The Lucky Dog Matchmaking Service (23 page)

Chapter 31

“You found Honey?” The door swung wide again, and Evan stepped out onto the welcome mat.

“I did.” Lara dangled her key fob in front of his face. “But before I unlock the car, you’ll have to start talking.”

He ducked his head. “Why bother? It sounds like you already know everything.”

“All I know is that I damn near ran over a giant bloodhound near Scottsdale and Sixty-fourth, and—”

“Oh my God.” His face went ashen. “She was running in the street?”

“—and when I coaxed her into my car, I checked her tag. Guess whose address and phone number were inscribed on it.”

At this, a note of pride crept into his voice. “I got her microchipped, too. You always say dogs should have identification on them at all times.”

“I do say that.” Lara leaned against the tan stucco wall, confused and sad and angry all at once. “But I thought you weren’t a dog person.”

Evan’s expression went from shocked to sheepish. “That’s what I thought, too. But I guess I just hadn’t met the right one.”

She took a moment to absorb this. “So you and . . .”

“Honey,” Evan supplied.

“You and Honey have been together for how long now?”

“A few weeks. She showed up in the backyard one morning, same as the pit bull puppies.” He kind of slurred this last sentence together, the conversational equivalent of speeding past a perilous patch of road. “I wanted to call you to take her, or drop her off at the shelter, or something, but she kept looking at me with those eyes, and then I brought her with me to a soccer game, and next thing you know, we were going for a run every morning and watching the Super Bowl together.”

Lara still couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You. Got a dog.”

“I had no choice.” He raked a hand through his hair. “She liked me. She wouldn’t leave.”

“And you like her, too.”

“Yes, okay? Fine. I admit it. I like my dog.”

“And if she ate a cake off your kitchen counter?” Lara pressed.

“I’d still like her.”

“What’s different about her?” Lara glanced back at her car, where the back window was spattered in Jackson Pollock–like dribbles of drool. “Is she perfectly behaved?”

“No, she’s just as bad as all the rest.” Evan chuckled, apparently amused by Honey’s criminal tendencies. “Worse, really, because of all the drooling. It’s unreal. We’re talking rivers of drool.”

“I can see that.”

He ran his hand through his thick brown hair. “Plus, I’m pretty sure she has a death wish. The third day she was here, she ate a bunch of the neighbor kid’s crayons, which gave her kidney stones, and I had to drop twenty-six hundred dollars at the vet’s.”

“And you’re fine with all that?”

Evan shrugged. “I can’t explain it. She’s just special. After you left, this whole place was too quiet and empty. I missed you, and it was nice to have someone to come home to after work. I guess”—now he looked
really
embarrassed—“you know how you’re always saying every dog is a lifeline?”

Lara nodded.

“Well, she’s mine.”

A few weeks ago, Lara would have felt vindicated at this admission, but now she just felt deflated.

“So you broke up with me and replaced me with a dog,” she said. “Harsh, but fitting.”

“Lara, I could never replace you. Never. While you were out looking for a new house and becoming the Dog Doyenne, I was sitting around on the couch in my old track shorts, eating bad takeout and thinking about what a jackass I’d been. In fact, the night I saw you by Petco, I was trying to—”

“Petco?” Lara pushed off the wall and put her hands on her hips. “You told me you were coming out of Home Depot!”

“What else could I say? When you first saw me, I was carrying a bag full of treats and toys and a stuffed squirrel exactly like the one I, uh, had issues with previously. I had to hide it in my car before I could talk to you.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear. “So what were you trying to say that night? It seemed like you had a lot of unfinished questions.”

He reached out to touch her cheek. “I wanted to ask: Can I see you again? Can we start over? I wanted to tell you I’m not seeing anyone else.” His thumb traced her jawline. “What about you?”

Lara took a breath, then confessed, “I went out on one date. But it didn’t work out.”

“Jerk didn’t like dogs?” Evan guessed.

