A New Leash On Love (Furever Yours Book 1)

by Melissa Senate

  The doorbell rang and he answered the door, his niece Ellie flinging himself at him and wrapping her skinny arms around him.

  “You’re the best uncle in the world!” she said. “Thank you a million zillion times for training Sparkle!” She raced over to the puppy. “Come, Sparkle,” she said very seriously.

  The puppy padded over, wagging her tail.

  “Good, Sparkle!” Ellie said, dropping down to her knees and petting the dog all over. “She is going to make everyone in my class wish they could have a puppy!”

  No doubt. Or maybe not. “Well, tomorrow afternoon, when everyone sees how much work went into training her, how much picking up poop is involved...”

  It had been a lot of work. And he’d loved just about every minute of it, despite the middle-of-the-night potty breaks in the freezing cold. And thanks to the presentation scheduled for tomorrow, he’d been able to get together with Claire twice over the past week. She’d kept the sessions short, making excuses to get home to Blaze, but he couldn’t blame her for wanting to keep her distance.

  Ellie laughed. “I don’t mind picking up gross poop because that’s what taking care of Sparkle is all about.”

  He held up his hand for a high five. “Exactly. So I’ll see you at your school at two thirty.”

  Ellie beamed. “Yay! I’m so excited! Everyone will get to meet my great puppy!”

  “Thank you, Matt,” his sister said. “For everything. Come over anytime to visit Sparkle.”

  Ellie clipped on Sparkle’s leash and headed toward the door. She turned to the dog. “I can’t wait to show you my room.”

  A minute later they were gone, and it was just him and ole Hank. Matt dropped down on the couch, the big dog slowly sinking down on the rug, his head on his paws. “You’re relieved that little pest is gone, aren’t you?” Matt asked, laughing. Hank lifted his head. “No? You’re not. Hell, I’m not either. I loved that little mutt.”

  The place seemed so empty without Sparkle. Even with Hank there. As the day wore on, he felt the puppy’s absence so acutely that he wanted to talk about it with Claire. She’d understand exactly how he felt.

  And he owed her an apology for the “you can’t get attached” crud he’d tried to feed her. He’d gotten attached to Sparkle. He was attached to Hank.

  Luckily, he couldn’t go see Claire even though he thought it was a good idea. He had a job interview. His old friend Zeke had hooked him up with the veteran he’d told Matt about at the dog park. Bobby Doyle owned an auto body shop and needed some help—temporary was fine—because his best mechanic was out with a back injury. Matt quickly understood what Zeke hadn’t said—that Bobby, who suffered from PTSD, could use a steadying presence like Matt around, a guy who’d been injured in a blast overseas and had come back and was piecing his life together. Bobby had built a good life for himself, but despite the family and the business, the man had trouble seeing what was right in front of him. The nightmares made it worse too. Matt had spoken to Birdie about hooking Bobby up with a program that matched therapy dogs with veterans, and Birdie was working on it.

  Once Bobby’s mechanic returned to work at the end of March, Matt would be leaving Spring Forest. A week, maybe ten days at most. He and Hank would hit the road and settle somewhere and start over. Matt was sure now he’d find work as a mechanic, and lately, he was thinking he might go to dog training school and become certified to work in an animal shelter, maybe even start his own business.

  His life was moving forward in the right direction. He wasn’t there yet, but maybe he’d get there. Then maybe there could be a chance for him and Claire.

  Whoa. He’d had that thought and had always pushed it back down in the recesses where it belonged. But now it was up and out there. He could no longer deny that things were happening for him, that he was building something here in Spring Forest without ever having meant to.

  Which meant he’d actually stay?

  He looked at Hank. “What the hell, buddy? Why don’t I know what’s up from one minute to the next? Why is this so damned hard?”

  Hank came over and put his head on Matt’s thigh. He could swear the dog was saying, “I know, right?”

