In Dog We Trust Read online

  Praise for Beth Kendrick’s Novels

  “Kendrick deftly blends exceptionally clever writing, subtly nuanced characters, and a generous dash of romance . . . a flawlessly written story.”

  —Chicago Tribune

  “A sharp, sassy, surprisingly emotional story that will make readers laugh out loud from page one and sigh from the heart at the end.”

  —Roxanne St. Claire, New York Times bestselling author of the Barefoot Bay series

  “Witty, juicy, and lots of fun.”

  —Susan Mallery, New York Times bestselling author of the Mischief Bay series

  “Kendrick’s impeccable sense of comic timing and flair for creating unforgettable characters make this effervescent novel a smart bet.”

  —Booklist (starred review)

  “Kendrick not only shines in portraying the subtleties of female friendship, but also at rendering the unbreakable bond between man (or woman) and dog.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “A warm, winning story about the complications of sisterhood—and the unexpected rewards.”

  —Sarah Pekkanen, New York Times bestselling coauthor of The Wife Between Us

  “Packed with humor, wit, and a lot of heart. A charming and exceptionally entertaining story!”

  —Jane Porter, New York Times bestselling author of Take a Chance on Me

  “A funny, charming story about the power of female friendship.”

  —Kim Gruenenfelder, author of Love the Wine You’re With

  “Kendrick manages to cook up a tender, touching, and very funny story.”

  —Ellen Meister, author of Dorothy Parker Drank Here

  “An engaging, thoroughly enjoyable tale of finding soul mates of the four-legged and two-legged varieties. . . . When you put this book down, you will have a smile on your face and warmth in your heart.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “A delightful romp with depth.”

  —Heroes and Heartbreakers

  “A charming tale about finding the perfect match . . . featuring a lot of laughs, love, and irresistible dogs.”

  —SheKnows Book Lounge

  “An astute and charming look at friendship, love, and self-discovery.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  “A smart, funny spin of happily ever after!”

  —Beth Harbison, New York Times bestselling author of If I Could Turn Back Time

  Also by Beth Kendrick

  Once Upon a Wine

  Put a Ring On It

  New Uses for Old Boyfriends

  Cure for the Common Breakup

  The Week Before the Wedding

  The Lucky Dog Matchmaking Service

  The Bake-Off

  Second Time Around

  The Pre-nup

  Nearlyweds

  Fashionably Late

  Exes and Ohs

  My Favorite Mistake

  BERKLEY

  An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

  1745 Broadway, New York, New York 10019

  Copyright © 2019 by Beth Lavin

  “Readers Guide” copyright © 2019 by Beth Lavin

  Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.

  BERKLEY and the BERKLEY & B colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Kendrick, Beth, author.

  Title: In dog we trust / Beth Kendrick.

  Description: First Edition. | New York: Berkley, 2019.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2018028815 | ISBN 9780399584251 (paperback) | ISBN 9780399584268 (ebook)

  Subjects: | BISAC: FICTION / Contemporary Women. | FICTION / Humorous.

  Classification: LCC PS3611.E535 I5 2019 | DDC 813/.6—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018028815

  First Edition: January 2019

  Cover photographs: Puppies by HTeam/Shutterstock;

  Blue Ribbon by Danny E. Hooks/Shutterstock

  Cover design by Katie Anderson

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Version_1

  For Mark,

  love of my life and piece of work

  acknowledgments

  Thank you to . . .

  Becky Hullinger, fearless cattle rancher with flawless fingernails.

  Ryan Hoffman, estate attorney extraordinaire, who walked me through the finer points of pet trusts and helped me turn dry legal documents into a hotbed of scandal.

  Chandra Years, who turns literary straw into gold.

  Danielle Perez, the best editor a writer could ever hope for.

  Amy Moore-Benson, the best agent a writer could ever hope for.

  Kresley Cole, who has been making my life brighter and my writing better since our fated meeting at the RWA children’s table.

  Marty Etchart, godsend.

  Brianne Butcher, proud mom of the real Carmen.

  My family (especially you, Will), who supports me on every step of this journey with grace, love, and humor. I am so, so lucky to have you.

  contents

  Praise for Beth Kendrick’s Novels

  Also by Beth Kendrick

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Readers Guide

  About the Author

  chapter 1

  “Why are you running like it’s your money or your life?”

  Jocelyn Hillier’s runner’s high plummeted as she answered her cell phone midstride and heard
her mother’s voice.

  “I’ve got a garage full of dirty laundry with your name on it.”

