Good Guys Love Dogs (36 page)

He got out and came around to the
other side of the

car, took her hands and pulled her
out. He put his arms

around her waist and kissed her
forehead. “Just for you, he

said.

“Oh, Ian. She
hugged him, unable to think of any

words eloquent enough to express her
feelings.

But he understood. She saw it in his
eyes when she

looked up at him. “Did
I tel you I love you?

Ian glanced at his watch. “Not
in the past hour or so.

“I do, she said.
“I do.

He kissed her, the gesture assuring
her of his love more

than words could. A few moments
later, he said, “I wanted

to tell you about this sooner, but I
had to make sure I

could get the building permits and
that sort of thing first.

It's been a real chal enge making
sure those two didn't spil

the beans.

She sent a teary glance toward Luke
and Lena, stil

standing by the sign, thoughtful y
giving them a moment of

privacy.

“When you two get
finished with that, Luke called

out, “we've got a
building site to show you.

Colby looked up at her husband and
smiled.

“Teenagers. They
don't know a thing about patience, do

they?

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GOOD GUYS LOVE DOGS

Ian shook his head. “That
comes with age.

“And a lot of
other good things.

“And a lot of
other good things, he repeated, a not-so-

innocent look in his eyes.

With their arms around each other,
they made their way

toward the son and daughter waiting
to tel Colby al about

her very special wedding gift.

337

Thank you so very much for spending
some time with Good Guys

Love Dogs! If you enjoyed it, please
consider leaving a comment at

your favorite bookstore or on
Goodreads.com. It is so very helpful in

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Just use the links below:

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Wishing you a future of wonderful
reading!

Inglath

P.S. Here's a list of more stories
by me. !

Jane Austen Girl

Good Guys Love Dogs

Truths and Roses

A Gift of Grace

RITA Award Winner John Riley s Girl

A Woman With Secrets

Unfinished Business

A Woman Like Annie

The Lost Daughter of Pigeon Hollow

A Year and a Day

Novellas

Nashville: Part Two Hammer and a
Song

Nashville: Part One - Ready to
Reach!

On Angel s Wings

An Excerpt from Truths and Roses:

Prologue

New Orleans, Louisiana

he ball flew out of the
quarterback's hands,

Twhistling down the length of the
Superdome field

like a missile. A missile aimed at
Will Kincaid.

From his spot on the fifteen-yard
line, he narrowed his

gaze, willing the oncoming ball to
land in his waiting

hands. Nothing existed except this
moment. There were

no fans lunging to their feet, no
vendors hawking popcorn

and Cokes in the stands, no TV
cameras zooming in on

him. Just the knowledge that within
his reach hung the

brass ring.

The moment he'd waited for all his
life. The Super

Bowl. A single chance in which to
make his mark in

history. He could taste the victory,
feel its reassuring caress

through the sweat and grime that
covered his face. His. It

was his. Before his eyes flashed an
image of his father's

face—

340

GOOD GUYS LOVE DOGS

"
You'l make me proud out
there, son. Never given me reason to

be ashamed yet. I know you won't
start tonight.

Winning. Nothing else mattered.
Determination

roared up from deep inside him. He
launched himself at

the ball, reaching, reaching….

It landed solidly in his grasp, and
he catapulted

forward. A hand grabbed for his
shoulder, missed and

snatched again. He ran, flat out,
every self-doubt that had

ever plagued him pushing him down
that field. But just as

Wil 's feet crossed the line, the
safety tackled him, taking

him down, slamming him into the
unforgiving turf. His

right knee twisted and took the full
impact of his weight.

The resounding crack echoed in his
ears.

He lay there, not moving while
thousands of fans

roared their support, hero worship
for a young man who,

at twenty-nine, had reached the top
of the ladder he'd

chosen to climb. Nausea rose inside
him, swift enough to

draw a groan from his midsection.
Then the blackness

overtook him, and everything else
faded against the

backdrop of his father's unreadable
frown.

341

Chapter One

annah Jacobs had long been aware
that most of

Hthe people in Lake Perdue
considered her a

mystery. They thought it odd that a
young woman would

go months without showing her face
at a public function.

Odd that she seemed content to work
in a smal town

library week after week, month after
month, year after

year, when most of her peers had
moved away to make

their fortunes.

They didn't know that the old brick
building with its

slate roof and musty memories of the
flood of '64 suited

her. It no longer mattered that
she'd once entertained

other dreams. The library had become
her solace. Her

refuge. Books did not question or
judge. They made safe

companions.

As assistant librarian, Jenny Dudley
did not share

Hannah's passion, but she went about
her work with

singular efficiency and enthusiasm.
In the past few years,

she had become Hannah's closest
friend. But even with

342

GOOD GUYS LOVE DOGS

Jenny, she avoided talking about
anything personal,

preferring, instead, to discuss
topics associated with the

library—which
books had received favorable reviews in

Publishers Weekly, how many they
could order and stay

within budget.

Today, though, their conversation
did not run toward

anything so dry. Hannah would have
given a day's pay to

be arguing the merits of stocking
the shelves with extra

copies of Faulkner. Avoiding Jenny's
eyes, she reached for

the L encyclopedia and shoved the
volume into its proper

spot.

"It would do you good to get
out for a change,

Hannah, Jenny said. “A
parade would be just the thing.

