Just One Kiss (Appletree Cove) Page 7

  The purebred poodle gazed adoringly at Sawyer and trotted to his boots.

  Grace bet the ex-girlfriend had picked out the pretty and very feminine dog just to make a point. Sky waited for his next command. Sawyer looked at Grace expectantly.

  “Have her sit near the window, maybe, so that I can get natural light?”

  “Just take it already.”

  Grace pet the soft fur on Sky’s back and situated the dog next to a potted palm.

  Sawyer grumbled, but Grace ignored him. “You gave me an assignment, and I’d like to do it. Why don’t you go”—she gestured out back—“boss those guys around for a while?”

  Sawyer gritted his teeth and tromped off to his office. Kita forgot all about the praise Grace had lavished for her photo shoot and joined her master. Diamond padded away, too, probably to stay out of cell phone camera range.

  Sky, however, preened for Grace, sitting up straight, her furry gray head tilted at a dainty angle, her black eyes shiny as if quite pleased to be the center of attention.

  Bert, the golden brown and black-furred mutt, loped over to Sky and gave her a big lick. Sky snapped at him.

  Grace laughed softly. “All right, lover boy. Your turn.”

  But Bert didn’t want to sit for a picture. He had to be a puppy, because he didn’t want to do anything but run around and sniff stuff. He lifted his leg on one of the potted plants, and Grace yelled, “No! Don’t, Bert.”

  Sawyer ran out of his office, skidding to a halt as he surveyed the scene. “What happened?”

  “He was going to…” Grace pointed to Bert and then the ficus. Bert’s ears lowered, and he turned his back to them as if he knew he was in trouble.

  “Marking his territory.” Sawyer crossed his arms, his face serious. “Can’t have it or else all the dogs will do it.” Sawyer took Bert by the collar and put his nose to the pot. “No.”

  Bert whined.

  Grace felt terrible, but she couldn’t let him do it. Sawyer was all about behavior and dog training, and indoor bathroom habits seemed like it would be at the top of the “bad dog” list.

  “Kita and Diamond don’t do that.”

  “No, but they’ve been taught properly.” Sawyer studied Bert with a lifted brow.

  Grace sighed. “I’m sure he’ll learn soon.”

  Sawyer tugged on the hair at the back of his head. “This is the difficult part of working with rescues. You have to undo all their previous bad behaviors.” He dropped to one knee to look Bert in the eye. “You’re a tough nut, Bert, but you will conform.”

  Grace brought up her cell phone to capture the intense silent interchange between dog and master. Who would win?

  Bert’s long pink tongue licked Sawyer on the nose. Sawyer turned the color of the brick building, and Grace excused herself to go laugh in the bathroom so she didn’t further upset her boss.

  When she came out, Sawyer was gone and his office door was closed. Bert had been leashed to the base of the stairwell as far away from the potted ficus as possible, utterly miserable.

  “Aw, poor Bert.” Getting onto her knees, she began snapping picture after picture of the dog. He may be troublesome, but Bert certainly emoted. Grace could see Bert’s frustration turn to amusement when she engaged with him. The pup somehow conveyed simultaneous hilarity and sadness.

  After taking thirty or forty photos, she uploaded them from her phone to a photo program and had fun editing the images, enhancing the colors and contrasts she wanted. She sent what she’d done to Sawyer’s email address. When she noticed Kasam Kramer’s business card on her desk, which Sawyer had left there, she also emailed the photos to Bark Camp’s marketer to see what he thought.

  There wasn’t a whole lot she was confident about since learning of the taxes she owed, but she knew good pictures when she saw them, and maybe she could make some extra money.

  Out the back window, Grace noticed Jimmy assembling the new barbecue grill as the guys finished up their work. It was nice that Sawyer had asked her to stay, but she had a difficult time thinking clearly around him. And she’d told him she already had a date. Not only that, but how could she possibly relax and enjoy a barbecue when her home was in jeopardy?

  She was counting the days until she could get the axle on her van replaced, and Mr. Haviland had left her a message yesterday, reminding her that she had three weeks to gather thirty thousand dollars—as if she could forget.

