The Lucky Dog Matchmaking Service (19 page)

“Can I . . .” He raked his hands through his hair. “Can we . . .”

She looked him straight in the eye. “Before you finish that sentence, think about the ‘honey’ you already replaced me with.”

He froze, speechless and stricken. When he recovered his composure, he stammered, “I’m not . . .”

“Can’t finish that one, either?” She gave him one more moment before walking away. “Good-bye, Evan.”

She ransacked the purse’s pockets until she found the business card she’d tucked away a few days ago. When she arrived at the park, she tamped down all her rage and regret and dialed her phone with shaking fingers.

“Hi, Tim, it’s Lara. Listen, I’ve been thinking about your invitation, and I’d love to have dinner with you. How’s Saturday night?”

Chapter 24

“I have a date on Saturday,” Lara informed her mother as they drove to the grocery store for Justine’s second official public outing. “With a guy I met at a dog show last weekend.”

She could tell from her mother’s shallow breathing and tightly curled fingers that Justine was on the verge of a panic attack, and she hoped that opening up her love life for criticism would help distract her.

The ploy worked like a charm. As soon as Lara uttered the word
date
, Justine relaxed and shifted her focus.

“Oh, Lara, no. Now that you’re finally having some success with your training business, you’re going to derail yourself again with ‘love’ and ‘romance’?” Justine used one hand to make air quotes. “Did you learn nothing from your last relationship?”

“Please note that I didn’t say I was having a
relationship
on Saturday.” She wanted to keep her mother talking as they turned into the grocery store parking lot. “I’m not
moving in
with the guy I met at the dog show. I just have a date. A revenge date, actually.”

“What’s a revenge date?”

“It’s a prearranged social meeting with a hot guy to prove to your ex that you are able to upgrade and enjoy life to the fullest and are therefore winning while he is losing.”

“I see. Well, that certainly does sound promising.”

“Doesn’t it?” Lara unbuckled her seat belt. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Justine didn’t move. “I’m not ready for this.”

“Sure you are. We’re just running in for salad. It’s not like we’re going spend an hour restocking your pantry. We’ll be in and out in five minutes.”

“Tell you what—I’ll give you my order, and you can go in and make my salad for me.” Justine nodded toward the designer handbag tucked in the backseat. “Take my wallet. Whatever you need.”

“Nice try.” Instead of reaching for Justine’s bag, Lara plucked the keys out of the ignition and pocketed them. “But bribery’s not going to get you out of this. You made me go house hunting with you, so now you’re going salad shopping with me.”

“When did you get so pushy?” Justine checked her lipstick in the rearview mirror for the twentieth time, put on her sunglasses, wrapped an Italian silk scarf around her head, and opened the car door. “Be honest. How do I look?”

“Like a very glamorous international spy in desperate need of arugula and sliced radishes.”

Justine huddled behind Lara as they stepped into the clean, organic, fair-trade-certified, and exorbitantly expensive supermarket. They had timed the trip for midafternoon to avoid the lunch rush and the pre-dinner crowd. The produce aisles were practically deserted, except for a few young moms pushing toddlers in carts. Once Justine had ascertained that she was in no danger of being recognized, she took off her glasses and started unwinding her headscarf.

“Ooh.” Lara stopped to admire a display of exotic fruits. “Mangoes.”

Justine nudged her toward the salad bar at the far wall. “Move along. We’re not here to browse.”

Lara laughed. “This right here? This is how I got pushy.”

They collected their little plastic bowls and started spooning up lettuce, olives, and feta cheese. Justine used a pair of plastic tongs to inspect a slice of carrot, then wrinkled her nose and placed the wilted garnish back in its bin.

And that was when Lara noticed the man staring at her mother.

“Psst.” She sidled up to her mother.

Justine shooed her away. “Don’t crowd me, Lara. You’ll get your turn with the tofu soon enough.”

Lara kept right on nudging. “That guy over there is checking you out.”

“What?”

“Hot prospect, nine o’clock.”

Justine’s head shot up. “Where?”

“Don’t look!” Lara hissed. When Justine returned her attention to the produce, Lara murmured, “The guy over by the deli counter. With the leather jacket and the chiseled jawline.”

“That guy?” Justine’s sharp eyes swept over the man in a critical, two-second assessment. “He’s not tall enough for me.”

“He’s got to be six feet.”

“I prefer six-two or above.”

