The Lucky Dog Matchmaking Service Read online

  He muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “And a shock collar.”

  Lara’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m sorry—what was that?”

  Evan set his jaw and returned her stubborn stare.

  “What exactly do you want me to do here?” she demanded. “Do you want me to move out?”

  His expression went from irritated to stunned. “Who said anything about moving out?”

  Lara looked away.

  “Why is leaving always your first line of defense?” He nodded toward the mountain of boxes in the living room. “I’m still trying to get you to actually move in. You’ve been here over a month and you haven’t unpacked.”

  “I don’t want to get settled until I’m sure you can handle the reality of living with me. I mean, if a counter-surfed cake is going to upset you this much . . .”

  “I’m allowed to be upset that they ate your birthday cake,” he said. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with you. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” Lara brightened, hoping this would wrap up the argument.

  But then Evan asked the question that could never be unasked: “But do you love me more than the dogs?”

  Lara got a wineglass out of the cabinet, poured herself a splash of Shiraz, and took a long, deliberate sip before answering. “Must I remind you of our contract? The contract that you yourself drew up and signed on the night you asked me to move in?” She glanced over at the cocktail napkin stuck to the refrigerator door with a magnet. Scribbled in pen on the napkin was Evan’s solemn vow: I, Evan Walker, do hereby promise to become a “dog person” and never complain about shedding or slobbering, so help me God.

  “This is life with rescue dogs.” A note of defiance crept into her voice. “Things get messy. Things get eaten. You’re going to get to know the vet on a first-name basis.”

  From the dog room, they heard barking and the scrabble of claws against the wooden door.

  “They’ve scratched the hell out of the drywall.” Evan rubbed his forehead.

  “I’ll call a contractor and have it repaired,” Lara offered. “That’s what I want for my birthday—new drywall.”

  “No, no, I’ll take care of it.” He blew out a breath. “It’s my house, and besides, you already spent how much at the vet this month?”

  “About twenty-three hundred dollars.” Lara paused. “And it’s our house. Right?”

  He opened his arms to her, and as he held her, she could feel both of their bodies relax. “Our house.” He rested his chin on the top of her head. “I’m sorry. It’s just . . . all these dogs . . . I don’t understand why you feel the need to take on other people’s problems.”

  Lara pressed her cheek into the warmth of his chest, willing him to understand. “They’re not ‘problems.’ Each of these dogs has a purpose. They’re not just pets; they’re lifelines. I’ve seen it, Evan. I’ve lived it.”

  * * *

  Lara had been sixteen when she first fell in love with a rescue dog. She’d come home from high school on the Friday before spring break, waterlogged from the rainstorm outside and frazzled from a week of studying for midterms and trying to blend in with the other students in her class. Not fit in—she knew she would never feel at ease with the kids at the exclusive private school her mother insisted she attend. She just wanted to blend in, render herself invisible so that no one would notice all her flaws and insecurities.

  But she could never escape her mother’s notice.

  “Honestly, Lara, just look at those nails,” was her mother’s greeting when she walked through the door. As the work-obsessed owner of a chain of local salons, Justine usually didn’t come home until well after dinnertime, but apparently she’d decided it was her maternal duty to say good-bye before Lara headed off for vacation. “So sloppy and trashy.”

  Lara opened her mouth, tempted to retort that if Justine hadn’t practically forced her to get a manicure over the weekend, chipped polish wouldn’t be a problem. But all she said was, “I must’ve peeled it off during my pre-calc exam. I didn’t even realize I was doing it.”

  Justine sighed as she slipped off her light tan Burberry raincoat and hung it in the hall closet. “What am I going to do with you?”

  Lara bit the inside of her cheek, forced herself to silently count to ten, then glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes before her father arrived to take her camping up in the northern Arizona mountains. She had to endure fifteen more minutes of criticism, and then she would have a whole week of freedom, far away from her mother’s demands and disapproval. She could wear sweatpants, forgo washing her hair, and spend all day with mud lodged under her fingernails. Most of the girls in her class were jetting off to exotic locales—surfing in Hawaii, skiing in Aspen—but Lara wasn’t envious. Any break from the pressure of prep school and Justine’s impossible standards was a dream vacation.

