Книга - Blame It On The Dog

Blame It On The Dog
Amy Frazier


Enjoy the dreams, explore the emotions, experience the relationships.New puppy… After Selena Milano adopts sixty pounds of rambunctious dog, her disorganised household starts to fly apart at the seams. Her twelve-year-old son, Drew, worships the carpet Axel chews on, but their neighbours threaten to get them evicted if their four-legged menace isn’t brought under control. New family! Enter Jack Quinn, the animal behaviourist charged with bringing discipline to their bohemian existence. He trains their dog and he charms Drew. Then the headstrong single mother gets an out-of-character urge to invite the handsome Quinn into her home for dinner and maybe a little more.Could this be the end of her precious independence?







That embrace. Protective. Tender.

Too seductive in its tenderness. And now she felt herself drowning in his kiss. This wasn’t a get-the-girl-in-bed kiss. She’d handled those in the past. No, this kiss was a litmus test to prove if they fitted together. At a most elemental level. And, damn, did they fit.

So much so, it frightened her.

She pushed away. “I… I need…space.” He didn’t apologise. Or step in to convince her otherwise. He didn’t leave in a huff. He didn’t move. He let her have the space she claimed she wanted.

“I’m not saying I didn’t see that coming,” she said, feeling a rush of words begin to tumble out. Oh, please, don’t let her sound like a hysteric.

“And I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy it. I did. Who wouldn’t? But…but let’s just blame it on the moonlight. And the music. And my most excellent cioppino.

“I know we’re two adults, and a kiss is just a kiss. But if you thought I was sending out signals, I wasn’t. Some women might find you attractive but I can’t afford to.”



Dear Reader,

Blame It on the Dog was the most fun I’ve ever had writing! Not only did I get to brainstorm with four extremely talented writers as we created the SINGLES…WITH KIDS series, but I got to “go to work” every day in San Francisco, a city where anything is possible.

As creative and free-spirited as Selena is, I knew she’d need a hero who would not be deterred either by her staunch independence or her emotional intensity. I’ve always been drawn to the strong, silent type, so Jack was never far from my subconscious. He has his work cut out for him, what with Selena, her adolescent son, Drew, and their overly exuberant mutt Axel, and, even as I wrote the last sentence, I was never thoroughly certain who tamed whom. I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it!

All my best,

Amy

PS As a result of writing Blame It on the Dog, I adopted a dog from our community shelter. When Ozzie first arrived in our home, he was every bit as lovable as Axel – and every bit as undisciplined! As my husband and I walked him to establish pack leadership, we rekindled our own relationship. So romance begets romance!




Blame It on the Dog


AMY FRAZIER




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


An appreciative fan deserves a little fanfare. Betty Ann D, this book is for you! I hope it meets your expectations.


CHAPTER ONE

THE CRASH RATTLED the light fixtures in Selena Milano’s loft apartment and made the CD player skip. Earthquake? Twelve-year-old son? Or dog? Betting dog, she turned from the end of the apartment that served as her studio and took a step toward the ruckus. It wouldn’t be the first time she had to recycle the remnants of an Axel accident into one of her pieces.

“Drew! Are you okay?”

The response from the area of the loft partitioned to create her son’s sleeping quarters wasn’t good. Barking. Laughter. And a scraping noise that sounded as if someone was dragging a barge across the hardwood floor.

“Drew!”

“Chill, Mom, we’re okay.”

She didn’t believe that for a minute.

Fortunately, their oversized apartment in a rehabbed city block in the Mission District had once housed a small garment factory. Delicate it wasn’t, which was good because her family of three seemed to require industrial strength.

“I’m almost finished here!” she shouted above the persistent noise. “Why don’t you get Axel on his leash? Take him downstairs and wait on the sidewalk, but don’t get near Sam’s produce.” Sam was the greengrocer in one of the storefronts under the apartment, and Axel’s nonstop tail always came perilously close to destroying the perfect pyramids of fruit and vegetables Sam erected on his outdoor display counters every morning. Although the Chronicle had reported nearly one half of San Francisco voters were dog owners, Selena seemed to have drawn the one block that had little tolerance for the critters.

Axel himself, one hundred pounds of sheer canine energy, burst out of Drew’s sleeping area and charged the length of the apartment, his leash whipping behind him, clearing the landscape like a bulldozer carving a new suburban subdivision. Several feet away from her, he reared up to plant his front paws on her shoulder. Turning her head to avoid his kiss, she smelled the grape jelly before she saw it on his hairy right foot.

Drew appeared seconds later. “Are you ready?”

Longing for the quiet retreat that was Margo’s Bistro, Selena pushed Axel toward Drew. “Wash his feet in the work sink. I’ll meet you outside after I’ve tried to rescue this top.” Examining the purple smear on her shoulder, she headed for the lavatory. “And don’t let go of the leash.”

That dog. Rescuing him had seemed like such a good idea when Margo had found him half-starved and rummaging in the garbage behind her café. Kindhearted Margo would have taken him in, but she had enough on her plate at the time. So she’d offered him to Selena, who’d been having trouble with Drew and his emerging adolescent angst. Margo thought caring for a pet would help draw him out of his self-involvement. Boy and dog had bonded beautifully. One could call it a growing relationship. The vet had laughed at Selena when she’d brought what she’d thought was a small, but fully grown dog for the necessary shots. Seems Axel was a very large, but emaciated, puppy at the time. Now, ten months and several tons of dog food later, he was a gigantic specimen of overgrown-pup exuberance.

Drew wanted her to do a portrait of his beloved pet. But what materials would convey his size and extraordinary coat? Two-by-fours, an old beer keg and a bale of pine needles?