  * * *

  Eighteen third-graders, including his niece, Ellie, were staring at him as he stood at the blackboard in the front of the classroom, Sparkle on a four-foot leash beside him in the sit position. Mrs. Panetta’s desk was to his left, and Claire stood just slightly behind him on his right, next to Sparkle’s kennel. He’d walked the dog in on her leash, and the moment they’d entered the classroom, the kids had gone crazy with oohs and aahs, so cute, aww, throwing out tons of questions about how much she weighed and how old she was and if she knew she was a dog. Mrs. Panetta had gotten them to shush and explained that Mr. Fielding—man, did that sound weird—would answer all their questions after his presentation.

  Ellie sat in the first row, just to the left of him. Next to her was a girl with her arms folded over her chest, who seemed to be sulking. Maybe her parents wouldn’t let her have a dog. The boy on the other side of the sulker was grinning like crazy, and could barely contain his excitement about having a puppy in his classroom.

  The teacher had introduced him and Claire, so he’d better get cracking.

  “Hi, kids,” he began. “About a month ago, my niece Ellie was promised a puppy for her birthday, which is coming up in just a few days. So I took Ellie to the Furever Paws shelter to pick one out. Who did she fall in love with? A totally untrained five-month-old puppy that wouldn’t stop barking or spinning in circles and chasing her tail, and had no idea that she wasn’t supposed to go potty in the house.”

  The kids broke into laughter at that one. Ellie was beaming, and Matt winked at her.

  “Well, my sister, Ellie’s mom, wanted a trained puppy,” he continued. “So I offered to turn Sparkle into just the right puppy for their house. It was a lot of hard work. Sparkle had to learn her name, to come when called, to stay when told to stay, not to chase birds or squirrels when told no, not to jump up and—very importantly—to do her business, if you know what I mean, outside only.”

  “You mean pee and poop!” the excited boy shouted.

  “Exactly,” Matt said, laughing.

  He handed Sparkle’s leash to Claire, then moved to the far end of the classroom. “Sparkle!”

  The dog immediately looked at him.

  “Sparkle, come!” She came trotting over, Claire more holding the leash than guiding her. He led her back to the front of the room, then put a treat down on the floor right in front of Sparkle. “Now, this is Sparkle’s favorite treat. Peanut butter. Oh boy, does she love peanut butter.”

  The sulking girl in the front shot her hand in the air.

  “Yes, Danica?” Mrs. Panetta said.

  “If it’s her favorite, why isn’t she eating it?” the girl demanded, crossing her arms over her chest again.

  “Because I didn’t tell her she could,” Matt explained. “Okay, Sparkle. Treat.”

  The dog looked at Matt and then gobbled it up.

  Everyone clapped. “Ellie, your dog is so awesome!” someone called out.

  Ellie was glowing.

  “Sparkle, treat!” Danica said, holding out what looked like half of a chocolate bar.

  “No, Sparkle!” Claire shouted. “Stay! Chocolate is toxic to dogs.”

  “Here, Sparkle!” Danica said, waving the chocolate.

  As if in slow motion, Mrs. Panetta, Matt and Claire all rushed forward—the teacher to grab the chocolate before the dog could, and Matt and Claire to get ahold of Sparkle on her leash. But the puppy lunged, jumping up on the girl and knocking her lunch box all over the floor. Her sandwich went spinning—and Sparkle went flying after it.

  “Sparkle, stay!” Matt commanded. The puppy stopped and looked at Matt. He scooped her up and put her in her kennel.

 
; “Your puppy is so dumb!” Danica shouted, collecting her baggie-wrapped sandwich and putting it back in her lunch box.

  “You’re dumb!” Ellie shouted.

  Oh no. Tell me this is not happening, Matt thought, his stomach sinking.

  “Danica and Ellie, you’re both going to the principal’s office after the presentation,” Mrs. Panetta said, directing a stern look at both girls.

  Ellie had tears in her eyes. Danica looked spitting mad.

  Great. The spotlight sure was on Ellie.

  He’d blown this. He’d gotten smug, thinking he knew everything about puppies and training, when he’d forgotten about how unpredictable things could get.

  And Claire had reminded him when they’d last gotten together.

  “Sparkle will be in an unfamiliar environment,” Claire had said. “Lots of little hands will be poking at her, wanting to touch her. We’ll have to be on guard and mindful that it may stress her, even though she’s well trained.”