  Returning to her workstation, Grace printed out her favorite pictures of the dogs. She snickered at the image of Bert licking Sawyer’s face. The man needed some fun in his life, she thought, even as she acknowledged how his dominance in the photo spoke volumes. His set jaw had power without cruelty. His gaze remained on the pup’s. Sawyer was Alpha. Bert adored him anyway.

  “Don’t blame you there, Bert,” she said, sneaking a glance over her shoulder to make sure Sawyer’s office door was still closed.

  The sound of men laughing filtered in from outside.

  Realizing it was well after four thirty, she set the printouts on the counter before heading out. No sign of Sawyer. Should she say good night or just go?

  Purse over her arm, she ducked out of the building before she changed her mind. Her phone rang as she reached her van. “Hello?”

  “Grace Sheldon?” a man’s modulated tones asked.

  “This is Grace.” She opened the van door, wincing at the squeak. Time to oil the hinges again.

  “This is Griffin Carlisle. I hope you don’t mind me calling you, but Carlos Perez gave me your name and number. I’m interested in photographs for a coffee table book.”

  Grace bit her lower lip to keep from screaming with excitement. Bless you, Carlos! She breathed in slowly to calm herself. “Mr. Perez mentioned you might be calling.”

  “I love the raw nature expressed in your photos. I’ve ordered my favorites off your website to see how they look in print.”

  “I would’ve gladly brought you my portfolio,” she said. He’d ordered prints!

  “I didn’t want to bother you unless I was prepared to make an offer.”

  Her knees buckled, and she leaned against the old van. An offer? “Oh?”

  “I’m flying out of the country in the morning, but I’d like to get together next week to discuss my proposal. I have contacts at multiple major publishers, and I’m very confident of a contract.”

  “I would love to meet next week,” Grace managed to say, her mind swimming with possibilities of getting her van fixed and then negotiating with Mr. Haviland. “Let me know when, and I’ll be there. Thank you, Mr. Carlisle.”

  “Griffin,” he said smoothly.

  She automatically compared his cultured voice to Sawyer’s deeper tones but made herself stop. Her boss could not be the bar every other man was set against.

  They ended the call, and Grace immediately dialed Lottie on a euphoric high. Mr. Carlisle had publishing contacts! Griffin. The name alone denoted wealth and connections.

  “Lottie, I’m saved! Grab Miss V and come over.” It was time they had something to celebrate on a Friday night. The chicken coop was fine for another day.

  Lottie’s words were garbled with tears. “I can’t.”

  “You okay?” Her joy popped like a soap bubble. Lottie didn’t cry.

  “Violet’s had the worst day. She’s screaming in her room, and I can’t get her to stop. I had to pick her up early, and the principal wants to have a teacher meeting with me on Monday to discuss options.”

  That didn’t seem positive at all. They couldn’t kick a little girl out of elementary school, could they? Grace climbed into the van and sat behind the wheel, ready to slay dragons. “What options?”

  “I don’t know. They say she’s disrupting the class.” Her best friend, the strongest woman she knew, broke down into sobs.

  Her plans for a celebration chang
ed in an instant. “I’m coming over with Ben and Jerry’s. Double chocolate.” Her news about the coffee table book could wait.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sawyer heard the coughs and groans of Grace’s VW van as she left for the day.

  He’d found Bert inside, staring out the window at the party. The dog was not making his relationship with Grace easy.

  No—relationship wasn’t the right word. They’d been at odds since they’d first met, and yet he couldn’t stop reliving their slide down the sand dune, and how she’d felt beneath him, or how she rocked a bikini, or squinted her eyes when she concentrated at the computer, which for some reason negated every other logical thought in his brain. What was she thinking, posing the dogs for photos? A scarf and sunglasses on his tough pit bulls?

  Now that Grace was gone, it was safe to leave his office without making a fool of himself in front of her and join the barbecue in progress, but first he’d prepare things in the kitchen. There, Sawyer no longer ran the risk of making an ass of himself in front of her. It would be hysterical if the mishaps were happening to someone else, like one of his brothers. He had nothing against the occasional romantic comedy so long as he wasn’t the star.