“You know, I used to wonder if anything would ever be good enough for you, ever. And now I have my answer:
No
.” Lara sucked in her breath as the guy made his way toward them. “He’s moving in. I’ll head over to the dairy aisle and let you two have a moment alone.”

Justine gasped. “Don’t you dare desert me. We had a deal!”

“Too late.” Lara darted off toward the Greek yogurt, flashing the guy an encouraging smile as she went.

Two minutes later, she heard the unmistakable
click-clack
of Justine’s high heels, and her mother rounded the corner holding a black-edged business card.

Lara clapped her hands together. “Well?”

Justine put her sunglasses back on. “His name is Dale, and he’s a lawyer who just bought a house in the neighborhood.”

“And he asked you out!” Her jubilation faded as she took in her mother’s expression. “Uh-oh. He didn’t ask you out?”

Justine whipped out her scarf and strode toward the exit. “He’s a personal injury attorney, Lara. And no, he didn’t ask me out. He wanted to know what happened to my face and if there’s someone we could sue.”

* * *

“Calm down, Mom. Let’s not overreact here.” Lara chased after Justine, through the garage and into the house. On the way to the kitchen, she opened the door to her bedroom and let the dogs out.

“I’m not overreacting.” Instead of stowing her handbag carefully in a closet, Justine tossed it onto the counter. “I’m merely making a call.”

“Who are you calling?” Lara asked, her eyes wide.

“The investment group in LA. I’m selling the salons.”

“Mom!”

“No, Lara, I’m done. When people are pulling you aside in the grocery store to ask who they can sue about your face, it’s time to get out of the beauty business.”

“This is insane. You can’t sell the salons.”

“Watch me.”

Lara opened the fridge, grabbed a bottle of white wine, and poured two glasses. “But the salon is your life’s work. It’s your baby.”

“
Was
my baby.” Justine plucked a tissue out of the box and started wiping off lipstick. She accepted the wine Lara offered and drank deeply. “The management team is doing just fine without me. They don’t need me anymore.”

“You don’t have to decide this right away. Think it over. Twenty-four hours.”

Justine shot her a glare over the rim of her wineglass. “I don’t recall asking your opinion.”

Lara gave Linus a warning look as the big red dog placed one paw on the foyer floor. Chastened, he ducked his head and U-turned back into the kitchen. “I swear to you, Mom, your face really isn’t—”

“Save it, Lara. I know exactly how I look.”

Lara couldn’t think of anything more to say, so she reached over and covered her mother’s hand with her own.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I shouldn’t have made you go to the store.”

“Please.” Justine tossed her head. The glossy black strands of her wig gleamed under the kitchen lights. “You can’t
make
me do anything.”

“Yeah, but I got all pushy and told you to talk to Dale—”

Justine finally snapped. “This isn’t about a man. Don’t you see that?” She slammed her glass goblet down so hard, the base cracked. “Who cares about some random jackass at the supermarket? This is about
me
.” She pivoted and strode off toward her bedroom.

Lara called after her, “If you feel like talking later—”

“I won’t.”

“Okay, well, it’s your turn in Scrabble.”

Justine didn’t reply. She didn’t slam her bedroom door, either, but she closed it with such a firm, definitive click that Lara knew better than to go knocking.

Not ten seconds later, Lara heard an outraged scream from the master suite: “Why is this animal always on my bed?”

A quick head count of the dogs confirmed what she already knew: Mullet had slipped away and made herself comfortable in the other alpha bitch’s bed.

Lara waited, listening for the sound of the door opening and Mullet being forcibly evicted, but there was nothing.

She cleaned up the wineglass and took care of the household chores: wiping down the counters, bringing in the garbage and recycling containers from the curb, heating up the last batch of Shelly’s frozen soup for dinner.

At six thirty, there was a bark at the front door. Ivory had arrived to join everyone for a walk.

After a tiring three-mile trek up and down the narrow, hilly streets, Lara settled back on the sofa and maintained a vigil, waiting for any sign from Justine.

Finally, at ten o’clock, her phone buzzed.

Justine had made her move:
TUNIC
for a whopping forty-four points.

Sighing with relief, Lara studied her letter tiles and strategized her next word, knowing even as she did so that it was futile. Her mother was going to clobber her. Without a moment’s hesitation or a single shred of mercy.

All was right with the world.

* * *

“I’m in love,” Kerry gushed.