“No, he liked dogs,” Lara said, sidling forward a bit.

He took another step toward her, frowning slightly. “Couldn’t bake you a cake?”

She threw him a devilish little grin. “Oh, he probably would have made me a cake eventually.”

He leaned forward, his voice deepening. “I’m positive he couldn’t love you as much as I do.”

“Mr. Squirrel and all?”

He tilted his face until his mouth almost brushed hers. “You’re perfect for me. Exactly the way you are.”

“Then yes. Yes to everything. Yes, you can see me again. Yes, we can start over.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a sweet, seductive, first-date kind of kiss. He responded with a hot, demanding, third-date kind of kiss, which left her no choice but to up the ante with a positively scorching fifth-date kiss. But then, before she got entirely carried away, she pulled back and said, “Not so fast. What about the white VW with the sparkly pink heart sticker?”

Thankfully, he was too busy trying to slide his hand under the hem of her shirt to ask how she knew about the white car. “The dog walker.” His face darkened. “
Ex
–dog walker. I should have known better than to trust some flighty undergrad. I told her a million times to pay attention on walks and hold the leash with both hands, but
noooo
. She decided to let Honey off-leash ‘just for two minutes’ to show her friends how Honey can play soccer. I’ve been searching for two days, calling vets, posting flyers.”

“Honey can play soccer?”

“She’s the canine version of David Beckham. We’ll discuss it later.” He drew her inside the house and kicked the door shut behind them. They stumbled across the living room, kissing and kissing until they fell back onto the sofa cushions, eliciting a loud squeak from a dog toy buried underneath.

* * *

“Admit it,” Lara said, swinging one bare foot lazily in the air as she sprawled across Evan’s bare chest. “I’ve dragged you down to my level.”

He ran his index finger along the curve of her back. “You have. I’m officially a member of the Cult of Dog. Pass the Kool-Aid.”

She tucked her head under his chin. “So what are we going to do now?”

“I vote for more of what we just did. As long as we’re both down at your level, we might as well wallow.”

“You silver-tongued devil.” She gave him a playful pinch, then got serious. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can do anything you want to me.”

She shifted her weight on the sofa, setting off a fresh set of squeaks. “What does this mean?” She nibbled her lower lip. “For us. Does it mean anything?”

He took so long to reply that she finally lifted her head to see what he was doing. As soon as she made eye contact, he said, “It means so much that it’s all I can do not to start asking dangerous questions.”

She unleashed another fifth-date kiss. “What kind of questions?”

He cupped her cheek in his palm and shot her a warning look. “You know exactly what question.”

“So ask,” she dared.

When he hesitated, she took matters into her own hands. “Okay, well, if you won’t ask, I will. Evan, will you—”

He pressed his hand over her mouth. “Hey! Stop. I’m the guy. I get to ask.”

“Don’t be sexist. We’ll do it together,” Lara suggested. “Okay?”

“Okay. On the count of three.”

“One, two, three,” they chanted, their voices jumbling together. “Will you marry me?”

“Jinx,” she said. “You owe me a Coke.”

“How about I give you a ring instead?” He got up, went back to the bedroom, and returned with the diamond ring, which was still encased in the plastic sandwich bag.

“I love it.” She couldn’t have been more thrilled if it had been presented in a little blue box with a bow. “But can we dip it in boiling water before I put it on?”

After they both threw on their clothes, Lara padded into the kitchen to fill a pot at the faucet and turn the stove burner on while Evan brought in Honey.

The jowly brown hound bounced between Lara and Evan, sniffing and wagging and drooling for joy.

Then she looked right at Lara and did a clumsy sideways stagger, almost like a four-footed canine jazz square.

“Did you see that? She’s dancing.”

“I told you, she’s got moves.” Evan used a pair of metal tongs to retrieve the ring from the plastic bag. “You should see her on the soccer field.”

