Better Luck Next Time

by Denise Grover Swank

“Oh, you’ll do it,” Adalia said. “You know you will.”

  She was right. He’d do it for her, and much more than that too. And a part of him was terrified at the thought.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Welcome to your new home, Tyrion,” Adalia said, as she opened the back door to Finn’s fancy car, which now had tufts of hair all over the leather.

  Would Finn be upset? She mentally shrugged. Love me. Love my dog.

  Then she realized she’d said the L word, which was problematic, even if it was only in her head. That was leapfrogging many steps ahead, but she really liked him. She could see it might be a possibility in the future.

  Out of self-preservation, she considered telling him to go home, that she wanted to get Tyrion acclimated to his new home alone, but most of her wanted him there. She liked the bubble of happiness that surrounded her whenever he was close.

  The dog jumped out, sniffed the grass next to the driveway, and promptly lifted his leg.

  “Well, he’s not running yet,” Finn said, walking around to her side of the car. “I take that as a good sign.”

  “The leash probably helps,” she said. Maisie had warned them both to keep a good hold on it in case he decided to bolt.

  Finn started to shut the door but noticed all the hair on the seat and swept it out, grinning. “Maybe we should save it for Blue. She could knit a second Tyrion out of his own fur.”

  Adalia’s heart burst open and, keeping a firm grip on the leash, she walked over and lifted onto her toes to kiss him.

  “Not that I’m complaining,” he said, his eyes shining, “but what prompted that? So I can be sure to do it again.”

  “Just you being you,” she said, patting his chest. “Thank you.”

  Grinning, he started to say something, then stopped and shook his head. “I’m going to stop while I’m ahead. The only responses I can think of are Mr. Darcy responses. They’d make you think I’m as conceited and full of myself as you did when you first met me.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t assume you’re too far ahead.” They both laughed, but Adalia didn’t want to just laugh him off. He’d said something real. “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel that way.”

  “It was partly deserved,” he said. “I fully admit that.”

  She studied him in amazement. How many men had that level of self-awareness? How many people?

  His expression shifted, and he cast a glance at the dog, who was still sniffing around with interest. “You ready to bring him inside?”

  Biting her bottom lip, she was silent for a moment, then said, “Maybe we should stay out on the front porch for a bit. Let him get used to me.”

  He laughed. “You spent an hour with him in the playroom at the shelter. You’re stalling.”

  “I just don’t want to scare Tyrion. Jezebel is like a banshee with claws.”

  “Jezebel is a banshee with claws. And besides”—his gaze dropped to her side—“I don’t think any adjustment period is required. He already seems taken with you.”

  Tyrion sat at Adalia’s side, patiently waiting.

  She leaned over and rubbed behind his ears, staring into his eyes—an arresting mix of yellow, green, and one patch of blue. “Don’t worry, big guy. Finn will protect us both.”

  “I should have stopped by my house and picked up my leather jacket.”

  She gave him a hopeful look. “It’s not too late.”

  He laughed again, but it had a nervous edge. “Maybe we should call Dottie. Without Jack’s sorcery at hand, she’s our best bet for taming the beast.”

  Pushing out a sigh, she considered it. She had hoped to be alone with Finn for a while before he left for Charlotte, but then again, she’d just brought home a nervous, unsettled dog. Did she really want to ignore him to make out with Finn?

  Did it make her a bad person that she had to give it a half-second of thought?

  “That’s probably a good idea, don’t you think?” she asked hesitantly.

  His eyes softened. “Yeah. It actually is. Let the record show I came up with it.”

  She shook her head, laughing. “Duly noted. Point to Gryffindor.”

  “What makes you think my house is Gryffindor?” he asked, his brow raised.

  “After the whole Big Catch sale, I can see how some people might peg you as a Slytherin, but you’re a Gryffindor, through and through.” She patted his chest again. “Courageous. Chivalrous.”

  “Courageous?” he asked in surprise.

  “Anyone else would have tucked tail and run, but you’re still here, Finn, trying to make things right. That’s courage.”