Lara put her cell phone on speaker and double-checked her directions to the restaurant. She was en route to her dinner date with Tim, and she’d answered Kerry’s call expecting tears, sleep deprivation, despair . . . pretty much anything except Kerry’s actual announcement.

“You are?”

“Totally, blissfully, head over heels in love.”

“Well, good for you.” It was so good to hear Kerry’s usual moxie back in her voice. “What happened? Did Richard come back early from his trip and whisk you away for a romantic weekend?”

“Oh, him?” Kerry asked, as if she could barely pick this Richard fellow out of a lineup. “No. He won’t be back till next week, but that doesn’t matter. I have everything I need right here.”

Lara turned right at a stoplight. “What’s going on? Do I have to remind you to stay away from the craigslist personal ads?”

Kerry laughed. “I’m in love with Cynthia. She’s perfect. Not to mention unlawfully cute. My sweet little girl is delectable.”

“Wow.” Lara whistled, impressed. “So those acid reflux meds finally kicked in, huh?”

“Yep. I think my hormones leveled out, too. I don’t know what happened, and I don’t care.” Kerry sounded strung out on either endorphins or illegal substances. “I feel like . . . Remember your first love in high school, how the feelings totally consumed you? You wanted to stay up all night talking and watch the sunrise and the euphoria was seriously like a drug?”

Lara tried to think past her recent romantic disaster in the Home Depot parking lot. “Vaguely.”

“Well, that’s what this is like. I am
in love
with this baby.”

“I’m so happy to hear you say that.”

“Don’t get me wrong—I’m still tired and the house is a war zone and I may never wear a shirt without spit-up stains again, but somehow none of that matters anymore.” Kerry made a little noise that was half coo, half sigh. “I could watch her sleep for hours. Her little nose, her little fingers, and her cheeks, my God, her cheeks . . .”

Lara almost said,
That’s just how I feel when I get a new puppy
, but censored herself just in time. “Sounds like somebody’s bonding.”

“Like Super Glue.” Kerry stopped crooning and got down to business. “Listen, all that complaining I did, all the crying jags and crazy talk about moving to Mexico?”

“Yes?”

“None of that ever happened, okay? Erase the past few weeks from your mind.”

“Consider it erased.” Braking for a red light, Lara adjusted the rearview mirror and dabbed on an extra layer of lip gloss. She had let Justine style her—hair, makeup, and wardrobe—and she barely recognized her own glamorous reflection.

“Great. And by the way, you should totally go out and get knocked up. Motherhood is the best thing ever.”

“Now you’re scaring me. Are you going to show up on my doorstep, trying to convert me with informational literature from your Mommy and Me group?”

“Resistance is futile.” Kerry let out an evil little cackle.

“I’m going to have to call you back—I’m pulling up to the restaurant.”

“Wait—what restaurant?”

Lara grabbed her tin of breath mints out of the glove compartment. “That would be the restaurant where I’m meeting my date tonight.”

“Lara Madigan! You’ve been holding out on me!”

“How could my paltry first date possibly compete with you finding the true love of your life?” Lara provided a two-minute summary of meeting Tim as she maneuvered the station wagon past the valet stand and into one of the plebeian parking spots.

“Well, this guy sounds perfect.”

Lara made a face. “They always seem perfect in the beginning.”

“Okay there, Justine.”

“Ouch.”

“I’m just saying, keep an open mind.”

“I’ll try,” Lara promised as she turned off the car.

“And have fun.”

“I’m planning to.”

Kerry paused. “And don’t forget to ask him if he wants kids.”

“I have to go.”

“I’m telling you, I could just sit here smelling her head for hours.”

“Look into baby rehab, you junkie.”

Lara was still grinning when she walked into the restaurant.

And there he was, waiting for her, impeccably dressed and right on time: the perfect man.

Chapter 25

“This is lovely.” Lara settled back against the plush banquette and took a sip of her sparkling water. “I haven’t been out in forever.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to cringe. Nothing like opening a first date by talking about your lack of a social life.

Tim, exuding
GQ
debonair in a tailored shirt and tie, looked even more handsome by candlelight. “I find that hard to believe, with all the guys you must meet at shows and training classes.”

“You’d be surprised. Most of the men I work with only call me because their wives or girlfriends make them.” Lara smoothed her hair, which had been relentlessly conditioned, blown dry, and straightened. “As a rule, guys don’t seek out a female trainer.”