  She turned her back on her mother and clicked on the TV to derail the conversation. “I’m all packed.”

  Justine stepped out of her high-heeled pumps and carefully wiped the raindrops off the Italian leather shoes. “Good. I’ll expect you back by six o’clock on Sunday. Do you have any homework you need to get done for next week?”

  Lara ignored her and turned up the TV. Thirteen more minutes, twelve more minutes . . .

  The phone rang in the kitchen, and her mother answered on the second ring. Justine’s voice dropped immediately after she said hello, and Lara grabbed the remote and turned the TV way down so she could eavesdrop.

  “You cannot keep doing this, Gil. She’s counting on you. . . . I’m well aware she’s not a little kid anymore. She’s sixteen, and adolescence is a very tough stage. . . . No, absolutely not . . .”

  Careful not to rustle the cushions, Lara got up off the couch and tiptoed over to the kitchen door. She held her breath.

  Justine’s tone went glacial. “Well, I guess you have to do what you have to do, but you’re going to tell her yourself. . . . I am sick and tired of always being the bad cop. . . . No, you tell her.”

  Lara sprang away from the doorway and tried to look innocent as Justine charged into the family room, brandishing the cordless phone at arm’s length as if it were a handgun.

  “Your father would like a word with you.”

  Lara knew what she was about to hear, but she kept her tone upbeat as she pressed the phone to her ear. “Hi, Daddy. What’s up?”

  All she heard in response was a dial tone.

  She put the phone down. “He’s not coming.”

  Justine sank down on the sofa. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s fine.” Lara forced a smile. “He must’ve . . . Something must’ve come up, right?”

  “That’s what he said.” Justine patted the cushion next to her, but Lara refused to sit down. During the silence that followed, she avoided her mother’s pitying gaze and focused instead on the sound of cars splashing by in the puddles outside.

  “You don’t want to go camping, anyway,” Justine said. “It’s supposed to rain all week. You would have been miserable.”

  Lara finally snapped and lashed out at her mother. “No, you would be miserable. You’re the one who hates camping. You’re the one who’s, like, physically incapable of having fun.”

  Her mother sat back, tilting her chin up. “Here we go. Your dad gets to be the fun parent, and I’m stuck being the evil disciplinarian, right? The witch who pays your tuition and buys all your clothes and makes sure you have a roof over your head.”

  “Oh, so now I’m the reason you’re a buzzkill ice queen? I didn’t ask to be born!”

  “Lara Madigan, you lower your voice this instant. If you’re angry at your father, yell at him. Don’t yell at me.”

  But Lara couldn’t yell at her father; he wouldn’t even stay on the phone long enough to tell her he was bailing on spring break. So she kept glaring at her mother, so glossy and remote in designer clothes and sleekly styled hair. She had never been able to reconcile this version of
Justine with the giggling, windswept bride she’d glimpsed in a snapshot of her parents’ wedding day. With every year, Justine became more guarded, more tightly wound. “You and Dad used to have fun together, right?”

  Justine didn’t reply, but her expression flickered for an instant.

  Lara persisted. “You weren’t always like this.”

  Her mother’s lips were a hard white line. “Like what?”

  “Like nothing’s ever good enough for you.” Lara’s heart ached and she wanted to make her mother share some of that pain. “You used to be different. You wouldn’t have married Dad if you hadn’t thought he was your soul mate.”

  Justine let out a dry little laugh. “Don’t be naive. Soul mates don’t exist.”

  “Then why did you marry him?”

  “I was nineteen and I thought I knew everything.” Justine’s voice dripped with contempt for her younger self. “I was ‘in love.’ And now I’m older and wiser, and I’m here to tell you: Love doesn’t solve your problems. You have to take care of yourself. I don’t want you to ever depend on a man, Lara. That’s why I’m busting my ass to give you the best education, the best opportunities.”

  Lara started picking at her nail polish again.

