer wants some tips on how to house train a puppy. Another asks if Bark Buddies offers acting classes for dogs. That one makes me smile. It’s not something that Pam and I have done before, but I make a note to myself to ask her about it. Now, I can’t help but wonder if Hollywood has come calling right here in Prior Lake. I start to daydream of my own show on Animal Planet. How cool would that be?
After opening the last straggler in my box, I stare at the message. I blink and stare at it again. No! It’s not possible. The signature reads, W. Ellis Cole. My heart throb
s in my chest, and I start to hyperventilate as I pant out tiny little breaths. Was this really him? The W. Ellis Cole? Or some average, dumpy-assed W. Ellis Cole?
Mystery is one of my favorite genres, I’ve read his entire library. I’m a huge fan, I just don’t go around bragging about it. I love how Cole weaves so many twists and turns into his novels. I never know how it’s gonna turn out. You can be sure of who done it, and then…wham! He takes you to a place you never expected to go. That element of surprise keeps me turning the pages, hungering for more.
I can’t help but blush with pleasure as I read his email.
Hi Brooke,
I saw your interview on the Twin Cities Live show. I was genuinely impressed by how you taught Merle how to snowboard. I really need some help with my dogs. They are a real handful! I think private obedience classes would be a great start. I hope you do house calls. If not, I’m happy to pay extra for that service. Please reply with your availability. The sooner, the better.
Best,
W. Ellis Cole.
The corners of my mouth tug upward. W. Ellis Cole needs my help. Me! I can’t even believe it.
I pour myself a cup of coffee and add a splash of almond milk and a spoonful of Sugar In The Raw. I stir it all together, brimming with excitement about Cole’s email. I take a sip and smile, welcoming the hot liquid and the jolt it will give me to start my day.
Merle rumbles into the kitchen, giving a playful snort in greeting. I kneel down to pet him. “How’d you sleep, boy?” He snuggles against me. He has to be the sweetest bulldog on the planet. My life is better with him in it.
“Guess what? I’m gonna meet a famous author. Maybe, anyway. What do you think of that?” I rub his back. He looks up at me with a confused expression. “W. Ellis Cole. I’m sure you’ve heard of him. One of his books was even turned into a movie. Remember? The one with Keanu Reeves as a detective. It was pretty good, but I think you might have snored all the way through it.”
***
When I walk through the entrance at Bark Buddies, the door chimes my arrival. Pam stands behind the counter, talking on the business phone. She waves at me as she speaks into the receiver, “Yes, absolutely, sir. We can help you with that. Just bring your poodle in, and we can get started right away. I have an opening on Thursday…”
I head to the office and sort through some mail that’s been piling up for the last few days. I separate the important things like bills from the junk mail before heading back out to the floor.
Pam hangs up the phone and gives me a bright smile. “Hey, Brooke. How’s your day going?”
I smile back and set my coffee tumbler on the counter. “Going great. Is that a new customer?”
“Yeah, he’s having a bit of trouble with a poodle who keeps scratching up his furniture. And get this – his wife just bought a brand-new living room set two weeks ago. Italian leather to the tune of five figures.”
“Ouch!” I grimace, unable to even imagine Merle wrecking my furniture. Even my much less expensive brand isn’t something I want to replace.
“Ouch is right.”
“Well, I’m sure we can handle that.” I walk over to the kitchenette and slip a pod in the Keurig. I’m addicted to the new coffee infused with Vitamins. Like killing two birds with one stone.
After Pam puts her phone down, she waggles her eyebrows at me. “Sure. So, what’s up with you? I saw that rerun of you on Twin Cities last night, Miss Local Celeb.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t know about all of that, but I think that it may have landed us a celebrity customer.” I struggled to keep the excitement from overflowing into full-on fan girl.
“Really? Do tell!”
“Do you know the author, W. Ellis Cole?”
She chuckles and rolls her huge brown eyes. I pity any man that gets that soulful gaze sent his way. Pam leaves broken hearts in her wake wherever she goes. “That’s like asking if I know John Grisham.”
“It’s not like you’re into those kinda books.”
“I prefer non-fiction, what can I say. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know who W. Ellis Cole is. It’s not like my head’s been under a rock. Even though with this hair today, some people might begin to wonder.” She musses her loose ponytail, fingering her long chestnut waves.
“You look great, even with bedhead,” I insist.
“That’s why you’re my best friend. But a little honesty would be much appreciated. Quinn keeps hinting that he wants me to switch up my do.” A long-suffering sigh escapes her lips. Quinn’s the man of the moment, but we both know he’s not the one.