He shot her an arch smile. “They can’t handle an alpha female?”

Lara smiled back. “Something like that, I guess. So did you enjoy the dog show?”

“I’ve never seen anything like it. My sister has been breeding dogs for years, and I kept promising to come to a show. I’m glad I finally showed up.” He beckoned Lara in and confided, “I met a cute brunette by the Belgian Malinois.”

Lara tilted her head. “Good chemistry?”

“Great chemistry. Even her Bernese mountain dog couldn’t keep her paws off me.”

Lara pretended to be scandalized. “Shameless hussy.”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with being direct.” They paused as the server stopped by the table to recite the specials.

Tim gave the menu a cursory glance, then returned his focus to Lara. “What looks good?”

Lara felt her face suffuse with heat, but managed to maintain eye contact. “Everything.”

The server took this as his cue to depart for a few minutes.

This is great,
Lara told herself.
We’re having fun; we’re flirting; we have good chemistry. . . .

Sort of.

The fun and the flirting were definitely present and accounted for, but the chemistry was a bit more elusive. Which made no sense. This guy was attractive, confident, funny, smart—she
had
to be attracted to him. And she would be, she assured herself, once the initial first-date jitters wore off.

“So did you grow up with Jack Russells?” she asked.

“Nah. I’ve always had mutts. Up until last year, I had a husky mix named Uno.”

“As in the card game?”

“As in public enemy number one. He was a pain in the ass sometimes, and the shedding was unreal, but he was a great dog.”

“What happened to him?” Lara held her breath, praying that Tim wouldn’t reply, “I couldn’t deal with the fur and the squeaky toys so I dumped him at the pound.”

“He got cancer. I spent a ridiculous amount of money on chemo and medication, but in the end, the poor guy was in too much pain. I had to let him go. Sometimes I think about getting another pet, but Uno kind of spoiled me for your average dog.”

“I understand,” Lara said. “My first dog was a Chihuahua named Beacon, and I haven’t been able to find another dog that I click with the same way.”

“A Chihuahua? Interesting. I don’t see you as a Chihuahua kind of girl.”

“I’m not,” she admitted. “Usually, I gravitate toward big, lazy lugs like hounds, but Beacon was one of a kind.”

They traded dog stories for a few minutes, and then the conversation ventured into more personal territory.

Lara couldn’t help herself. She asked, “Have you ever gone out with someone who didn’t get along with your dog?”

Tim adjusted his shirt cuff, looking a bit embarrassed. “It hasn’t been an issue, since I haven’t really dated in a long time.”

Finding this sudden shyness adorable, Lara teased, “So you don’t normally troll the dog parks, picking up Berners and the brunettes who love them?”

He glanced back down at the menu. “I was married for five years. This is my first foray back into the social scene.”

Lara’s smile faded. “How long ago was the divorce?”

“No divorce.” He swallowed hard. “My wife died just over a year ago. A month before Uno, actually.”

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”

He nodded, accepting her condolences. “It still sounds strange to me, saying that. Valerie was sick for a long time, but somehow I never expected her to actually die.”

A note of strain and exhaustion crept into his voice. Lara didn’t push for details, but he seemed to feel compelled to provide them.

“Leukemia,” he said simply. “We found out a month before our wedding, but we were so sure she would beat it. And she did, for a long time. She hung on until the day after our fifth wedding anniversary.”

Lara hadn’t realized she’d raised her hand to cover her lips until she tried to talk. “That’s . . . I . . .”

He squared his shoulders and forced a smile. “Oh, man. I swore I wouldn’t do this—play the grieving widower card. My sister gave me strict instructions not to mention Val’s name during dinner tonight. I was offended that she thought she had to point that out. And yet here I am.”

“Don’t worry,” Lara said. “Your sister will never know. It’ll be our little secret.”

“That’s what they all say in the beginning.” He rubbed his face with his palms. “Then, next thing I know, you’re blackmailing me for my roadie services, dog grooming, nail clipping. . . . Where will it end?”

“Hey.” Lara sat back but nudged his foot with hers under the table. “Just think of this as a practice run.”

“But I don’t want to practice.” He nudged her back. “I spent the last year falling apart, and it’s time to start putting my life back together. I miss Valerie, of course, but it’s more abstract now. I’m trying to readjust to being single, but it’s tough to remember all the rules. Rules like ‘Don’t talk about your dead wife on first dates.’”