Unable to eliminate the jelly stain, Selena changed into a clean but worn sweatshirt—why did she never seem to be able to keep clothes new and pretty?—threw on a jacket, grabbed an umbrella, then dashed outside to meet her son. Drew kicked a Hacky Sack on the crowded sidewalk as Axel, tied by his leash to a bike rack, cavorted about, barking loudly and threatening to overturn the rack and a half-dozen bikes. Sam stood outside his shop and eyed both boy and dog uneasily.

“Come on.” Untying Axel, Selena urged her son away from the store.

The dog lunged ahead, dragging Selena and narrowly missing a couple heading into the tattoo parlor. Constantly chasing after this mutt, why wasn’t she a size two?

Although the rain hadn’t started yet, February clouds loomed ominously. It would be quicker to take BART, the underground transit system, but it only allowed service dogs. Her arm pulled nearly out of its socket, Selena harrumphed at the thought of Axel serving anyone but his own dogged interests, which consisted of eating, sleeping and running and jumping, followed by more running and jumping. Drew wanted to take him to the annual Blessing of the Animals on the Feast of St. Francis, but Axel was so ill-behaved Selena despaired of ever making that date. Sadly, their pet would try the patience of even a dead and sainted animal advocate.

Blocks later, the only reason Axel stopped in front of Margo’s Bistro was that he knew Margo or Robert or one of their kids would have a biscuit for him if he stood still and looked pathetic.

“Do you want me to get you something?” Selena asked, handing Drew the leash. After one afternoon of busing tables—before the customers had had a chance to eat the food themselves—Axel was doggie-non-grata inside Margo’s during business hours.

“A ginger-peach smoothie. And, Mom, do you know you have toilet paper stuck to your shoe?”

She looked down at her feet to see a long, white streamer trailing from one heel. Not surprised, but exasperated nonetheless, she bent to remove the offending accessory, then tossed it in the trash can. “Hold on to Axel. I’m going in.”

Too late. The café door opened, and a customer came out. The scrabble of claws on the pavement warned Selena that Drew didn’t have control of his dog. When did he ever? Before she could sound the alarm, the overgrown mutt knocked the man aside, then burst through the doorway, shedding hair and shaking drool and looking for the biscuit that was his due.

A teenager at the counter screamed. Robert stepped protectively in front of the girl as Margo reached for a broom. Axel took the move as an invitation to play and, grabbing the bristles, proceeded to drag Margo for a turn around the café. Selena tried to grab Axel’s collar, but the dog, delighted that everyone found this game as much fun as he did, spun around and planted his front paws on Selena’s shoulders for the second time that day.

“Hey, you two,” Robert called out, trying not to laugh. “We’re only a café. We don’t have a permit for dancing.”

Her son managed to pull his dog to a sitting position.

Margo shook her broom at Drew. “Your mother doesn’t give you an allowance big enough to buy this monster a leash?”

Drew held up the broken end of the now useless restraint. “The third one this week.”

“Oh, no,” Selena moaned. “Now how are you going to take him to the park?”

“I’ll use my belt.”

He might as well. The thing never seemed to hold up his pants.

“And you—” Margo shook her broom at Axel, who now lolled belly-up on the floor at Drew’s feet “—I’m not sure you deserve a cookie.”

“Aw,” Robert said, “can’t you see he’s wasting away to nothing? Skin and bones.” He reached behind the counter, then palmed a biscuit to Drew. “Give it to him in the park. After he’s done something he’s supposed to, for a change. So what’ll you have, kid?”

“I was going to have a smoothie,” Drew replied, eyeing another customer walking through the door, “but I think I’ll just grab a Snapple and head out. Mom’s paying.” Bottle in hand, he shrugged away from Selena’s attempted kiss.

“I have a meeting with a sponsor at noon,” she said after his retreating form. “Pick me up in an hour, but wait outside this time.” She resisted the urge to tell him to zip up his jacket. To ask if he’d remembered gloves. If he wanted the umbrella. Twelve-year-olds were a universe apart from eleven-year-olds in what they would tolerate from Mom. Pity. At times she missed her little boy.

As the door shut behind the pair, warmth and peace descended on the café. Selena desperately needed some quiet time with adults. Ever since she’d walked into Margo’s Bistro from an installation she was doing in SOMA, the café had become a touchstone. A safe haven. A place where no one was a stranger for long.

Robert stepped behind the counter, and as Margo put away her broom, she surreptitiously ran her hand down his back. Selena smiled. Robert, a former flat-out workaholic, had wandered into Margo’s Bistro ten months ago to read the want ads over a cup of coffee. He hadn’t counted on falling for Margo and being swept up in her definitely noncorporate way of life. But did he ever look happy now. Not even a visit from Axel the Demolition Dog could eradicate the smile marriage to Margo had put on his face.

Selena flopped into one of the two overstuffed armchairs by the front window. When Margo joined her in the chair opposite, Selena asked, “Is it too early for Irish coffee?”

“A wee bit. And every time you ask you seem to conveniently forget we don’t have a liquor license.”

“You can’t blame a girl for suggesting.”

“Rough week?”

“No more than usual. You know that controlled chaos I call my life? I think I’m losing the controlled part.” Glancing around the crowded room, Selena didn’t see any of the friends who made up their core circle. “Where is everybody?”

“Well,” Margo replied, stretching slowly and luxuriously as if she were the most contented woman in the world, “Rosie and Hud are still on honeymoon. A working honeymoon, some political retreat in D.C. Casey’s staying with Bailey and Derrick, who’ve taken all the kids to Fisherman’s Wharf today. Say a little prayer for those brave souls. And Nora and Erik are at a medical conference in Lake Tahoe. Nora’s sister has Danny.”

Pairs. Selena was struck by the realization the once tight single-parents coffee group had become a loose confederation of married friends who got together when new, blended and extended family commitments allowed.