  Rudy called from the lobby, “Sawyer?”

  “In the kitchen,” he answered.

  The veteran hustled into the break room. “Me and Linc got all the kennels put together. Jimmy’s finished with the grill. Can I help?”

  “Want to slice up some tomatoes and onions?” asked Sawyer.

  Rudy washed his hands and then the veggies, using a plate as a cutting board. “Thanks for the work,” the man said, keeping his gaze down.

  “You guys have been great.” Sawyer laid out the buns on a tray.

  “Where are you going to get all your dogs from?” Rudy finished the onions and washed a tomato.

  “I work with a few shelters and kennels, places I know treat their animals right. Why?” He sensed it wasn’t just a casual question.

  “’Cause I know a guy in Seattle who raises collies. You need a specific breed?”

  He watched Rudy cut a tomato into even slices. “Collies are great, but so are shepherds or labs. I find many breeds work. Sometimes, it’s more dependent on the person than the dog. They have to match temperaments.” He thought of Bert and winced.

  “Well, you sure hit the mark with Sarge and Captain Bill.”

  “Thanks.”

  “If I could get one of them collies, you think maybe you could train him? I mean, what does something like that cost?”

  Sawyer faced the ex-soldier. “Have you got a house? An apartment?”

  Rudy’s mouth turned down. “Nah, I’m in the park for the summer, but Bill says he can help me find a place for the winter. Being able to work helps my anxiety. But this ain’t steady, you know?”

  Sawyer’s plan had been to hire one guy, maybe two, to keep the dog shelters clean, but he hadn’t said anything about that just yet. It was only the first week. “We’ll have to see,” Sawyer hedged. “Seems to me you could get a kitchen job anywhere. Did you have a lot of KP duty?” he joked. “Gordon Ramsey couldn’t have sliced that onion finer.”

  Rudy put down the knife with a laugh. He’d adapted very well to the loss of his fingers. “Nah, I’ve just always liked to cook.”

  Sawyer gathered ketchup, mayo, pickles, chips, water bottles, and a selection of sodas. Normally, he’d serve beer, but since this was a work function with the government, he didn’t want to cross a line.

  Laughter hooted from the front lobby. Sawyer and Rudy left the kitchen to where Bill was standing beside Grace’s desk, paging through a series of pictures. They were of the dogs in various poses, mostly Bert.

  “These are great,” Bill said cheerfully. “I especially like this one.” He waved the picture of Bert’s pink tongue on Sawyer’s nose.

  He frowned and folded his hands behind his back. Grace made him appear ridiculous without trying, even without being here. How did she have that power over him?

  Bill lifted another one. “Ah, but this is my favorite. She put a sticky note on it.”

  Sawyer grabbed the photo. He and Bert, human eye to canine eye—man to furry beast. He was mentally letting the dog know he, Sawyer, was Alpha. Bert acknowledged that fact. He had to admit at the cost of his pride that the image was good.

  Better than good—a back and forth between man and dog where Grace had captured their silent communication.

  “It’s all right.” Even with a cell phone, Grace knew what she was doing. But did it have to hurt his dignity so much?

  “The girl’s got talent,” Bill said.

  As if to rub salt in his wounds, his phone rang. It was his lawyer, so he excused himself and went to his office.

  “Hey, Gary. What’s up?” His lawyer rarely had good news. “Is this about the painting?”

  “No…that’s handled and for a reasonable price,” Gary said. “It should be shipped to your new address next week.” He exhaled loudly. “Daniella wants her dogs back and is threatening to sue.”

  The air whooshed from his gut, and Sawyer bent over, as if sucker-punched. The dogs were his. “And you said?”

  “Well, it was just a matter of time before she went there.”

  “Kita and Diamond are mine and were mine long before we dated. She bought Sky—the poodle—and then left the dog when she stole my furniture.”

  “Maybe give her the poodle and she’ll leave your other two alone?”