You need to start living a little."
At forty-five, Jenny

followed her own advice, coming in
with a new hairstyle

every week. Keep a man guessing, she
said, convinced it

would eventual y help her find the
man she'd been

searching for in the twenty-odd
years since she'd lost her

husband.

"I don't have time today."

"Don't you ever get tired of
the same old routine?

You're here every day except Sunday.
And every night you

head straight for that old mausoleum
you call home.

You're the only person I know whose
spice cabinet is

alphabetized. Not to mention that
you've read ninety-five

percent of the books in this
library. Books and reality are

two different things, you know. What
you need, Hannah

Jacobs, is something to ruffle your
feathers a bit."

343

INGLATH COOPER

Hannah closed her eyes and rubbed a
hand across the

back of her neck. She'd heard it
before, how the romance

of spinsterhood had gone the route
of the wooden icebox.

"Jenny, don't start this
again—"

"A young woman like yourself
ought to be getting out

more."

"Jenny." The word was a
warning.

"And I can't understand why you
insist on playing

down your God-given good looks. It's
like you're trying to

hide them or something. Why on earth
don't you—"

"We've been through this
before, Jen. Please."

Jenny muttered something about the
fol y of a woman

hiding her light under a bushel,
then made a mock salute

of truce. "All right. But it's
not as if a local hero comes

home to roost every day of the
week." With a what's-this-

world-coming-to sigh of
exasperation, she urged the metal

book cart down the aisle and said,
"You real y aren't

going?"

"It's February," Hannah
said, hoping to divert Jenny's

mission. "How can you have a
parade in February?"

Jenny shrugged. "No one ever
complains about having

the Christmas parade in cold
weather. What's the

difference?"

A gust of wind caught a limb of the
pine tree outside

the front window, slapping it
against the pane. Hannah

flinched, then reached for another
book. "Parades are for

soldiers coming home, retired war
veterans, even Santa

Claus. Not football players,"
she added with a shake of her

head.

344

GOOD GUYS LOVE DOGS

"For goodness' sake, Hannah,
you act like Will

Kincaid's an ax murderer or
something. He won the Super

Bowl."

"And the rest of the town is
acting like he's the

messiah."

"Oh, that's hogwash. You know
he's just a local boy

made good. What's wrong with giving
him a little pat on

the back?"

"Certainly a contribution to
mankind." Hannah

aligned the row of encyclopedias in
soldier-like precision,

despite the fact that the two-thirty
school bus would drop

off a dozen or so hands to interpose
A with C and P with

Z.

"Come on. Sandy will be here
after school to work the

front desk. We could slip out for a
few minutes—"

"I have a dental appointment at
four." For all the

sorrow in her voice, she could have
been announcing her

imminent departure for Tahiti.

The corners of Jenny's mouth
puckered in a frown. "I

guess I'l go by myself, then."

Hannah didn't take the bait. "I'm
sure you'l have

plenty of company."

"Wel , then, you might just be
sorry," Jenny said,

attempting one last tack. "He's
awful y good-looking, if all

those magazine articles are anything
to judge from."

Smoothing the front of her dress,
Hannah grabbed the

remaining books from the cart,
sending her co-worker a

look that said it wouldn't have
mattered if he'd been

345

INGLATH COOPER

Adonis himself. "I need to run
a few errands before my

appointment. I'll see you in the
morning, Jenny."

Hannah slipped the last three
volumes into their

appropriate spots, then walked to
the front desk. She

opened the bottom drawer and pulled
out her purse,

humming as she went, an apparent
portrait of indifference.

346

Chapter Two

he yellow twenty-five-miles-an-hour
sign warned

Twould-be speeders of the hairpin
curve marking the

entrance into the Lake Perdue town
limits. Wil Kincaid took

note of it, then dismissed it much
the same as he'd once

dismissed his ninth-grade algebra
teacher. He knew today the

same reckless uncertainty for his
future he'd known then.

Downshifting, he sent the car
accelerating into the curve.

The new red Ferrari hugged the
pavement at wel over double

the sign's advised speed. The tires
squealed in protest before

the car hummed on, fourth gear, back
to fifth, leveling off

with a purr that was to the auto
enthusiast what

Rachmaninoff might have been to the
New York

Philharmonic patron.

Limits. Life these days revolved
around them.

Wil didn't have time for speed
limits today. He was late.

Late for this parade his father had
planned. He'd wanted

nothing more than a few weeks to
recover. A few weeks to

put body and soul back together
again. To forget about

347

INGLATH COOPER

footbal . And Grace. To convince
himself he'd done the right

thing in walking away from both of
them.

The Super Bowl. The high point of
his life. It had

shattered not only his knee, but al
sense of direction, as wel ,

leaving him with no idea of where to
go or what to do.

Not that he hadn't had his share of
wel -meaning friends

and relatives intent on showing him
the way.
Head for

Hol ywood. New York's the place
for you. Come home for a while, son.

Do not pass Go. Do not col ect
two hundred dol ars.

Despite the barrage of wel -intended
advice given him,

Wil had let Lake Perdue beckon and
win for the time being.

Wil 's father had wanted him to move
back home, an option

total y out of the question. He'd
rented a house in

Tarkington's Cove, instead. Close
enough to visit. Far enough

away to secure the space he needed.

Although, so far, physical distance
hadn't been a

deterrent for his father. John
Kincaid had stil managed to

talk Wil into sitting on some
ridiculous float and being pul ed