  Jocelyn picked up her pace, her sneakers pounding in a steady rhythm against the loose white gravel beneath the heavy gray November sky. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “We just finished all the Thanksgiving leftovers. How do you have the energy to go for a run?” Her mother sounded incredulous.

  “It’s refreshing. And I have to work off three days’ worth of turkey and mashed potatoes somehow.”

  “If you need to burn some calories, I have enough laundry here to get you ready for the runway,” Rachel promised.

  “Be there in a few minutes.” Jocelyn lifted her face to catch a few stray drops of cold rain. “Just leave everything and I’ll take care of it.”

  Her mother’s tone sharpened. “Where are you right now?”

  “Running?”

  “Don’t play dumb. Running where?”

  “Um . . .” Jocelyn slowed to a walk as she tried to catch her breath. “Shoreline Drive.”

  “Why are you running on Rich Person Road?”

  “Why wouldn’t I run on Rich Person Road?”

  “Nothing good ever comes of mixing with the summer people.” Rachel clicked her tongue. “How many times do I have to say it?”

  “I’m not mixing with anyone. They all packed up and left this morning. Besides, the views are amazing and the road is dirt instead of asphalt. Much better for my knees.” Jocelyn rounded a wide bend in the road and noticed a lone pair of seasonal residents still loading up their SUV. An elderly man and middle-aged woman were attempting to coax two black Labs and a chocolate Lab into the vehicle’s cargo area with no success. The dogs dodged and darted across the driveway while the humans gave chase to no avail.

  She slowed her pace even more as she gazed at the house where the dogs and their owners lived. The vast, sprawling mansion had been constructed two or three years ago and the architect had apparently looked to French chateaus and Tuscan vineyards for his inspiration. The decorative archways, stained glass windows, and curving staircases with marble balustrades looked absurd between the neighboring Cape Cod–style homes covered with cedar shingles and widow’s walks. Jocelyn offered a smile and a wave to the man, who responded with a scowl.

  “Jocelyn?” Rachel’s voice was impatient. “Are you even listening to me?”

  “Yes.” Jocelyn blew out a breath. “But just to refresh, what did you say?” A rustling in a bush across the road caught her eye, and she nearly twisted her ankle as a muddy-pawed, stocky gray dog emerged from the foliage and trotted toward her.

  “Oh my God.” Rachel heaved a mighty sigh. “I said—”

  “Hang on.” Jocelyn let her hand drop as she heard the low rumbling of a car approaching. The little gray dog trotted into the middle of the road.

  Jocelyn heard barking and shouting behind her and whirled around to see the chocolate Labrador sprinting down the driveway, making a beeline for the gray dog.

  The gray dog heard the commotion and froze in the middle of the road, ears pricked up and tail wagging. The Labrador ran faster.

  A sporty red convertible vroomed around the bend, kicking up gravel.

  “Carmen!” the man called in a booming voice.

  “Carmen!” His female companion dashed to the end of the driveway, then stopped and yelled commands from the safety of the lawn. “Come! Come!”

  Carmen ignored them, preferring instead to initiate a thorough canine meet-and-greet in the middle of the road. The two dogs circled each other, sniffing and snuffling, until all Jocelyn could see was a blur of gray and brown.

  The car was fifty yards away.

  Jocelyn waved with both hands to catch the driver’s attention.

  The driver ignored her. The car was forty yards away. Thirty.

  Cursing under her breath, Jocelyn dashed directly into the car’s path, caught a dog’s collar in each hand, and dragged them to safety on the other side of the road.

  For a moment, all she could hear was the thud of her heartbeat in her ears, the skidding of tires against gravel, and the panicked screams of the dogs’ owners.

  “Jocelyn?” Her mother’s voice, tinny and distant, drifted out of the cell phone she’d dropped in the road. “Joss?”

  The car’s driver, a tall, blond man in his late twenties, slammed out of the car. “Are you okay?”

  “What the hell?” The scowly old man stormed up to the car. “Watch where you’re going. You could have killed someone!”

  “I’m sorry.” The blond man looked distraught. “This is a new car, I was trying to adjust the seat heater—”

  “You nearly ran over my dog!” The old man’s face was ruddy with rage.

  “And me,” Jocelyn added. The old man ignored her. The young man turned to her and continued to apologize.

  “Carmen!” The woman pried Jocelyn’s hand from the Labrador’s collar so she could reclaim the dog. “I told you to come.”

