1 Dog Collar Crime (11 page)

“Sure. But it doesn’t determine how I live my life.”

Otis barked and Lucie gestured to Frankie to walk with her. “When I was ten, a kid in my class told one of my friends that my father wasn’t away working, that he was in jail. That’s how I found out. My mother had told me my dad was building a new restaurant in another state and would be gone a few months. When I came home and asked her, she admitted it. That was when I realized my dad wasn’t who I thought he was. I never got over that.”

“We don’t get to choose our parents.”

Otis stopped at his favorite oak and sniffed. He’d be here a minute. “But we can choose to separate ourselves.”

“If we want to. I don’t. I don’t agree with what my dad does, but he has always supported me. I can’t turn on him for that.”

“Stalemate.”

Frankie pulled a twig from a low hanging branch and snapped it. “No compromise?”

“Sure. We don’t go to dinner with your parents every other Saturday.”

“Luce—”

“Why does it have to be set in stone? Why can’t we pop over on a Friday? What if we want to do something else on Saturday?”

Frankie shrugged. “Then we do something else. No big deal.”

Otis zeroed in on his spot and assumed the position for one of his colossal poops. “It
is
a big deal. If we don’t go your mother will flip.”

“Probably, but I’ll deal with it.”

“I want to move back to the city.
You
like having a three-flat in Franklin so you can walk to Petey’s, get a meatball sandwich and shoot the bull with your dad’s friends.”

“I can drive in from downtown.”

Ugh.
He didn’t get it. Didn’t understand how the pull of “the life” came between them, defined them. She wanted to separate herself from it and he wanted to hang on.

Otis finished pooping, and Lucie cleaned up the mess and dropped the package into the larger grocery bag she carried.

Frankie grabbed her arm to get her attention. “I’m willing to make changes, but we both need to. Otherwise, one of us will get everything and one of us will get nothing.”

The flatness in his brown eyes split her in two and made her realize the hurt she’d put him through. It would be easy to give in. If only to make him happy, but this issue was too big and menacing. “I can’t come up with a compromise, but if you can, I’d be ecstatic.”

They wandered a few feet and Otis stopped at his second favorite tree. Frankie shifted toward her and stuck his hands in his jacket pockets. “We’ve had three years together, Luce.”

“Three great years.”

“Definitely.”

“I love you, Frankie. I want to wake up with you every morning, have babies with you and watch you teach them how to play ball.”

He grinned. “I’d be good at making babies.”

She rolled her eyes. A flock of squawking geese flew overhead and Otis lunged forward, yanking the leash and throwing Lucie off balance. Frankie grabbed her, and she hung on to his jacket for balance.

She gave the leash a correcting tug. “Relax, Otis.” Frankie laughed and she made the mistake of looking into his eyes.

At that moment they were them again; two lovers enjoying a laugh over an inconsequential thing. The moment drifted between them, suspending them in the muck between love and hurt. He leaned down and brushed a kiss over her lips. She let it happen. Let the loneliness of these last weeks and the loss of his body next to hers melt away. What could be the harm in that?

She finally pulled back and he nipped her bottom lip. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He kissed the top of her head and she snuggled into him, settled her cheek against his jacket and inhaled the clean, airy scent that came with him. Hopefully, this would always be her place. Hopefully.

* * *

After a lightning quick lunch, they headed to the Bernards’ and Lucie pushed through the lobby doors with the dogs. “We have to make a quick stop at Sammy Spaniel.”

“Say what?”

“The dog boutique around the corner. The girls are out of chews and Mrs. Bernard left a note asking if I could get them.”

Frankie considered himself a reasonable guy, but running errands was taking advantage of Lucie’s good nature. Lucie, probably still guilt-ridden over the dogjacking, didn’t want to say no. “You’re the boss.”

She grinned up at him. “I like the sound of that.”

“Depending on how far you wanted to take it, I could think of a few areas we can put you in charge. One would involve you on top of me with a whip.”