  He’d let Sparkle get too close to Danica, and now both girls were in trouble.

  “Mrs. Panetta?” a boy asked, his hand in the air.

  “Yes, Tom?”

  “I wanted a puppy for my birthday, but now I don’t,” he said.

  “Yeah, what if I got a puppy and it ate my Halloween candy and got sick?” a girl asked.

  Sigh.

  “That’s a great question,” Claire said, stepping forward. “And that’s part of caring for a puppy. We always have to be really careful about what a dog can get ahold of. It’s almost like babyproofing your house. Dogs can chew wires, they can eat things that are bad for them. Having a pet really does take a lot of work, but you know what?”

  “What?” a few kids asked.

  “Having a pet is also really great. You have an instant buddy, a friend to love and care for, and the rewards are worth all the hard stuff about having a pet.”

  “I have a dog and he’s my best friend,” a boy in the back said. “He sleeps next to my bed every night.”

  “My cat does that,” another boy said.

  “I hope my parents let me get a dog for my birthday. You’re so lucky, Ellie,” another girl said.

  “Your dog is an idiot!” Danica hiss-whispered to Ellie.

  “No, you’re the idiot!” Ellie hiss-whispered back.

  “Girls, that is enough,” Mrs. Panetta said sharply. “Well, kids, that’s it for today. Let’s all thank Mr. Fielding and Ms. Asher from Furever Paws Animal Rescue for coming in today and telling us all about puppy care and training.”

  After lots of thank-yous, Matt picked up Sparkle’s kennel and gave Ellie a quick hand-squeeze, then got the hell out of that classroom. The teacher followed him and Claire into the hallway.

  “Please don’t worry about things getting a bit out of hand,” Mrs. Panetta said. “Claire will tell you—as a teacher, you just never know. But the presentation was great, and I think the kids got a lot out of it. Thank you so much for coming in.”

  Matt managed a smile and shook her hand. He needed air. Cold March air. Gripping Sparkle’s kennel, he headed for the exit.

  “Well, it was realistic,” Claire said. “And Mrs. Panetta is right. You just never know what will happen. I hope you’re not upset about the end.”

  He gaped at her. “Not upset? Are you kidding? This was Ellie’s chance to shine. Instead, some girl tried to poison her dog, and now Ellie’s in trouble for calling her dumb.”

  They reached the door and Claire pushed it open, holding it for Matt who held the heavy kennel. “It happens, Matt. In third grade and in middle school and in high school. All part of learning to get along.”

  The cool air felt good on his heated skin, but his heart kept pounding with how badly it had all gone down. “I’d hardly call that getting along. Ellie is going to be really pissed at me, and rightly so. I didn’t handle things right. Why the hell I did think I belonged in this environment? With kids and puppies? I knew better than that. But I let myself be talked into thinking I’m someone I’m not.”

  “Oh, Matt, come on,” she said, glaring at him.

  “I’m not Uncle Matt the puppy trainer, who can lead a classroom presentation,” he snapped. “I’m a former army corporal with a slight limp trying to figure things out now that I’m a civilian.”

  “And you are,” she said, touching his arm.

  He pulled away. “I thought I was. But I don’t belong here, Claire. This is your world. Not mine.”

  One thing was for damned sure. He wasn’t staying in Spring Forest. Come the end of the month, he and his Mustang would be gone, Hank riding shotgun.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Claire, you know I’m not one to pry, but are you planning to get pregnant by a sperm donor?”

  Claire almost spit out the sip of water she’d just taken. She straightened the stack of applications for tomorrow’s adoption event and moved them to the counter. How on earth would Bunny know she was looking into options? Then she eyed her tote bag, which had slumped over on the desk. The big pamphlet for “Is Using a Sperm Donor Right for You?” was sticking out.

  She sighed. A week had passed since the fiasco in Ellie’s class. A week without a word from Matt, despite her texting and calling and even showing up at his place and knocking on the door. She’d peered in the windows, and he didn’t seem to be home, so maybe he wasn’t avoiding her. She’d heard Hank’s nails scrape the floor as he’d come to the door to see who was there, and she’d been almost doubled-over with pangs of missing the old dog. Missing Matt.