  The little gray dog surveyed the agitated humans with bewilderment. Jocelyn scooped him up and held him close against her fleece running vest. “Don’t worry, little buddy. You’ll be okay.”

  The next few moments were a cacophony of accusation. The old man berated the car driver. The woman berated the Labrador. The car driver retorted that it was obscene to care more about a dog’s life than a human being’s.

  “My dogs are much better people than any of the people I know!” The elderly man harrumphed.

  “Carmen is a pedigreed future world champion,” the woman added. “How many people can say that?”

  Jocelyn rolled her eyes and decided to heed her mother’s advice about avoiding Rich Person Road. She gazed down at her scruffy companion. “I think my work is done here.”

  The car driver stopped arguing with the old man and turned back to her with those soulful blue eyes. “I’m sorry. So sorry. I’ll never forgive myself for what almost happened.”

  “It’s fine.” Jocelyn was suddenly very aware of the sweat on her forehead and her disheveled ponytail. “I should’ve worn more visible clothing. All this gray-on-gray is hard to see.” The little gray dog whined in protest. “That goes for you, too.”

  The old man finally looked Jocelyn in the eye. “You saved Carmen.”

  “Oh, well, I mean . . .” Jocelyn didn’t know where to look. “I just did what anybody would have done.”

  “No. Not everybody would risk their life for my dog.” The old man glanced meaningfully at the woman. “Clearly.”

  “It wasn’t just your dog, it was this guy, too.” Jocelyn hoisted up the gray mutt. “I’m a sucker for a dog in distress.”

  The woman glared at her.

  “I better get going.” Jocelyn shifted the gray dog to one hand and scooped up her phone with the other. “I have to . . .” But she seemed to be physically incapable of telling this trio of one-percenters that she had to hustle on home to wash other people’s soiled linens.

  “I’ll give you a ride,” the blond man offered.

  Jocelyn took two steps back. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Oh, come on.” He smiled, and there were dimples and dazzling white teeth left and right. “I have heated seats.”

  She found herself smiling back. “So you said.”

  The old man stepped in between them, all business. “You live around here?” he demanded.

  “Yes,” Jocelyn said.

  “What’s your name?” he asked, as though taking a police report.

  “Um. Not to be rude, but why do you ask?”

  “I’ve been looking for someone to help care for my dogs. Walk them, play with them, wear them out.” He lifted one bushy eyebrow. “Clearly, they’re in need of more exercise.”

  “Hey!” his companion protested. “What about me?”

  The old man�
�s glare was withering. “You train them, Lois. You groom them and show them and motivate them to win best in breed. I need someone to take care of them when they’re not in the ring. Someone who can love them.”

  Lois the trainer reacted as if he’d slapped her. “How can you say that? I do love them!”

  The old man tilted his head toward the scuffs the car’s tires had left in the gravel. “Not enough.” While Lois continued to sputter protests, he nodded at Jocelyn. “You’re hired.”

  “Yeah, I don’t really want to get involved,” Jocelyn said.

  “Too late.” The man fished a business card out of the pocket of his navy blue barn coat. “I’m Peter Allardyce, and these are Carmen, Curtis, and Hester.” He pointed out each dog in turn. “Write down your phone number. You’ll be hearing from me.”

  Jocelyn did as she was told, cowed by the authoritarian steel in the old man’s voice.

  “Okay.” The dimpled driver rested his hand gently under Jocelyn’s elbow. “Let’s get you home safe and sound.”

  Jocelyn looked at his face and found herself unable to argue. Again. Must be a rich person superpower. “But what about him?” she asked, nodding down at the scruffy gray mutt still in her arms. “I can’t take him home with me, and I can’t just leave him here.”

  He smiled again, and Jocelyn realized, This is what it’s like to live in a cologne ad.

  “Does he have a tag on his collar?” he asked.

  Jocelyn peered at the tarnished metal buckle on the faded and frayed nylon collar. “No. He doesn’t look very well cared for.”

  “Maybe he ran away,” the man suggested.

  “Maybe. Or maybe someone dumped him by the side of the road.” Jocelyn had witnessed this firsthand. At the end of every summer season, tourists abandoned the pets they’d purchased on a whim when the puppies or kittens became too rambunctious or coordinating air transport proved too costly. Everyone who worked in Black Dog Bay’s rental industry had at least one heartbreaking story of a bewildered animal they’d had to re-home when the owners returned to “real life.”

  The guy looked horrified. “People do that?”

  Jocelyn nodded. “Oh yeah.”

  “Then let’s take him to the shelter—”