Lucie clamped her mouth shut.

“Just saying.”

They swung a right at the corner and dodged the lunch hour rush with the dogs sniffing their way toward Sammy Spaniel. Lucie marched into the store with the girls leading the charge.

“Let’s all go in,” Frankie said.

The place looked like Cinderella’s castle for dogs. Coats and costumes—costumes?—shared one wall, while collars and leashes hung on the adjacent wall. And didn’t all this dog crap get his mind buzzing? Lucie needed to get her accessory line in here.

The back wall contained dog treats, and bags and bags of food. Frankie eyeballed the freezer and a big sign that said Raw Bar. He didn’t want to know.

The saleslady, a fortyish woman, wore tight jeans, high-heeled red boots and a low cut V-neck sweater that screamed va-va-va-voom.

She glanced over at him and smiled. This woman was nice looking, but if she backed off on the makeup and stopped dressing like a twenty-year-old, she’d be a stunner. After giving him the onceover, she returned to her customer.

“I’m not sure what my supplier has,” she said. “But I’ll call this afternoon. We’ll get your baby squared away.”

Must be the owner. Even better.

A circular bakery case, smack in the middle of the room, held dog pastries and intricately decorated cookies that caught Frankie’s eye. Seriously? People spent money on this stuff? For dogs?

Lucie headed for the wall with the dog chews while he perused the collars. Frankie picked up a pink one with hearts on it. Twenty-four ninety-five. A little pricey for your basic collar. He moved down the line and grabbed the black one with silver swirls. Thirty-five bucks. He set it back and, hanging on to the theory that these babies got pricier the farther down the line he went, he snatched a leather one with metal studs off the hook. Fifty-nine dollars.
Now we’re talking.

“I found the treats.” Lucie came up behind him.

“Check out these collars. You need to get hooked up with this place.”

She glanced at the rows of collars and leashes and bit her bottom lip. “I left the owner my number last week. I’ll follow up with her in another week or so. I don’t want to do anything until we settle the
issue.
If you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I get it, but they have a built-in customer base here. All you need to do is show the owner your stuff.”

“Excuse me.” The other customer in the store squeezed by.

“Sure,” Frankie stepped aside, spotted the owner coming their way and leaned closer to Luce. “Roll with me, here.”

“What are you doing?”

“How are we all today?” The woman’s cherry red lips eased into a smile. She looked first to Lucie then stared at Frankie. He glanced down at her left hand and didn’t see a ring.
Cougar
.

This would get him in trouble with Lucie, but he offered up one of his surefire crooked grins. “I could be better.” He reached to pat the dogs. “The girls have their bling on and I’m feeling underdressed.”

“Bling?” The woman squatted, giving him a nice view of her fleshy cleavage.
Yow
. He glanced at Lucie and she did the spare-me eye roll.

“Oh, aren’t these fabulous,” the cougar said when she spotted the collars. “Where did you get these? They’re just fabulous.”

Second fabulous within seconds. He shot Lucie a look, but she stood there as if facing down a ravenous tiger. Well, maybe in the cougar’s case, she was, but that was beside the point. He gritted his teeth and went back to the queen of all things fabulous.

“Coco Barknell.”

The woman’s eyes went wide. “Oh, I love it.”

“Yep,” he said. “Lucie here is the owner. She makes everything. Collars, coats, leashes. All one of a kind.”

The cougar stood and faced Lucie. “Did you leave me your number last week?”

Luce slid her gaze to Frankie, then back to the other woman before holding her hand out. “Yes. I’m Lucia Rizzo. The company is new. I’ve been doing private trunk shows.”

Finally
. After a pat for the girls, Frankie stood to join the cougar and Lucie, who had pulled the leash closer to keep the dogs from chewing on a rack of toys. They flopped onto the floor with a whimper.

