Page 20 of A Family Affair: The Plan
“Have you ever told anyone that?” The set of his jaw told her he meant what he said, and the fierceness in his expression said he’d followed through. “I have. I’m a little nicer about it, but it’s my job to protect the animals. They’re work and commitment, whether it’s a dog or a cat, and if you only want to commit when it’s convenient, then you shouldn’t get a pet. The pet owners I had in Chicago wanted to ‘breathe’ for their animals, and that was just as bad. I didn’t feel like I could be honest with them about their unhealthy attachment to their dogs and cats, and that was a big issue for me.” He blew out a breath, shook his head. “It caused a lot of problems between me and my ex, who thought dyeing a dog’s fur and painting toenails was a form of self-expression.” Another shake of his head, a muttered, “I’ve heard it all, lived through it all…wished I hadn’t.”
“It sounds like you’re a guardian angel for pets.” She’d never considered half of what he’d mentioned, not as a child or an adult. Of course, she hadn’t thought about having a pet since she was fourteen and grew tired of begging for one.
A shrug, a quiet, “It shouldn’t be that difficult, but there are people who only want the animal until it’s not convenient or they grow tired of the care…or the puppy tears up carpeting and toys and pees in the house and he’s still doing that two years later. It’s all about putting the time in, and expectations.”
“Ah, like a relationship.”
His lips twitched. “Right, but the odds of success are higher with a dog.” Those lips pulled into a slow smile. “Sad but true.”
The man might be skeptical and closed off when he referred to relationships—but he certainly loved animals. “How would a person know what’s the right choice? Would you recommend a puppy, a rescue, a certain breed?”
His eyes lit up. “You’ve got to match the dog and the person, that’s the most important part. And decide what you’re willing to do to give the dog his best life. People think if they plunk hundreds of dollars or more on a dog, then the animal should be the perfect choice for them. Not so. Same with a rescue. Just because you’ve saved them from a bad situation does not mean they understand that and will spend their life thanking you. Again, it’s about setting expectations and consistency.”
“Sounds an awful lot like raising a child.”
He laughed. “Pretty much.”
“If you could get any breed, which would you pick?”
“All of them?” His expression turned thoughtful. “If I had my choice, I’d go with a lab or a lab mix. But I like a good challenge, and a German Shepherd would provide that. I’ve owned Shepherds and I’d consider one of those, but they require a lot of training because they will constantly challenge you. Golden retrievers are easy temperaments and beautiful animals. A German-shorthaired pointer is something else. They have a nose, and they’ll keep your yard clean of rodents, but they’re high energy, and walking three miles a day is a warm-up.” He rubbed his jaw and confessed, “I guess I really would take any or all of them.”
He looked away, his voice drifting. “I have so many plans for the practice and one of these days I hope I can convince my father to listen to them.”
“Don’t give up.” With the push of matchmaking behind them, she could relax, maybe even be a sounding board for his future plans. She and Sam could be friends, and if she noticed the square jaw, full lips, and broad shoulders? That would be categorized as observation, nothing more. As for the gray flecks in his eyes and the way his voice shifted when he spoke about animals? Again, the noticing was merely observation, nothing more…notattraction. “I’d love to hear about your plans.” Howlong had it been since she’d asked an almost stranger such a personal question? Quite a while, but Sam Harrington didn’t feel like a stranger, even though she’d only met him a short time ago.
Thatobservationshould have been a warning, but she’d been lulled by the belief they could bejustfriends and the calming tone of his voice, and didn’t notice the danger of getting too close.
And she should have.
10
Sam might have shut down Harry Blacksworth’s power-matchmaking play, but he missed the real threat that presented itself in the form of a kind-looking woman with a soft voice and a welcome smile.Threedays had passed since Hope and Sam’s trip to Harry’s Folly, and when she saw him at Mimi’s, she didn’t cringe, avoid,ortoss out sarcasms. In fact, she smiled—a real smile—and listened as he shared plans for the practice: grooming, training, rehab, even a class on nutrition. Last night, he’d told her about the “sanctuary” he hoped to build on his property that would provide a safe haven for senior and injured dogs. The man had so many ideas and when he talked about them, his eyes lit up, his expression shifted to what could only be identified as pure joy.
His father had to listen to him.
As for Sam, he stopped avoiding her after the dinner at Harry’s, probably because he wasn’t worried about matchmaking and, hopefully, trusted that she really was in Magdalena to do what she’d said. There were at least three times in the past two days where he’d sought her out, shared more ideas on how he wanted to grow his father’s business. Maybe itwas her enthusiasm that encouraged him to divulge so much, but last night, he’d found her in the sitting room and told her about the five-year-old Great Dane he’d put to sleep a little while ago.Malcolm had a spinal cord tumor. There was nothing we could do for him.He’d slouched onto the couch beside her, so sad, so torn. She listened as he talked about Great Danes.That boy had the gentlest temperament, nothing like his sister, Clementine. She was a chihuahua mix—bossed him around and didn’t care that his foot was bigger than she was…
The talking seemed to help, and Hope was glad she’d been there for him. Friends helped friends, but three days after the dinner at Harry’s, Hope had a visitor who believed there was more going on between Hope and Sam than friendship and if there wasn’t, there should be.
It was two o’clock and she’d just finished her notes on her visit to Lina’s Café: the homemade desserts, the red booths, the gum-snapping waitress with the snarky comments. And the comfort food! How could a person resist homemade blueberry pancakes slathered in syrup? Or a chicken club and a side of coleslaw? Hope hadn’t eaten that type of food in a long time, but she loved the chicken club and snapped a picture of the menu for her next visit.
Of course, she couldn’t resist the peach pie with a side of ice cream… A place like Lina’s Café was a definite must-have when looking for a bed-and-breakfast location. She jotted a few notes about the décor and the staff and had been about to add a listing of the desserts when Mimi tapped on the dining room doorframe.
“Excuse me, Hope? There’s someone to see you.” Mimi lowered her voice. “Would you like to chat in the sitting room or here?”
Hope hadn’t expected a visitor, but maybe someone had heard she’d been interviewing residents and wanted to offercomments on what made Magdalena special. “In here would be fine. Thank you.”
The nod and twinkle in those blue eyes said Hope would indeed be interested in the visitor. “I’ll show her in.”
A few minutes later, a middle-aged woman entered the dining room. Attractive, dark hair streaked with gray. Eyes the color of whiskey. Sam’s eyes. Was this Sam’s mother? Hope kept her breathing even, stood, and held out a hand. “Hello, I’m Hope Newland.”
The woman clasped Hope’s hand in hers, her smile bright. “I’m Joyce Harrington. It’s lovely to meet you.” The smile spread as she released Hope’s hand and eased onto the chair next to her. “I’ve been hoping Sam would bring you by, but my son doesn’t always remember his manners and tends to be shy about this sort of thing.”
What did the woman mean by “this sort of thing”? Was she referring to the fact that her son didn’t want his parents to intrude on his personal life? Oh, she didn’t want that either, but before Hope could respond, Mimi appeared with apple bread and coffee.
“I whipped up two loaves this morning.” She slid a slice onto a plate and handed it to Sam’s mother. “You can take the other loaf home.”
“Thank you! Sam loves apple bread.” She eyed Hope, and said in a soft voice, “There’s not much that boy doesn’t eat and never gains a pound.” Big sigh and a shake of her head. “We should all be so lucky.”