Honey opened her mouth in a dopey doggie grin and did it again. She tripped over her huge paws and careened face-first into her water dish, then lurched back onto her belly, whereupon she crossed her front paws daintily and waited for applause.

Lara looked into Honey’s droopy eyes and fell deeply in love. It wasn’t rational and it wasn’t what she expected, but it was undeniable.

At long last, she’d met her new soul mate. And as luck would have it, her new soul mate just happened to be a package deal with the love of her life.

Chapter 32

“So you’re getting married.” Justine nodded in resignation when Lara broke the news over dinner at the house in Mayfair Estates. “I always knew you would.”

Lara was through apologizing for her choices. “That’s right. I’m getting married, I’m blissfully happy, and guess what? I don’t care if you approve.”

“Good. You’re a grown woman. You don’t need anyone’s permission.” Her mother paused just long enough to torture Lara. “I do approve, though.”

“You do?”

“Why does that shock you?”

“What about all those warnings about the pitfalls of letting your guard down and trusting a man?”

“
I
am the one who will never fully trust a man again.
I
am the one who can’t let her guard down. You are not me. You have your own path.” Justine reached for her BlackBerry and snapped into business mode. “My calendar is filling up for the next twelve months, so we’d better nail down a date immediately. Are you thinking about a spring wedding, or summer?”

Lara waved one hand dismissively. “We’re just going down to city hall. Nothing fancy. But don’t worry, we’ll find a time when you can come.”

Justine went very still. “Excuse me?”

Lara knew she was in trouble, but she couldn’t figure out why. “What? You
don’t
want me to find a time when you can come?”

“You are not going to city hall, so rid yourself of that ridiculous notion right now.” Justine brandished her butter knife like a shiv. “I will disown you if you go to city hall.”

“I thought you just said I had to make my own path.”

“You can find your path
after
I throw the wedding of the year.” Justine gulped her white wine. “City hall? Bite your tongue, you ungrateful child. Let me spell this out for you so there’s no misunderstanding: We are throwing a wedding. A big, extravagant, black-tie affair with crystal and caviar and a twelve-piece band. You are going to wear a couture gown and you’re going to like it.”

Lara groaned. “Mo-om, no.”

“Yes.” Her mother’s tone left no room for debate.

Lara tried to debate anyway. “Formal affairs make me sweat. And I’m pretty sure white lace gives me hives.”

“You’re the bride. All you have to do is glide around looking pretty.”

“Evan’s not into all this stuff, either.”

“Evan?” Justine craned forward as if she couldn’t possibly have heard this correctly. “He’s just the groom. He doesn’t get a vote.”

“And all that expense for one day? It’s such a waste.”

“It’s not your money, so don’t you worry your pretty little head about that.”

“There’s no point in arguing with you, is there?”

Justine scooped Mullet up from the floor and started feeding her scraps of salmon from her plate. “None whatsoever.”

“Well, if I’m going to have a fancy, formal wedding full of people I barely know—”

“You are.”

“—then all the guests will get to bring a date, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then you have to bring one, too.”

Justine didn’t miss a beat. “I have a plus-one.” She scratched the top of Mullet’s head.

“No, you have to bring a human date. Did you go out with Ivory’s owner yet? What was his name?”

“Jay. And you know very well that I don’t date.”

“So you shot him down in cold blood?”

Justine hemmed and hawed and rolled her eyes before admitting, “We met for dinner at the country club on Saturday, but I made it abundantly clear that it wasn’t a date.”

“Whatever. How’d it go?”

Justine lifted one shoulder. “I didn’t have the urge to disembowel myself with a steak knife.”

“All right! We’ll call that progress.”

“Don’t make more of this than it is. Jay and I enjoyed a lovely tasting menu along with reasonably entertaining conversation. The end. I know you refuse to believe it, but that’s all I’m interested in at this point in my life.”

“I do refuse to believe it.”