  He was silent for a moment, and she started to worry she’d said the wrong thing, but then the now-familiar teasing look filled his eyes. “What are you, a Hufflepuff?”

  “God, no,” she snorted, scrunching up her face. “I’m a Ravenclaw. Now let’s call Dottie.”

  Dottie, of course, agreed to come over right away.

  Adalia and Finn waited outside with Tyrion, who continued to walk around and sniff the yard, peeing on several things in what Finn assured her was an encouraging development.

  The frizzy-haired neighbor from a few houses down was walking down the sidewalk and did a double take when she saw the dog. Her eyes lifted to Adalia’s in horror. “You have another pet?”

  “Yep,” Adalia said, puffing her chest with pride. “This is Tyrion. He’s part dire wolf.”

  The woman’s eyes grew wide and she hurried off, casting backward glances at Adalia and the dog.

  “I’m not sure you should have provoked her,” Finn said, shaking his head with a grin. “River’s phone’s about to blow up with people petitioning to remove the wolf from the neighborhood. You better hope he doesn’t give them your number.”

  “I can take it.”

  Dottie arrived a few minutes later, wearing a flowing multicolored kaftan, her lavender hair wrapped in a bright blue and white turban. She held out her hands as her gaze landed on the husky. “What a darling!”

  “Dottie,” Adalia said, “this is Tyrion.”

  “Such a strong name for such a handsome dog,” Dottie said, crouching down to pet him. He instantly started wagging his tail. “I’ll go find our sweet girl so your boy can get to know his new home. I’ll let you know when it’s safe to come in.” She rose up spryly, as if crouching at her age weren’t a near-wondrous feat, then headed up the porch steps.

  “Sweet girl?” Adalia snickered under her breath.

  “Dottie always seems to see the best in people…and animals.”

  There was no disputing that.

  They chatted about the show for a few minutes—Finn asked if she’d be willing to make a couple of artist visits while he was out of town, and she agreed. But when Dottie didn’t reemerge after ten minutes, Adalia made a show of looking at her watch.

  “What do you think? Has Jezebel murdered her?”

  “Probably not,” he smirked. “But the last time Dottie was given full run of this house she nearly burned it down. Maybe we should go in and check.”

  “Good idea. It’s one thing for Jack to come back to a new dog, and another to come home to a new dog sitting in a burnt-out house.”

  They took Tyrion around to the back yard, tied his lead to the tree by the bench, making sure he had plenty of shade, then went in through the back door.

  “I’ll go first,” Finn said, motioning for her to get behind him.

  “See, I told you that you were courageous,” she teased. But she didn’t object. She didn’t feel like getting clawed any more than he did.

  Dottie was standing in the middle of the kitchen, holding a smoking oversized cigar. An open can of sardines sat at her feet at the center of a three-foot-diameter circle she’d drawn in chalk. Several multi-colored crystals had been spaced out along the line.

  “Um, Dottie…” Finn said, his hesitation apparent, “this looks…interesting.”

  Adalia shot him a huge grin before turning back to Dottie. “What do the
crystals do?”

  “The energy from the blue and yellow crystals is intended to draw Jezebel to the center of the circle, while the purple, black, and clear ones will keep her there.”

  “Why didn’t we use this setup in June when Jezebel was on the loose?” Finn asked, glancing down at his arms as if he could still feel the cat’s claws.

  “I’ve been reading up on it, dear,” Dottie said patiently, “in case Jezebel lost her way again. I confess, I never expected to use it in the house.”

  “Are you planning to catch her?” Finn asked.

  “I was thinking we’d draw her into the circle, then bring in your newest guest while she’s safely inside,” Dottie said.

  “And the crystals will keep her there?” Finn asked.

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Sounds foolproof,” Adalia said, but she had to admit that as much as she encouraged Dottie’s kookiness, she was worried about how the cat would react to Tyrion. He already seemed scared, and she didn’t want to traumatize him any more than necessary. Nor did she want any of the humans in the room to lose an eye.

  “I need to find the dear and send her toward the circle with the sage,” Dottie said, glancing around. “Now where did she wander off to?”