And she was the last staunchly single person standing.

“And Ellie and Peter?” she asked before she could examine how she felt about being left behind. “Is it your ex’s weekend to have them?”

“Yes. Tom and Catherine are taking the kids to look at prospective summer camps.”

Selena was pleased to see Margo finally speak of her custody arrangement without a trace of stress.

“So you have my undivided attention,” Margo promised, “and Robert’s on call if we need him.”

As if on cue, Robert brought two cups of coffee, a double mocha with vanilla whipped cream for Margo and espresso for Selena. “Your usual, ladies. Apart from the dog-and-pony show, Selena, how’s it going?”

“Fine. Only if you don’t count the dog.”

“Oh, that sweet baby,” Margo cooed in exaggerated admiration. “You can’t stay mad at him.”

“You don’t live with him. And my neighbors aren’t as forgiving as you two.” Selena sipped her high-octane drink. “I know I wasn’t a dog-savvy person when I agreed to take him, but who knew he’d grow this big?”

“You didn’t notice the size of his paws when we found him?”

“You did?”

“Well, it occurred to me….” Margo suppressed a grin.

“What’s the latest?” Robert asked. “Besides the exhibition here this morning.”

“This week he ate the cushions on my sofa.” Selena shuddered to remember. “And the mail. Five days running. I was so worried about the possible effects—on him—I took him to the vet for X rays. Dr. Wong says Axel has a cast-iron intestinal tract, if you’re interested. Then I received three calls from neighbors about his barking. And, last but not least, yesterday he ran off two students from the dance studio next to Sam’s. I owe for their missed lesson.”

“He may be bored,” Margo suggested.

“How can he be bored when he has Drew for a constant companion? And the two of them never stop moving.”

“Does Drew walk him every day?”

“Walk? Hah! They run everywhere. It’s only a matter of time before they knock someone over, and I have a lawsuit on my hands.”

Robert sat on the arm of Margo’s chair. “Sounds like Axel needs an obedience class.”

“Obedience. What a nasty word,” Selena replied with a frown. “I don’t want to break his spirit.”

“But if he breaks his leash once too often, he’s going to land in the pound,” Margo protested. “And then how will Drew feel?”

“Awful. Simply awful. Me, too.”

“You always say you love controlled chaos. Sounds like it’s time you take control of your dog before a solution is imposed upon you. One you might not like.”

Margo had touched a nerve. She knew just how much Selena hated being backed into a corner. Being told what to do and how to do it.

“I may have a solution,” Robert said. “I have a friend with an older brother who’s a dog trainer. Or psychologist, I’m not sure which. But he has an impressive list of clients. I could get his number for you.”

“A dog shrink?” Selena was skeptical. “Sounds a little too California even for me. Is he on the level?”

“Absolutely. I’ve met him. He’s as nononsense as they come. Besides his private consultations, he rescues and rehabilitates stray and feral dogs.”

“He doesn’t sound flaky,” Margo insisted. “He sounds compassionate.”

Robert rose to wait on a customer. “I’ll get his number for you before you leave.”

Selena remained unconvinced. “I really think Axel will grow out of it,” she said to Margo. “Don’t they say that from eight months to three years dogs are adolescents? So he’s really Drew’s age. The two of them are growing so fast they can’t control their own bodies. And I don’t expect Drew will be on an emotional roller coaster forever. He’ll mature and settle down. So will Axel. Nature has a way of sorting these things out.”

“If you say so.”

“You’re giving me that look.”

“What look?”

“The one that says I’m being stubborn.”

“You said it, I didn’t.”

Selena sighed. “I’ll call this dog shrink. But if he shows the first sign of training the joy out of Axel, he’s gone. I may not want my sofa in shreds, but if I’d wanted a robot, I would have bought one of those electronic pets.”

Robert came back with a name and phone number on a slip of paper. He gave the paper to Selena and a rather soulful kiss to Margo before returning to the counter.

Margo’s expression turned dreamy. “What a lovely man.”

“The dog shrink?”

“No, silly. Robert. And he has really nice friends. Just say the word—”

“No, thank you! Not everyone is cut out to be part of a couple. Two males in my life are enough, even if one’s a dog.”

Margo laughed. “Selena, my friend, some day love is going to sneak up on you and catch you so unaware. I, for one, would pay to see that show.”

“How about you pay to see a more likely show? When Axel makes short work of this—” Selena glanced at the slip of paper “—Jack Quinn.”

HE WAS STRUCK not so much by the sullen adolescent who opened the door, but by the overwhelming clutter and confusion of the apartment behind the kid. Even that impression took a backseat to the powerful baying of an unseen dog miserable at being shut away somewhere. The distinct smell of acetylene hung in the air, giving the whole situation a decidedly film noir feel.

“I’m Jack Quinn,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m here to talk about Axel.”

The boy ignored the offered hand. “Mom! He’s here!”

Jack looked toward the far end of the large loft where a figure turned, removed a welding helmet and put down a torch. A woman. As she approached, she unzipped a paint-spattered coverall. A riot of short dark curls framed a face made exotic by large brown eyes and full lips. As she walked, she shrugged out of the coverall, an act that looked for all the world like a butterfly emerging from her cocoon. He tried not to dwell on the sinuous movement of her arms and legs as she freed herself from the heavy outer garment. Underneath the drab coverall, she was dressed in a pink tank top and orange shorts, and although it was winter dreary and cold outside, a light sheen of perspiration covered her body, pulling her clothing to her curves. She kicked off red cowboy boots to reveal bare feet and hot pink painted toenails. Every movement was a kaleidoscope of sensuality.

He caught himself. How long had it been since he’d focused on a woman’s looks? A long time.