“You’re doing great,” Lara assured him.

He chuckled. “If I was doing great, you wouldn’t have to tell me ‘you’re doing great.’ You’d be too busy trying to suppress the urge to rip my clothes off.”

Lara made a big show of sitting on her hands, and they both laughed, but the romantic atmosphere had converted to one of camaraderie. So she relaxed, settled in, and shifted from date mode to friend mode.

“So you’re not enjoying the single life?” she asked after she’d flagged down the server and ordered an appetizer.

One side of his mouth tugged up. “I was never that great at dating, to be honest.”

“What are you talking about?” She practically slugged him on the bicep. “You’re, like, the perfect guy.”

He also seemed to sense that the nature of this dinner had changed and he adjusted accordingly, loosening his tie and ordering a beer. “Playing the field was never my thing. I liked being married. Everyone warned me that it was going to be boring, but it wasn’t. Val and I had a great time curled up on the couch on Friday nights, watching
The
Bourne Identity
for the eighteenth time.”

“You two were big Robert Ludlum fans?”

“I was a Robert Ludlum fan. I think she was more of a Matt Damon fan.” He grinned. “What about you? Have you ever been married?”

“Almost.” She stalled, taking another sip of water. “My last relationship was pretty serious, but it didn’t work out.”

“What was the problem?”

“Well, he wanted to get married.”

“What an asshole,” Tim deadpanned. “No wonder you broke up.”

“I wanted to get married, too. At first. And then we moved in together and everything fell apart in a matter of weeks.”

He leaned forward, intrigued. “But you still love him.”

Lara choked on her water. “What? I do not!”

“Yeah, you do. You should see your face when you talk about him. You look like Eskie with those big sad eyes.”

She had to stop hacking before she could reply. “Now you’re comparing me to a dog? That’s not very gentlemanly.”

“Just your eyes,” he corrected. “And so what if you’re still in love with your ex-boyfriend? It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Hey, I’m still in love with my dead wife. At least you still have a shot at getting back together with your guy.” Before the conversation got somber again, he pushed his plate aside and started talking strategy. “So I guess you’re going to have to be the one to propose next time, huh?”

“Oh, I don’t think there’s going to be a next time. We’re finished.”

“You don’t sound finished to me.”

Lara twisted the napkin in her lap. “At this point, it doesn’t really matter whether I’m finished or not—he’s finished enough for both of us.”

“I can’t believe that. You’re so pretty, so charming. . . .”

“I flushed the engagement ring down the toilet.”

His jaw dropped.

“He drove me to it.” She provided a quick rundown of Squirrelgate. “Still think I should propose to him?”

“I think you’re hot enough to pull it off, so yeah.”

She blushed. “You say that because you haven’t had to deal with me bringing home a bunch of sick strays or using our vacation fund for emergency canine surgery.”

“Wait. Did he hate the dogs, or did he hate the way the rescue stuff sucked up all your time and energy?”

Lara furrowed her brow. “I’m not sure. He said I never knew when enough was enough. He said I was never willing to draw a line.”

Tim rolled the beer glass between his palms. “Was he right?”

Lara took her time, finishing off her entire glass of water before admitting, “Kind of.” She had to laugh. “This is the worst first date in history.”

“Yeah, but we’re having a good time.” He looked wistful. “I miss this. Just the companionship, you know? I miss having someone there in bed with me at night. I miss having someone to eat cereal with in the morning.”

Lara nodded, thinking of Evan. And then she looked back at Tim, a strong man struggling to recover from a devastating loss. A man in need of a lifeline. “You know, Tim, you’re a great guy—”

“Oh no.” He groaned. “Don’t say that. ‘You’re a great guy’ means I’m not even going to get to kiss you good night.”

Lara gave him an exasperated look. “We just spent our candlelit dinner date deciding that I’m still hung up on my ex and you’re still grieving for your wife. Why do you even
want
to kiss me good night?”

“Because I’m a guy.”

She had to give him points for honesty. “Fine, you can kiss me good night.”

He held up his hand for a high five.

“On the cheek.”

He withdrew his high-five offer.

“But I can promise you that you’ll never have to worry about sleeping solo or eating your cereal alone again.” She smiled, thinking about Lucy Fur’s silky brown coat and lack of tolerance for girlfriends. “I may not be the right woman for you, but I’ve got the perfect dog.”