  “Daniella abandoned that dog,” Sawyer said. “So do your job, Gary, and let her know she isn’t getting Sky.” He’d grown attached to the gray poof ball.

  Gary hummed but then said, “Okay. Abandoned is a strong word. I’ll draft a letter.”

  “What does she want from me?”

  His lawyer answered the rhetorical question. “Blood?”

  Sawyer shook his head. He hadn’t fought her for anything. His reputation as a man of integrity, saving dogs, pulling himself up by the bootstraps after the military, had been dinged by her false accusations of infidelity. The network that was airing his TV show was as pure as Hallmark.

  He’d filmed the pilot and, around the same time, asked Daniella to leave. She’d lashed out like a viper with made-up emails and letters from other women. The network had immediately put the possible show on the backburner until things cooled off. He had a year on the option for them to act. Hadn’t she done enough to him?

  “She wants to make me miserable. I get that. I never loved her, and that just pissed her off.”

  “Yeah?” Gary had heard this all before but earned his pay by pretending to care.

  “She never loved me, either,” Sawyer pointed out.

  “Right. This is petty revenge so she can stay in the news. Every time she does this, both your names are splashed across the internet, which keeps her relevant but screws you.”

  Sawyer groaned. “I hope this doesn’t cost me the show.” He noticed a nick on his thumb from pounding nails. He used to have manicured hands…but didn’t miss them.

  “I’ll handle it,” Gary said. “It’s probably best if you keep a low profile for the next few months.”

  “How am I supposed to advertise Bark Camp without being in the public eye?” He’d put all his money into this venture, and it had to succeed, which required his name and professional reputation, what was left of it.

  “I don’t know. Whatever you do, don’t date anybody,” Gary advised. “It will be bad enough if she finds out about the new project, but add another woman? Might send her over the edge.”

  Anger rushed through him when he hadn’t been angry in a long time. Enough was enough.

  “I’m too busy for that,” he said bitterly. “You do your job, Gary, and I’ll try to keep the training center from crashing before it gets off the ground.” He hung up, the handset of the phone maki
ng a satisfying thud against the dialer that you didn’t get with a cell phone.

  Now what? Positive action to blunt negative emotion. He’d learned years ago to channel his anger at how the dogs in the illegal fights were treated into saving those he could to rehabilitate them.

  Sawyer couldn’t fathom bringing anybody—Grace’s blue eyes flashed to mind—into the drama that was his world, thanks to Daniella. He’d join the guys and enjoy some burgers. Celebrate the hard work they’d done so far. With a whistle for Kita, Diamond, and Sky, he got up from his desk. Bert was at his side. “Good boy.”

  These dogs were his livelihood. His family. He would protect what was his and fight his ex in court if necessary.

  Bill knocked on the door just as Sawyer opened it. The scent of barbecuing beef from outside wafted in. He scraped a hand over his strawberry blond hair. “Everything all right? Burgers are almost ready.”

  Sawyer saw the guys through the window playing Frisbee and drinking sodas around the BBQ. Smoke billowed. It made him miss his brothers back in L.A. Family barbecues.

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “I could eat.”

  The men walked across the empty lobby. He had to get some furniture in here now that it was painted. Shelves. Training supplies. Oh, and clients would be important. How could he spread the news about Bark Camp without alerting Daniella?

  “I just wanted to make sure that you weren’t mad at Grace,” Bill said, giving him a sideways glance.

  Sawyer stopped short, and the dogs, including Sarge, all bumped into one another. Thoughts of Grace were usually accompanied by wistfulness, not anger. “Why?”

  “Because of the pictures. They’re good.” Bill gestured to the guys. “I know we all busted up, but nobody is laughing at you.”

  Sawyer tipped his head back and groaned. “You think I can’t take a joke? I am one of five boys, Bill. I know not to take myself too seriously. No, that was a personal call.” He wouldn’t put a damper on the Friday night barbecue by sharing Daniella’s poison. “Bill, Grace is a sweetheart, but she’s my employee. Let me tell you a story about my oldest brother Juan…”