“I’m Selena Milano.” Seemingly unfazed by either the surrounding mess or noise, she stood before him in the doorway, her hand outstretched. “And this is my son, Drew. You can hear Axel. We put him in the bathroom until you tell us how this procedure works.”

He took her hand and noted it wasn’t delicate as he might expect from her appearance. It was substantial, her shake assertive, bringing him back to professional mode. The normal curiosity he always felt at the beginning of a case returned. Having worked with many troublesome dogs, he knew most of the problems arose not with the dogs but with the owners. His job with the dogs always proved easy. His role where the humans were concerned ended up as part detective, part diplomat, part counselor.

“Do you want to meet Axel now?” Selena asked, raising her voice to be heard over the dog’s protests, but not indicating in any way Jack should enter the apartment.

“In a minute. First, I’d like to hear how you two see the problem.”

To one side of the door, Drew remained a silent sentry, his eyes averted.

“I’m not sure it’s a problem really,” Selena said, unmoving. “He’s just a big baby.”

Baby or not, Jack bet the neighboring business owners and apartment dwellers considered the incessant howling a real issue. Especially now on a Tuesday evening, after a long day’s work. “How old is he?”

“We’re not exactly sure. He was a stray. The vet’s best guess is about a year now, give or take a few weeks.”

“Old enough to know better.”

Selena bristled. “He had a very hard start to his life. He was a Dumpster dog. Because of that, we may have cut him some slack. But let me assure you, he’s well loved now. A member of the family.”

“He’s a dog.”

“Duh.” Drew spoke for the first time.

“I’m not being sarcastic,” Jack replied, beginning to feel uncomfortable standing just outside the loft. It was obvious these two had called him under pressure. There was nothing voluntary about this interview. He had to be careful how he handled their hostility if the dog was to get help. “Dogs are different than humans. They’re pack animals and happiest when they have a strong leader. The best dog is a calm, submissive dog.”

“Two of my least favorite words are dominance and submission,” Selena snapped. “If these are your training techniques, I think you’d better leave.”

“I’m not a dog trainer, I’m a dog behaviorist. If you give me a chance to explain the real nature of dogs and their needs, I think you’ll see how we can address Axel’s behavior. But if you want me to leave, I will.”

She held his gaze for a long minute. “Since I’ve maxed out my credit card in advance for this visit, let’s hear what you have to say. Come on in and sit down.” She indicated a sofa, partially covered with a brightly colored throw and a huge pile of laundry.

When he sat, the corner of the throw flipped back, exposing a badly chewed cushion. Selena perched on a chair opposite as if the shambles of the room was a palace and she its queen. Drew slouched against the wall by the door, glowering at the adults. Axel’s barking had to a piteous moan.

“Is Axel neutered?” Jack asked.

“Of course,” Selena replied as if this was an impertinent question from a rather dim courtier.

“Good.” He needed to find some positive starting point. “You’ve already scored points as responsible pet owners.”

From his lookout by the door, Drew rolled his eyes.

“What are the things Axel does that you’d like corrected?” he asked, persevering.

“Well…he chews everything,” Selena answered, cautiously. “But maybe he’s teething.”

Jack noted the excuse as he glanced at the innumerable ratty chew toys strewn about the floor amid even more laundry and several half-eaten sneakers. “What else?”

“He jumps on people.”

Drew moved a few steps away from the wall. “I don’t mind when he jumps on me. He’s only playing. He’s not vicious or anything.”

“Oh, no. Just the opposite,” Selena added. “He’s awfully cute. You’ll see. And affectionate. But he doesn’t know his own strength, so you can’t expect Mrs. Bierdermeyer, who’s eighty-six and walks with a cane, to be as enthusiastic about his advances. We don’t want to break Axel’s spirit, but we don’t want him to break Mrs. B’s hip.”

“Mrs. Bierdermeyer is a neighbor?”

“Yes.”

“Do you only see her when you take Axel out?”

“Yes.”

“So you’re saying he’s out of control even on a leash.”

Selena tilted her chin imperiously upward. “We don’t expect him to heel every minute if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Ah.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think it’s time I met Axel.”

Selena narrowed her eyes. “Drew, please, let him out of the bathroom.”

As the boy disappeared behind a partition, Jack stood to assume the calm, in-charge stance he used when meeting any new dog. “I’m going to observe. Pretend I’m not here.”

“I don’t think that will be poss—”

The apartment shook as a furry juggernaut burst into the room and caromed off the walls and furniture with Drew in hot pursuit.

“Axel, no!” Selena jumped up and joined the chase.

She’d described the dog as “cute.” It wouldn’t have been the description Jack would have used for the mixed breed. He loved dogs, but he didn’t idealize them. This one in particular. The shaggy head of a terrier sat on the tan, barrel-chested body of a chow, punctuated by a chow’s high, plumy tail. A herder’s very long, strong legs completed the incongruous picture. Make that motion picture.

In a tangle of paws and feet, the boy wrestled the dog to the floor. It was obvious Axel loved every minute of the roughhousing. Finally, Selena snagged his collar. When Drew rolled out from under him and headed for the sofa, Axel followed, dragging Selena. The boy, the woman and the dog collapsed on the sofa with the dog stretched across both owners’ laps, his tongue lolling from a mouth wide open in a silent canine laugh. It was clear who was in charge here. The queen had been dethroned.

“I can help you,” Jack said simply.

Selena laughed, and the sound was music. “We don’t care how he behaves inside! We just need a few training techniques so he can fly under the radar and not get in trouble when we take him out.”

Looking at the absolute disarray in the apartment, so different from his own spare living quarters, he begged to differ. Animals and humans alike could benefit from order, routine, stability. Memory flickered. Of his own childhood with a military stepfather. As a boy he hated the constant moving, the impermanence. Ironically, what kept him from feeling lost and adrift in his movable world was the discipline his stepfather brought to the household. It was obvious how Axel handled the turmoil. Jack wondered how Drew handled it.