  She glanced around the lobby. The two of them were alone, thank goodness. Claire shoved the pamphlet back in the bag and hung it on the back of the chair. “Just looking into all possibilities,” she whispered.

  “I understand,” Bunny said. “Believe me.”

  Claire was about to use the opportunity to ask Bunny about her personal life. She knew Bunny had been engaged in her twenties and that her fiancé had died tragically. Bunny often mentioned the man with a sweet, wistful tone, and Claire had always wanted to know Bunny’s story—how he’d died, if Bunny had tried to find love after her loss.

  But before Claire could think of a nonprying way to pry, Bunny rushed to say, “Guess things aren’t working out with Matt?”

  Sometimes Claire wasn’t sure if Bunny wanted to be asked about her life or not. Her money was on the latter. “Nope. I tried everything, Bunny. But the man insists, once again, that he’s not future material, no one’s husband or father, and is planning to leave town at the end of the month. And March is almost over, so...probably Sunday night.”

  “Stubborn fool,” Bunny said, shaking her head.

  Claire couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks.”

  Birdie came in from the back hallway, carrying a donation of stacked empty litter boxes, and Claire jumped up to take them from her. “Thanks, Claire. Would you mind logging these in?”

  Claire was glad to be busy. She’d walked all the dogs, played with them individually and together in the yard, swept, sanitized, and now she was looking for things to do to avoid thinking about Matt. In fifteen minutes she’d be done here, and would go home to sweet Blaze. The noon dog walker reported that Blaze was a bit skittish on leash when other dogs were nearby, and that was something Claire was working on. She adored Blaze, but Blaze wasn’t a cuddler yet. He might never be, and that was okay too.

  “Oh, Bunny—Gator texted about selling that parcel of land again,” Birdie said.

  “I don’t think we should, Birdie. It’s prime Furever Paws acreage!”

  Birdie shrugged. “Gator said he looked deeply into it.”

  Claire had begun to realize that Bernadette “Birdie” Whitaker had one weakness: her brother, Gator. Bunny, who tended to defer to Birdie in most things, also had one weakness: the animals. So when there was discord about something related to Whitake
r Acres, Birdie and Bunny butted heads, which was a good thing. No quick agreements on what should be carefully considered—like selling the land currently used for training the dogs.

  “Tell him we’re thinking about possibilities,” Bunny said, giving Claire a wink.

  Claire blushed. She hoped Bunny wouldn’t tell Birdie that she was checking out options for having a family. Ones that didn’t include a husband. She wasn’t quite ready to share that yet.

  Because she also wasn’t ready to give up on her dreams of a future with Matt Fielding.

  The bell over the front door jangled and Richard Jackson, aka Doc J, walked in. The veterinarian, a tall, kind man in his sixties, had a thriving private practice but spent a lot of time at the shelter, offering his services out of the goodness of his heart. If Claire wasn’t mistaken, he’d been in more than usual the past few days, fussing over the Whitaker sisters, complimenting their hair and outfits. Considering Birdie often wore paw-muddied overalls, and Bunny liked her Crocs with animal-print socks, Claire thought it was sweet.

  “I like your rabbit pin, Bunny,” Doc J said with a warm smile.

  “Oh, thank you,” she said, peering at it on her big blue fisherman sweater. “Birdie gave it to me for my birthday. A bunny for Bunny, she said.” Bunny laughed.

  “And I just happen to have a bird for a Birdie and a Bunny,” Doc J said, handing Birdie a bakery box.

  “What’s this?” Birdie asked with a surprised smile.

  “Open it,” Doc J said.

  Birdie opened the box and placed a hand on the region of her heart. She pulled out a big cookie in the shape and colors of a robin. “A bird for a Birdie.”

  “There were no bunnies, or I would have gotten one,” he said to Bunny. “But I did get two robins.”

  Bunny laughed. “You’re a peach, Doc J.”

  Claire watched the interplay between the three and was sure the doc had a little crush on one of the sisters—she just wasn’t sure which one. Hey, if Claire had no love life, she wanted others to so she could live vicariously through them.