  “I know how to draw her,” Adalia said, glancing out the back window to check on Tyrion. He looked content enough, but she didn’t want to leave him out there any longer than necessary. She grabbed an oven mitt from a drawer and put it on the kitchen table. That done, she started adding things to the blender: frozen strawberries, frozen peaches, orange juice, and a generous squeeze of honey.

  “Um, Adalia,” Finn said. “Are you making the cat a smoothie?”

  “I know it sounds nuts,” Adalia said, “but every time I make a smoothie, she’s on the blender like I’m chopping catnip. No interest in margaritas, though. Go figure.”

  “She’s definitely Jack’s soul companion, not yours,” Finn said with a small smile. “I’m not sure what that says about him.”

  She nudged him. “Anyway, one time I caught her licking the container, so I figure we can use the smoothie to subdue her, too.”

  “That’s what the crystals are for,” Dottie said.

  Adalia grimaced. “Maybe we should have a backup plan. Finn, get a laundry basket from the basement.”

  He hurried off, and when he returned with the white plastic basket, he looked so triumphant she was tempted to pull up “Eye of the Tiger” on her phone. “Got it,” he said, “and may I state for record that I feel much better about trying to trap her with this than with that flimsy nylon collapsible carrier I used last time. Now how does a smoothie draw a cat?”

  “Not just any cat,” Adalia said. “Watch and learn.” She pressed a button on the blender, creating a loud grinding sound, and seconds later, a black streak shot into the kitchen, jumping up on the counter. Jezebel started attacking the blender, screeching and hissing, her paws flying.

  “What the hell?” Finn shouted as Adalia backed up out of reach of the cat’s claws.

  Adalia donned the oven mitt and grabbed the electric cord, trying to pull it from the wall, but Jezebel took a swipe at her.

  “Trap her, Finn!”

  Finn rushed forward with the basket but tripped on a crystal and missed. The basket hit the blender, tipping the appliance over onto its side. The lid popped off, and smoothie shot all over the counter and walls while Jezebel continued attacking the blender as if she were in a fight for her life. The machine slid across the granite counter, spreading the strawberry concoction all over Adalia’s and Finn’s chests and faces…and everywhere else.

  Adalia burst out laughing, trying to reach the cord again, but slipped on the wet floor and fell, her butt cheek landing on a crystal.

  “Oww!”

  Finn reached for her, concern in his eyes, but she waved him off and got to her feet, determined to shut off the blender before the cat managed to reach inside and hurt herself. Ignoring Jezebel’s frenzied clawing at the small appliance, she got a good hold on the cord and yanked.

  As soon as the blender stopped, Jezebel halted her attack and became completely complacent, looking at the blender as though wondering how she’d gotten there. She jumped off the counter and landed in the center of the circle, sitting on her butt in front of the sardines.

  Finn sprang into action and slammed the basket over her. Instead of fighting him, she lay down and licked her paw and sniffed the sardines, totally calm.

  “See?” Dottie beamed, clapping her hands. “My plan worked.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Finn was going to be late for dinner with his parents, and he had half of a fruit smoothie on him.

  Too bad he still didn’t want to leave.

  They’d brought Tyrion inside, and the dog had instantly gotten to work licking up the splatters of smoothie that covered the kitchen like a Jackson Pollock painting, tail wagging the whole time. Only when the kitchen floor had been licked clean did he approach the laundry basket that was now bucking and weaving under Finn’s hand, Jezebel hissing and spitting like a possessed thing.

  “Let them smell each other, dear,” Dottie said. “The animal world is primal. That’s how they’ll know they’re friends.”

  Which was well and good for her to say. Finn didn’t want to lose a hand.

  Except Tyrion took one sniff of Jezebel and immediately backed up and lowered to the ground, head between his paws. Another growl from the cat, and he turned over onto his back, revealing his stomach. He had at least sixty pounds on her, but he was acknowledging her dominance.

  “Smart man,” Finn said. “He knows she’s in charge.”