Selena cleared her throat.

“Ah…about Axel…” he said, unaccustomed to being caught off guard. “You have to exercise discipline before you exercise affection. I can teach you how.”

“You mean we have to be cruel to be kind?” Selena’s brief smile faded as she stroked Axel’s floppy ear. “No, thanks.”

“I’m not talking about cruelty. In any form.” He wondered why the words discipline and submission had pushed this beautiful woman’s buttons. “I’m talking about the natural order of things. In the animal world. Don’t project human issues on your pet.”

Too late he realized he’d been focusing on Selena to the exclusion of Drew, and that Drew had noticed.

Glaring at Jack, the boy pushed Axel off his lap and moved closer to Selena. Like a feisty little junkyard mutt protecting his territory. “I don’t know, Mom,” he said. “Maybe we don’t need a dog shrink.”

Jack ignored the insulting tone of voice. There was no mention or evidence of a Mr. Milano. By this kid’s behavior alone, Jack would bet Drew had been the man of the house for some time. The dog needed help, sure, but not enough for Jack to step into the middle of possibly touchy family dynamics. The stepson of a man who’d never let go of the step distinction, Jack knew what it was like to guard from intruders the little bit you thought you owned.

He pulled a business card out of his pocket and handed it deliberately to Drew. “It’s your dog, your decision,” he said before moving toward the door. He could see Axel in the kitchen, rummaging through an overturned trash bin. “Call me if you change your mind. The fee that went on your charge card was for my standard three sessions. After today’s consultation, if you decide to go elsewhere, I’ll refund the price of two.”

As he descended the stairs from the apartment, he thought of the woman above. In the five years since his wife Anneka’s death, he’d worked with many women in an effort to rehabilitate their usually spoiled dogs. In the past year he’d begun to date. In all that time he hadn’t met one woman who aroused a personal curiosity, no one for whom he regretted saying a final farewell. Until today.

Warmed by, but distrusting, this instant attraction to Selena Milano, he pushed through the building door to cool, moist air, into the neighborhood changing from bustling daytime business to early evening social. Normally a solitary man, he found the sounds of music, the smell of food, the shouts from neighbor to neighbor jarring. If Selena interested him, why not ask her out? He knew why. Her son. Although Jack might be drawn to the woman, he’d be a fool to pursue even the most casual relationship in the face of the boy’s obvious antagonism.


CHAPTER TWO

WITH THE MOUTHWATERING aroma of tamales floating up from the taquerías across the street, Selena sat on a stool on the roof of her building, checking the fabric samples laid out in the open. They were for an upcoming installation on the campus of San Francisco State University. The theme was tolerance, and Selena envisioned scrims stretched taut on enormous frames planted in the earth. On one side would be a picture and personal statement by an ordinary person, describing a small, everyday act of tolerance. On the other a visual pulled from the headlines showing the stark reality of intolerance. She wanted the contrasting images imposed on opposing sides of fabric to highlight what little lay between the two directions. She didn’t have the whole ideological thing worked out yet. Or even the execution. Right now she and Maxine, her assistant, were testing fabrics to find the one most likely to stand up to both the printing process and four weeks of San Francisco’s ever-changing weather.

Drew had taken Axel for an after-school walk—well, run—in the park. For the past few days, he’d been committed to burning off some of his pal’s energy. Neither Selena nor Drew wanted to have to bring back Jack Quinn and his boot-camp ideas. Trouble was the outings seemed to be stoking Axel’s energy levels, not diminishing them.

With a groan, Maxine stood up. “I have to move around. You want some coffee?”

“Please. I made a fresh pot before we came up.” Blowing on her hands, Selena watched Maxine head for the door to the stairway to the apartment below. Although it was probably fifty degrees, up here you caught the brisk winds off the Pacific. Coffee sounded good.

Maxine had been Selena’s art teacher in high school. And when Selena had come back to San Francisco, pregnant, her old home sold, her parents off saving the world, Maxine had helped her find her first job at a community center, teaching adult education art classes. They’d stayed in touch, and when Maxine retired, she’d been eager to keep her artistic juices flowing as Selena’s Jill-of-all-trades assistant. She was also the only grandparent figure Drew knew up close and personal.

“I put a little something in it,” Maxine said, returning several minutes later with two mugs.

“Thanks.” Selena would have to be careful. Maxine’s “little somethings” could knock your socks off. And Selena was really only a two-glasses-of-wine imbiber.

Maxine leaned against the low brick wall that edged the roof. “So are you going to tell me about the dog shrink?”

Selena had been avoiding that subject. “I don’t think he liked it when Drew called him that.”

“The sensitive type. Well, pardon me.”

“Sensitive is the last word I’d use to describe this guy. If I had to pick only one word, it would be controlling.”

“Oh? Whips and masks?”

“He was more subtle. But controlling all the same. Not to mention frosty, smug and a tad dogmatic. Pun intended. Talked a lot about discipline and submission.”

Maxine chuckled. “I’m assuming he was talking about Axel. And a little discipline wouldn’t hurt that four-legged brat.”

“You know how I feel about relationships—even cross-species relationships. They should be built on equality and mutual respect.”

“Then I bet you and this guy got on like a house afire.”

Selena grimaced at the unpleasant thought of Mr. I-Will-Teach-You-To-Be-Pack-Leader Quinn.

“Hey, Selena, give him a break. He’s a dog trainer, for pity’s sake. Someone’s got to be in charge of the training. It might as well be the human.”

“He didn’t like being called a dog trainer, either.”

“So what does he think he is?”

“I don’t know. Some kind of Zen master, for all I know. It doesn’t matter anyway. We gave him the boot.”