  “Stop that.” Justine checked herself, taking a deep breath as she got to her feet. “Come on. Let’s go to the salon and get you a fresh manicure. You’ll feel better.”

  Lara brushed past her mother and grabbed the pristine Burberry trench coat from the closet on her way out the door. “I’m going for a walk.”

  “Don’t you dare get that coat dirty!” Justine cried. “Get back here this instant, young lady!”

  But Lara slammed the door behind her and ran down the driveway, turning her face up so that rain plastered her long dark hair against her cheeks.

  All she wanted was to be left alone, she told herself as she splashed down the sidewalk toward the park. All she wanted was to be invisible.

  She didn’t realize she was crying until her nose started running. Burning with anger and rebellion, she wiped it on the sleeve of her mom’s precious trench coat.

  Justine would be furious.

  Good.

  Lara walked for almost an hour, wandering aimlessly until she ended up at the small commercial center on the outskirts of the upscale neighborhood. The bank, jewelry repair shop, and vet clinic were all closed at this hour on a Friday. A large cardboard box rested on the doorstep of the vet clinic. The seams were already starting to come apart from the water seeping up from the sidewalk. Scrawled on the side of the box in black ink was a single word: FREE.

  Lara knew what she would find before she even looked inside and, sure enough, when she opened the top flap she discovered a tiny black puppy, shivering and huddled in the corner.

  She was frozen in place. A thousand thoughts seemed to surface—first and foremost: mine. When the puppy peered up at her with pleading brown eyes, Lara’s purpose became clear to her.

  When she found her voice, she murmured, “Everything’s going to be okay.” And for once she truly believed that. She reached for the puppy. It scrambled into her hands, tumbling over its feet to get closer to her.

  This lonely little creature needed her.

  Almost as much as she needed it.

  She picked up the dog and tucked it underneath her coat, nestling the tiny trembling body next to her chest.

  “Don’t worry,” she murmured. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

  The puppy whimpered at the sound of her voice. Then it peed on the lining of Justine’s coat.

  Lara ran all the way home and when she opened the front door, her mother commanded, “Change into dry clothes. You’re going to catch pneumonia.”

  “In a second. I’ve got to take care of my dog first.” Lara unbuttoned the coat and produced the shivering, skinny little pup. “Mom, meet Beacon.”

  “Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. You are not keeping that thing. We are not keeping that thing.”

  “Oh yes, we are. And you’re wrong, Mom. Soul mates do exist.”

  * * *

  Lara gazed up at her boyfriend with the same steadfast conviction she’d shown her mother all those years ago. “My dog Beacon saved my life in high school. He kept me sane through all the crazy drama of adolescence. He got me through college, my first jobs, a bunch of crappy apartments, and bad breakups. My mom could never understand why I loved him so much, since he wasn’t beautiful and he didn’t have a fancy pedigree, but there was just something about him.” She smiled wistfully, remembering the tiny, floppy-eared Chihuahua mix. “He died two years ago, and I’ll probably never have that same connection with another dog. But I know it exists, and my job is to match people up with the dog that can save them the way Beacon saved me. This is my calling. Love me, love my dogs.”

  “I do love you.” Evan cupped her cheek in his palm. “And I’m sure I’ll start loving the dogs, too. Plus, they’ll motivate me to learn how to install drywall.”

  “That’s the spirit. Now give me five minutes to change, and let’s go have dinner far away from the scene of the crime. And when we get home”—she slid her hands up his biceps and gave a saucy smile—“I have some interesting ideas involving nudity and that bowl of frosting.”

  Chapter 3

  Lara white-knuckled the station wagon’s steering wheel the next morning as she gunned the car down the quiet suburban street and screeched to a halt in front of her best friend’s house. Not pausing to yank the keys out of the ignition, she dashed across the driveway and rang the bell.

  “Thank God you’re here,” Kerry said when she opened the door. A tiny, square-jawed redhead with a huge personality, Kerry was the cofounder with Lara of their canine rescue group, Lucky Dog. Although she was in the final weeks of pregnancy, she had managed to maintain her wiry frame, and she looked like she’d tucked a volleyball under her maternity tank top.