“Are you actually gonna change your hair for a man?” Keeping the rancor out of my tone is like fighting a losing battle. Men have never been my strong suit. Bad attitude perfectly describes my modus operandi when it comes to dating. Pam is much more forgiving than I am. Picking narcissists with betrayal as their middle name is what I do best.
“It’s just hair.” She tries to laugh, but it falls flat between us.
I press ahead, unrelenting. “That’s how it starts. Next thing you know, he’ll want to control other aspects of your life.”
“Don’t be so extreme, Brooke. I was gonna try something new anyway. Maybe it’s time for a little cut and color.”
“Sure, but only if that’s what you want.” While I’m always happy for Pam and her newfound flavors of the day, I just didn’t want to see her lose herself inside of the relationship. I’ve seen it happen before. Outside of my family, Pam’s my ride or die. Hell, she is family.
“That goes without saying.” She frowns and taps her finger against her lips. “Hold on a sec, are you sure it’s the real W. Ellis Cole?”
I shrug. “The email seemed legit. The same as his website.” While I guess it’s possible some weirdo played a practical joke on me, I couldn’t think of a reason they’d know the identity of my favorite author.
“That’s pretty awesome. What’s his deal?”
I don’t admit to wondering the same thing. “He says he’s got dogs that are a handful and he’s interested in obedience school.”
“That’s an easy one. After you help him out, maybe he could give us a testimonial that we could put on the website. Customers would eat that up. We’d be the talk of the town.”
“Yeah, that would be great.”
She puts her thick mane into a messy bun at the nape of her neck. “And if that happens, I’ll become his newest fan. I’ll read all of his books.”
Pam and I share a laugh. I pop open my laptop and click my browser. I stare at Cole’s email for several seconds, trying to decide how to reply. There are a million thoughts running through my mind.
I want to remain professional, but Cole is not an ordinary customer. He’s been on The New York Times bestsellers list. That puts him in the company of everyone from James Patterson to Rachel Ray. It’s a big freakin’ deal, especially in a town this size.
I press the “reply” button and grapple with what I really want to say. Like a typical woman, I want what I intend to say between the lines to be just as important as my literal meaning. Cole, what inspires you most as an author? How many words do you write per day? Can I get a selfie and an autograph? Oh, and about your dogs, I’d be happy to help with that too.
I start typing. I know I must choose my words carefully. A girlish giddiness rips through my body as I stare at the blinking cursor on the screen. I’m not sure how to address him. I wonder what the “W” in W. Ellis Cole stands for. I decide to play it safe.
Hi Mr. Cole,
Thanks for tuning into Twin Cities Live even though it wasn’t actually live. It was a rerun, but I’m glad you saw it. I would be delighted to help you with your dogs. Training challenging dogs is my specialty.
I have an opening in my schedule on Wednesday afternoon or Thursday morning. I am also available next Saturday. Please let me know which day and time works for you.
And I’d be happy to come to you.
Sincerely,
Broo
ke Kirkland
Owner, Bark Buddies Training
I press the send button, immediately regretting my tangent about the show being a rerun. I’m sure that a busy author like him could care less about that. I also wonder if I should have typed “Mr.”
Come to you.
Why is my body humming along as if I’ve been electrified? If Cole is a seventy-year-old man, “Mr.” made sense, but my obsession with the man does not. There aren’t any author photos on any of his sites, even on Amazon. But what if he isn’t? His age poses as much a mystery as the author himself. The devil’s in the details, and Cole keeps them vague. I don’t even admit to myself that the reason I know that is because I might have been cyber stalking him last night. Even my advanced Google searches came up empty. I have no choice but to wait and see what he’s like in person. One thing’s for certain, he won’t live up to the image of perfection I’ve created in my mind.
No man ever does.
Chapter 4
Landon
Wednesday morning rolls around just like any other hump day. As I do my morning exercises, my heart thumps against my rib cage, announcing that today is different in the most exciting way. Truthfully, I have no business saying “hump day” at all. First of all, the cliché annoys me. I can’t stand that stupid commercial with the talking camel mumbling the phrase repeatedly. I also don’t have to punch a clock five days a week. I feel sorry for people who have to drag themselves to work doing jobs they detest.
As an author, I set my own hours. Sometimes, I might just spend a lazy Friday around the house in my pajamas. And then when Saturday comes, I may work for fifteen hours straight until my neck spasms in protest to my abuse. It all depends on my creative flow.
Whenever someone used to ask about my greatest inspiration, the answer was easy, and it didn’t take a second thought. Carla, my own personal muse. Now that she’s gone, it’s different. I find myself needing more time to get my head into a creative space.
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