“That’s because you’re an incurable matchmaker. But the truth is, not everyone has to be paired off to be happy. I like my life the way it is. After so many years by myself, I’d be completely unsuitable for cohabitation with a man. The snoring, the blobs of shaving cream in the sink, the obsession with golfing and sports cars . . .” Justine grimaced. “No, thank you.”

Lara laughed. “So you and Miss Mew-lay are going to live happily ever after?”

Justine nuzzled the contrary little mutt, who went limp and played dead. “She may hog the covers, but she never contradicts me or whines about my work schedule.”

Then Lara heard it: the distinctive
bing
from the laptop open on the counter.

“Hey, what was that?” she asked.

Justine toyed with her gold watch. “I believe that was my computer letting me know that it’s my turn in Scrabble.”

Lara’s jaw dropped. “You’re playing Scrabble with someone else?”

Justine’s cheeks flushed. “Yes.”

“But I’m your online Scrabble buddy!”

“Calm down. You’re still my Scrabble partner. But you’re busy, and you’re only going to get busier as we start planning your big day and moving forward with the nonprofit. I’m allowed to have more than one game in progress.”

“Who’s your opponent?” Lara demanded.

“I’m not sure that’s any of your business.”

But living with Justine had taught Lara a few things about playing hardball during negotiations. “Spill your guts or I elope to Vegas.”

Justine gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me. I’ve got a three-day weekend coming up and a hankering to say my vows to Elvis.”

After a two-second standoff, Justine caved. “Jay,” she choked out in a dramatic whisper.

“First the tasting menu, now Scrabble.” Lara rubbed her palms together. “The plot thickens.”

“We play Othello, too.” She sounded so mortified that Lara had to tease her just a little.

“Maybe
you
should be the one picking out a wedding dress.”

“When hell freezes over. Now, let’s get down to business.” Justine, still cradling Mullet, stood up and crossed to her laptop, where she started pulling up wedding Web sites. “Tomorrow morning I’ll call the bridal salon at Neiman Marcus and make an appointment. Do you prefer a mermaid silhouette or A-line? Silk satin or silk charmeuse?”

Lara tuned out the second she heard the words
bridal salon
. She gave her mother a blank look. “Whatever you think. You have great taste.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re going to be agreeable about this.” Justine clapped her hands together. “I’ll start interviewing event planners, and we’ll need to come up with a head count estimate as soon as possible so we can book a location. I’m thinking the Four Seasons or the Biltmore.”

“Should I invite Dad?” Lara asked. “He’s still not speaking to me or acknowledging my existence in any way.”

“Yes,” Justine said firmly. “He’s your father; you have to invite him. It’s up to him whether he attends or not.”

“He won’t come,” Lara predicted. “He’s teaching me a lesson.”

“And I’d say you’re better off for having learned it, wouldn’t you?”

Lara picked at her cuticle, then dropped her hand when she noticed Justine’s frown. “I guess we’ll just skip the traditional father-daughter dance.”

Justine came back across the room and covered Lara’s broken, unvarnished nails with her own flawless manicure. “Oh, sweetheart. I’ll dance with you.”

“A mother-daughter dance?” Lara looked up, surprised. “I don’t think that’s Emily Post–approved. What will people think?”

“I don’t give a damn what people think.”

“But appearances matter, you know. I have it on high authority.”

“My daughter matters more. I’m the hostess, and I’ll dance if I want to.”

“What will our song be?” Lara tried to come up with an appropriate theme song for her mother. “‘Independent Women’ by Destiny’s Child? ‘I’m Every Woman’ by Chaka Khan?”

“It’s a
wedding
, Lara. The song should be meaningful. It needs to say something about who you are and what having you in my life has meant to me.”

“If you say ‘Butterfly Kisses,’ I swear to you I’m going to the justice of the peace at nine a.m. tomorrow morning.”

“I was thinking something a little more upbeat. Something to get everyone out on the dance floor.” Justine paused, a mischievous glint in her eye. “‘Who Let the Dogs Out?’”