  Lara scanned her friend for signs of distress. “I couldn’t even understand your voice mail. Are you in labor?”

  “No, no, I’m fine, but we’ve got a mastiff on the loose. Titus got out of the yard somehow.” Kerry opened the door wider to accommodate her belly, and a little yellow terrier streaked out between her feet. “Murphy, no! Not another one!”

  Lara raised her hand, snapped her fingers, and commanded gently but firmly, “Come.”

  Murphy stopped in his tracks, pivoted, and trotted back with his mouth open in a naughty dog grin. He sat down at Lara’s feet and looked up expectantly for his treat.

  “Good boy.” Lara reached down, put a hand on Murphy’s collar, and motioned for Kerry to sit on the front stoop. “Calm down. Breathe.”

  “What the hell?” Kerry remained standing. “How come all the dogs listen to you and ignore me? I told Titus to come, and he galloped off like he didn’t even hear me.” She started toward the station wagon, bracing both hands on her lower back. “We have to find him. And we have to take your car, because there’s no way Titus is going to fit into that stupid car Richard bought me.”

  “You mean the brand-new German-engineered convertible in your garage?” Lara said. “That ‘stupid car’?”

  “That’s the one. German engineering doesn’t do you any good when you’re trying to squeeze your third-trimester belly behind the wheel and a mastiff in the passenger seat.” Kerry scowled. “I’m trading it in for a minivan. Mark my words.” She climbed into Lara’s car. Murphy leapt in beside her and braced his front paws on the dashboard. “Hurry! Head toward that white house and then go around the block.”

  Lara started the car and eased into a five-mile-per-hour cruise. “Why the hysterical voice mail? This is a nice neighborhood; there’s hardly any traffic. I’m sure Titus won’t get hit.”

  “I’m not worried about traffic.” Kerry rolled down the window, listening for telltale barks. “Last time he got out, he dug up our neighbor’s flower bed. She was furious, and her husband is a gun enthusiast.”

  The car crawled down the wide, empty stre
et. As both women—and Murphy—searched for any sign of Titus, Lara recounted the previous night’s birthday cake debacle.

  “So basically, you distracted Evan with sex and sugar,” Kerry summed up.

  “Correct.” Lara turned right as Murphy stuck his nose out the window and whined.

  “But now everybody’s happy?”

  “Until the next canine crime spree.” Lara scanned yards on both sides of the street. “That’s the problem. I can’t keep all five dogs out of trouble forever. And even if I could, there’s always a new one coming down the pike. Jason from the Shayland Animal Hospital just left me a voice mail. He’s got a Rhodesian ridgeback mix he wants me to evaluate this afternoon.” Although she taught private obedience classes evenings and weekends, Lara’s “real job” was being a veterinary drug rep. She visited local clinics on behalf of a pharmaceutical distributor. The job didn’t offer great benefits and her salary consisted mainly of performance bonuses, but there were other perks. Such as substantially discounted medical care for the sick and injured dogs she and Kerry took in. “Apparently, this one’s got some kind of funky skin condition. Evan’s going to love that.”

  “Hang on a second.” Kerry grimaced and pressed a hand to her stomach. “I swear this kid’s doing the Worm in there.”

  Lara’s eyes widened as Kerry winced again. “Listen to me. Do not start having contractions.” She grabbed the stainless-steel water bottle from the cup holder. “Drink. Stop stressing.”

  “I’m fine. I have at least two more weeks to go. Plus I refuse to give birth until Richard gets back from Russia.” Kerry’s husband was a corporate trainer for an international company that sent him all over the world.

  “Which will be . . . ?”

  “Friday. Saturday at the very latest.”

  “Which way now?” Lara asked after they’d circled the block to no avail.

  “Turn right. There’s a playground a few blocks over, and you know Titus loves little kids.” Kerry chugged some water. “I’m sorry about Evan and the cake, Lar. This is my fault, really. If I hadn’t gotten married and moved out on you last year—”