“I’m Jeanette Owens. I own the store.” She turned to Frankie, held out her hand and nearly purred at him. “And you are?”

“Frank Falcone.” To his credit, he tried to make the handshake quick, but Jeanette gave his fingers a squeeze. He slid his hand away and took a step closer to Lucie before he got sucked into cougar quicksand. “Luce, honey—” the honey couldn’t hurt, “—why don’t you bring some samples by to show Jeanette. Your products would fit right in.”

Jeanette turned her attention to Luce. “Yes. I’d love to see what you have. I’m always looking for new items. Let me get you my card.”

She cruised her bombshell body over to the register, leaned over the counter and gave Frankie an unimpeded view of her rear.
Ho-kay.
Not looking.
Not
looking.

The sound of Luce rummaging through her messenger bag drew his attention and she pulled a stack of business cards.

“Are you here tomorrow?” Luce asked. “I could stop in with a few things. Maybe around this same time?”

Jeanette moved back to them, her eyes square on Frankie. He bent to pet the dogs. Mr. Innocent. That was Frankie.

“That would be fine.” Jeanette handed Lucie a card. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Out on the crowded sidewalk, Lucie couldn’t contain her frustration a second longer. What was he doing pushing the accessory line when they had this tiny problem of a stolen diamond holding them captive? She cracked Frankie across the arm.

“Ow.”

“You did it again. Completely ignored what I asked you to do.” A few pedestrians sent her horrified glances, but she was beyond that. “Are you out of your mind?”

“At times, yes.”

“
What
?”

“You asked a question, I answered.”

Typical deflection tactic. She leaned in. “Are you forgetting about the dognappings? The hijacked accessories?”

He waved her off. “Doesn’t matter. Your father put the word out to leave you alone. And
my
father told me he’s on it. From now on, you’re good.”

Wonderful. That made her feel so much better.

“And another thing,” Lucie said. “That woman was looking at you like her next meal.”

An iron stab of jealousy flooded Lucie and she despised it. After all this time, she’d thought she’d accepted women being attracted to Frankie. Obviously not. Frankie might have been putting on a show, but Lucie felt like the extra in that little extravaganza. A sick feeling rumbled in her stomach.

“I
got
you in there,” he said.

One of the girls stopped to sniff a fire hydrant. “By pimping yourself.”

“Please. With all this drama, I should call you Roseanne. You know I was playing her.”

“Yeah, but she didn’t know that. She thinks you want to have sex with her.”

“My goodness,” an elderly woman hissed as she went by.

Frankie stopped walking. “You’re pissed because I flirted with her? You had to know what I was doing.”

The steam inside Lucie scalded her. No. He would not make this her fault. “I’m not pissed that you were flirting. I’m pissed because she’s attractive.”

There. She said it.

He burst out laughing, but it was an incensed, you’re-next-on-line-for-the-psych ward laugh. “And that’s
my
fault?”

“She was
sexy
and you went for that. A little voice in my head kept whispering at me that maybe if I weren’t there, something
would
happen. We
are
broken up.”

The crowd on the street suddenly gave them a wide berth. A tall man with dark hair and shoulders the size of a Buick walked by with a knowing, entertained grin.

Frankie, his face resembling granite, dragged her and the dogs down the side street so they could keep the conversation semi-private.

He held her elbow and spun her to face him. “Are you serious? You think I’d do that to you?”

When he put it that way, it sounded bad. Really bad. She closed her eyes and tried to unbunch her shoulders.
Relax
. How to explain herself? “No. But everyone always silently questions why you’re with me.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“No, it’s not.”

A ball of self-doubt spewed open inside her, submerged her in ways she normally had enough self-confidence to ignore. But this time, it picked at her, bullied her, made her sick with wonder because she loved this man and didn’t want him with anyone else. Anyone more desirable. Combining that with losing the job she had worked so hard for, the job that made her someone other than Joe Rizzo’s daughter caused a vile sickness to swell in her throat.