“And your backup plan would be?”

“I don’t have—”

Just then a crash and an ear-splitting shriek came from the sidewalk below, followed closely by a string of baritone expletives. Selena jumped up to peer over the wall and saw a river of fruit rolling in a cascade of oranges, yellows, greens and reds over the pavement and into the street.

Axel. She’d bet the farm.

She tore downstairs with Maxine on her heels. Outside, one of the stands that bracketed the produce market door lay overturned on the sidewalk. As Drew and several customers scrambled to right the stand and pick up the fruit, Sam raced around, waving his arms and chasing Axel, who held a grapefruit in his mouth and didn’t seem to understand why Sam didn’t want to play fetch.

On one of his run-bys, Selena grabbed Axel’s collar, then Drew’s sleeve. “Take him upstairs. Now. I’ll settle with Sam.” For once, Drew disappeared with his dog, without argument.

“Sam! Calm down!” Selena stepped in front of the red-faced man who seemed intent on following Axel right up into the apartment. “I’ll clean this up. You tend to your customers.”

“And what will they buy?” Sam growled. “My fruit is ruined!”

“Not all of it, I’m sure,” Maxine said, stepping up to take Sam’s arm, urging him into his shop. “Selena and I’ll check every piece. If it’s good we’ll restack it.”

“And if it’s damaged, I’ll pay for it,” Selena added, her heart sinking. Bruised fruit could not be counted as a project expense. Now breakfast and lunch for the next week looked like smoothies, smoothies and more smoothies. “I’m sorry, Sam. I promise it won’t happen again.”

Maxine almost had the greengrocer inside his shop when he whirled to face Selena. “That dog of yours is a menace. A menace! Do you see Charlie?” Sam waved his arm in the direction of the homeless man across the street, pushing a grocery cart and leading a very large dog as homeless as he. Charlie and Pip existed on the kindness of those who lived and worked in the neighborhood. “Charlie’s taught Pip more manners than most of the parents on this street have taught their kids. Why can’t you control your dog, as well?”

Selena didn’t have an answer to that.

A minivan with the city logo on the side pulled up, and a uniformed woman hopped out, a pole with capture-loop in hand.

“Oh, Sam!” Selena cried. “You didn’t call Animal Control!”

“What else could he do?” Isadore, the owner of the dance studio, asked as a small crowd of neighbors began to gather. “Your dog’s been a problem for all of us.”

His remark was met with nods all around.

“Where’s the dog?” the officer asked.

“My son took him upstairs,” Selena replied. “Everything’s under control.”

“Everything’s not under control,” Sam snapped, indicating the fruit on the ground. “As you can see.”

“Was the dog off-leash when this happened?” the officer asked.

“No,” Sam admitted. “But a leash does no good. Her kid can’t handle that overgrown mutt.”

“Is this true, ma’am?”

“Occasionally…yes.” What else could she say as her neighbors stared her down?

“Did he bite anyone?”

“No! He’s not a biter!” Selena felt insulted on Axel’s behalf.

“He’s a barker!” Isadore exclaimed, warming to the exchange. “Day and night, night and day. Try teaching a dance class when you can hear his yapping over the music.”

“And he never met a garbage can he couldn’t overturn,” someone at the back of the group groused. “Or a lamppost he didn’t christen.”

Selena felt outnumbered. “In our defense, we had a meeting with a dog behaviorist.” She couldn’t believe she was using the odious Jack Quinn to bolster her case. “He says he can turn the situation around. We signed up for three sessions.” Semi-truth if you considered that, until now, she hadn’t planned on seeing him again.

The control officer looked dubious. “Do you have a receipt?”

“Somewhere.” Maybe.

“You’ll need to bring it down to our offices. And, later, proof of course completion. Successful completion. There’s a fine if you don’t comply. Worst-case scenario if there are more complaints, we can impound the dog. So this is serious business. Understand?”

“I understand,” Selena said with sinking heart.

The officer leaned the capture pole against the building, then pulled out a notebook. “In the meantime, I’m writing you a ticket. For disturbing the peace.”

Selena knew this was the time to keep her mouth shut, but when she looked at the ticket, she couldn’t contain herself. “A hundred bucks!”

“And you need to clean up this man’s produce.”

“I’ll take care of it.” Although, as she picked up and inspected Chilean and New Zealand kiwis, pomegranates and mangoes, she wasn’t sure how. Other than asking Jack Quinn for help. More difficult than turning tail and admitting she might need that overbearing man was the thought of convincing Drew of the need.

Drew had liked Jack less than Selena had.

After restacking the saleable fruit and paying for two very large sacks of bruised items—Axel gave new meaning to the phrase “doggie bag”—Selena trudged up to her apartment.

“I’ll finish up on the roof,” Maxine said on the landing. “Call if you need reinforcements.”

Inside the apartment an uncharacteristic silence met her. It seemed both boy and dog—who were nowhere to be seen—knew they’d stepped in deep doo-doo this time for sure. “Drew!”

“In here.” She followed her son’s dejected voice into his room.

He was sprawled on his bed next to Axel. A telephone book lay on the floor, open to the yellow pages. “I tried to find someone else, but there’s no listing for dog shrink.”

“No matter what Mr. Quinn calls himself, I think we’d have to look under dog training.” Selena sat on the edge of the bed. “But we need to talk first.”

“You don’t really want to use this guy, do you?”

No, she didn’t, but her reasons went beyond Jack Quinn’s untested approach to Axel’s reformation. “Why don’t you want to use him?”

“I didn’t like the way he looked at you.”

So her son’s reasons weren’t too far from her own. Except she didn’t know how she felt about the intense way Quinn looked at her. “He knows I’m the one paying,” she offered in explanation. “I think he was trying to convince the comptroller Axel needs help.” She rubbed the dog’s belly. “But we already know that, don’t we?”