  “Smart man, indeed,” Adalia said, raising her eyebrows.

  Dottie gave them the satisfied smile of a cat drunk on milk (another of his grandfather’s favorite sayings). “Oh, the energy pouring off you two. Red and purple and green.”

  “That’s a lot of colors, Dottie,” Finn said. “I think all of those blended together would be black.”

  “You and River,” she said, tut-tutting, “you boys are both such literal thinkers sometimes.”

  “Returning to the situation at hand,” Finn said. “Can I let her out?”

  Jezebel was still bucking against her containment, but she’d stopped hissing and spitting—or maybe she hadn’t stopped, precisely, but it wasn’t quite so loud.

  Tyrion whined a little and edged farther away, as if asking him to stay put.

  “That settles it,” Adalia said with a smile. “You live there now. That spot is your new home.”

  She was teasing, obviously, but a part of him remembered what his house had felt like the night they’d cooked dinner, the feeling of fullness. Of possibility. It had almost been like—

  The plastic laundry crate cracked loudly, and Jezebel burst out of it, her mouth wide open, her needle-sharp teeth bared, and lunged at Finn’s hand.

  He screamed and leapt backward, only to realize that of course he shouldn’t leave Adalia and Dottie and Tyrion at her mercy.

  But she didn’t even bother with Tyrion, who’d rolled even further onto his back, displaying every bit of his belly, as if to assure her he would never think of challenging her. She merely sniffed in an aggrieved manner, jumped back onto the counter, and started licking up the splashes of smoothie Tyrion hadn’t been able to reach.

  “Well, I guess the smoothie wasn’t such a crazy idea,” Finn said.

  “Yes,” Dottie said, “our combined approaches really did the trick. I expect the two darlings will get on quite well when all is said and done.”

  Adalia, who’d been watching with wide eyes, burst into laughter, bending over with the force of it. “Your face,” she said to Finn between puffs of air. “And that scream.”

  He felt his face flush. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. Your hand wasn’t in the danger zone.”

  But that just made her laugh harder, so much so there were tears running down her face, and then he was laughing too, and Tyrion eye
d them curiously from his position on the ground, as if wondering what kind of a funny farm he’d stumbled into this time.

  “Yes,” Dottie said in a satisfied tone. “I’m very happy with the energy in here.”

  So was Finn.

  Three hours later, he rolled into his parents’ driveway, wishing he could have stayed with Adalia, feeling a strange ache like he already missed her. Was that a thing? Missing someone after only a few hours apart? Maybe he just felt a little uneasy about what had happened right before he left—Adalia had gotten multiple back-to-back text alerts on her phone, and after checking them, she’d hurried him out like she feared he’d give Tyrion fleas. He couldn’t help but wonder if it was Alan again. But surely she would have told him if that creep was still bothering her?

  He shot off a quick text: Hope Tyrion is still doing okay.

  He tapped the side of the phone with his finger. He was tempted to type out something about the texts she’d received just before he left. But that would be weird, right? They probably weren’t at a point where he could just flat out ask her.

  Three dots appeared, indicating she was typing something, and then a photo of Tyrion came through, Jezebel perched on his back.

  The dog looked, understandably, nervous.

  Adalia: I’m afraid to make any sudden moves in case she snaps. Guess Jack’s not the only cat whisperer.

  Finn: You said he’s coming back tonight?

  Adalia: I just heard from him. He’s taking a red-eye again, the psychopath.

  That brought out a smile, but a quick glance up at the house revealed his mother was peering at him from behind the living room curtain. She’d never been the sort to come out running and sweep him into a hug. She wasn’t like Dottie. Still, he knew she wanted to see him. This was her way, even if it wasn’t the approach he would have preferred.

  Finn: Duty calls. Have fun tonight.

  Adalia: Thanks. Dottie’s going to make me dinner. River and Georgie are coming over too. Hope you have fun too.

  Another three dots showed up, but this time she didn’t write anything. He wanted to wait for her reply to come, but his mother was still staring out at him, probably wondering why in the world he was making them wait when he was already forty-five minutes behind schedule.