“I guess. That doesn’t mean we can’t get help somewhere else.”

“I’ve been thinking about that.” This wasn’t easy for her to admit. “First, Robert recommended this guy. And when I called Dr. Wong for a vet reference, she said he’d be her first choice, too. I wouldn’t know any of these other people in the phone book or their qualifications. Second, I paid Quinn up front. I know he said we could get a refund, but that might end up a hassle. Third, remember it took a week and a half to get him over here? We need help now. If we have to wait another week-and-a-half to get someone new, Sam’s not going to be happy. I bet I could call this Quinn character right now and tell him it’s an emergency, and he’d set up our second visit, pronto.”

“You think?”

“I won’t get off the phone till he does.”

Drew buried his face in Axel’s hairy hide. “I saw Animal Control from the window. Are they gonna take him?”

“Only if we don’t do something quick. I hate to admit it, but we already have the wheels in motion with this guy Quinn.”

“Okay.” Drew didn’t sound in the least convinced. “Call him.”

“Do you still have his card?”

Drew rummaged in his wastebasket and pulled out two ripped halves.

Selena took the pieces, then went into the kitchen to make the call.

He picked up on the first ring. “Jack Quinn here.” She could imagine his deep-set eyes. His stern look relayed over air and wire to skewer her right here in her home.

“H-hello,” she croaked. “This is Selena Milano. You were here a few days ago.”

“I remember. Axel, right?”

“Right. Well…it seems we can use your help after all.”

The long pause caught her off guard. “Mr. Quinn?”

“It’s Jack. I was looking through my schedule. Do you want to come to my center for the second session next Tuesday?”

“Um…we sort of need something yesterday.”

“Someone’s lodged a complaint.”

She hated that he was right. “Y-yes.”

“I’m sensing, even with the complaint, you’re not committed to this process.”

“Oh, I am! It would break Drew’s heart—and Axel’s—if anything should separate them.”

“All right. I can show you and your son everything Axel needs to be happy and well-adjusted. But are you willing to see Axel as a dog, not a furry child? Are you willing to follow my directions?”

She thought about this.

“Selena?” The quiet way he said her name sent shivers down her spine.

“I’m thinking.”

“Well, think about this, too. Can you bring yourself to use the words submission and discipline without thinking of them as negatives?”

How dare he challenge her? She nearly hung up the phone until she remembered the threat of Animal Control. For Drew and Axel—not for Mr. Take Charge on the other end of the line—she finally said, “Yes.” A qualified yes.

“I’m assuming you want Drew to be present. Tomorrow’s Saturday. Come to my center at eleven, and I’ll fit you in.” He gave her the address in an industrial part of town. “Leave Axel at home.”

The man was impossible. “Do you understand the emergency involves Axel? My neighbor isn’t threatening to send my son and me to the pound.”

“I understand. But we’re not going to get anywhere with Axel until you understand a few basics. I want you to observe my pack of well-adjusted dogs.”

His pack of dogs? What was this guy? Urban jungle boy? “And that’s going to help our problem?” she asked, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice.

“Absolutely. Trust me.”

Oh, no. She might have agreed to follow his doggie-shrink routine for two more paidup sessions, but trust him? She’d learned the hard way to trust no one but herself.

SELENA HATED missing Saturday mornings at Margo’s. That was when she was most likely to run into friends. It seemed ages since she’d caught up with all the others, but the issue with Axel wouldn’t go away. Maybe, if things went well at the dog center, Drew and she could stop in at the café later for scones.

The address Quinn had given her appeared to be a vacant lot between two warehouses. A high, chain-link fence backed by green tarp fronted the property. Stretched on the fence to one side of a wide roll-gate was a professionally painted banner that read Canine Rescue and Rehabilitation with a Web site below. Selena stepped up to a call box hanging next to the gate and pressed the button.

A voice—definitely not Quinn’s deep rumble—said, “May I help you?”

“Selena and Drew Milano. We have an eleven o’clock appointment with Jack Quinn. I know we’re a bit early, but I couldn’t be sure how easy this place would be to find.”

The gate swung open even as the disembodied voice replied, “No problem.”

Selena and Drew stepped into an enclosed area beautifully designed like a Japanese garden. There was the sound of running water, but not a dog in sight. A young man stepped out of a small building to greet them. “Jack said if you got here early, I was to give you a tour. He’s working with a pretty intense case right now, but he’ll be free shortly. I’m Andy. One of the assistants.”

“How many people work here?” Selena was under the impression Jack worked alone with his pack of feral dogs. Out of his jungleboy cave. In a loincloth.

“Three full-timers, including Jack. Three more part-timers. And a half-dozen interns. When it comes to dog issues, we’re the go-to people.” Andy looked quite proud of the fact. “When you’re dealing with animals, it’s a twenty-four-seven, year-round operation. And when you see the size of our resident pack, you’ll see why we need a large crew.”

“So where are the dogs?” Drew asked.

“Through the next gate.” Andy indicated the chain-link fence on the far side of the garden. This fence was covered with tarp as well, so that what was on the other side remained a mystery.

“This is an unusual entrance for a dog center,” Selena said, looking around at the contained yet peaceful landscape.

“Jack designed it with a purpose,” Andy explained. “He believes dog owners must exhibit calm leadership. Even visitors to the center. The garden helps you relax and focus before you enter the dog compound.” He led them toward the far gate. “There’s one more holding area—for humans—but you can observe the pack from there.”

“You keep talking about a pack. How many dogs are there?”

Andy grinned as he slid the second gate open. “You’ll see.”

Selena heard Drew gasp as they stepped into another smaller fenced-in area overlooking a compound the size of a football field neatly subdivided. In the very large section beyond the one in which they stood, dozens of dogs milled quietly about. Some lounged in the shade of awnings hung from the fenced perimeter. Others splashed in water-filled kiddy pools. Still others chased a ball in what looked like a canine game of pickup soccer. Selena was struck by the placid atmosphere even though the dogs were left to their own devices.

“There’s no barking,” Drew said in a near whisper.

“No,” Andy replied. “These are well-adjusted dogs. But they weren’t always like this.”

As a group of dogs came up to the fence, curious to check out the visitors, Selena noted there wasn’t a hyper Axel amongst them. No whining, barking or jumping on the chain link. As well-behaved as they were, however, she saw they weren’t even city-pound-quality. Some were missing a leg, others an eye. Many of them bore ancient scars. “These guys aren’t ever going to be adopted, are they?” she asked.

“It’s doubtful,” Andy replied. “But they have a home for the rest of their lives. Here. Jack’s seen to that. He’s even worked out a deal with the homeless in the area. If, for any reason, they can’t take care of their dogs, they can bring them here. No questions asked. Even if it’s just temporarily until the person thinks they can take care of the dog again.”

Selena wasn’t sure she was ready for Quinn to turn out to be a nice guy.

“Jack’s working at the far end in one of the isolation pens,” Andy said. “I’ll give you the tour as we make our way to him.”

“Through there?” Selena squeaked, as Andy moved to open the gate to the freeroaming dog area. Suddenly wading through a mass of street dogs seemed a little daunting.

“Sure,” Andy replied. “You do know how to meet dogs for the first time?”

“There’s a right way?”

“Absolutely.” Andy looked especially at Drew, who seemed mesmerized by the pack. “No eye contact. No talking. No touching. At least until they’ve sniffed you thoroughly. Keep your head high, your shoulders back. Act like you own the world.”

“Mom’s good at that,” Drew quipped.

“You’ll do fine,” Andy replied with a smile. “When we step through the gate, walk slowly toward the end of the compound, keeping your eyes on the top of that flagpole. I’ll tell you when you can stop and interact.”

She remembered how she’d just scooped up Axel as a pup and brought him home. If dogs were really this complicated they should issue owners’ manuals. The thought gave her pause, but as Andy opened the gate, she took Drew’s hand—it was testament to the power of the pack that he let her—and stepped into Jack Quinn’s world.

She hadn’t anticipated how difficult it would be to walk and not acknowledge the dogs she felt sniffing about her. Her first instinct, once she realized how truly well-behaved they were, was to greet them, pet them, get to know their individual personalities. But, having closed the gate, Andy walked alongside her with a hand on her back propelling her gently, silently forward. It all felt so ritualized she couldn’t help wonder if she’d gotten herself involved in some canine cult.

“Okay,” Andy said quietly. “Stop and look around.”

What a letdown. Most of the dogs had wandered off to resume their previous activities. “What just happened?” she asked. “Or didn’t.”

“I’m assuming you have a dog who greets you differently.”

“And how!” Drew said.

“They’ve acknowledged you as calm, assertive leaders,” Andy explained. “Now they’re just hanging out.”

“But we don’t want a dog that ignores us,” Selena protested.

“Of course not.” Andy whistled, and several dogs, tails wagging, responded quickly—still not jumping. He petted each in turn and urged Drew and Selena to do the same. “But you need to learn when to give affection. Always when a dog is calm. Giving it when the dog is overly excited just reinforces the unacceptable behavior.”

Selena didn’t know if she was buying in to this behavioristic rigmarole, but Drew seemed enamored of the circling dogs.

Andy glanced at his watch. “Jack should be about finished. Let’s wind up the tour.” He led them to yet another gate.

For the first time Selena noticed beyond the fenced-in dog area an outer walkway that connected the earlier holding area for humans to an area in the back where several people were bathing animals, while others worked with owners and their leashed pets. There was plenty of room left over for what looked like an agility training course and a semipermanent trailer with an Office sign hung by the door.

“You mean to tell me,” she said, “we didn’t have to walk through that sea of dogs?”

“Jack’s orders.”

Was the guy trying to intimidate her?

“Why is he in there?” Drew asked, pointing to a row of large cages at the far end of the property, each housing a single dog. Jack was in one of the pens with what looked like a spitz mix that had been muzzled.

Andy led them to stand a distance from the cages, then stopped. He spoke in hushed tones. “He’s working with an abandoned dog. Very aggressive. The original rescuing shelter recommended he be put down as dangerous. But Jack rarely gives up on a dog. He thinks this one can be rehabilitated into our pack. The dog’s accepted Jack’s presence. Now Jack needs to show him who’s leader.”

Drew took a step forward, but Andy put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “We can watch from here. But you’re going to have to be very still. Radiate calm energy. Dogs can definitely sense otherwise. And you have to understand the struggle going on inside the pen involves no physical hurt to the animal. Jack’s trying to put him on the ground. The ultimate submissive position for a dog.”

Quinn controlled the large dog with what looked like an insubstantial leash looped high on the dog’s neck behind the ears. Without speaking, Quinn slowly lowered the shortened leash to the ground, forcing the dog to lower its head. If Quinn was trying to get the dog to put its entire body on the ground in submission, however, the spitz was having none of it. After a few seconds with its head lowered, it would growl and thrash and manage to get to its feet. Quietly, Quinn would begin the procedure over again. At one point, he seemed to see an opportunity to bring the dog farther down. With the spitz’s head on the ground and its eyes momentarily averted, Quinn encircled its chest and attempted to roll the dog on its back, all in a slow and silent, yet forceful, way that reminded Selena of a martial arts exercise.

Despite herself, she was now transfixed by the battle of wills between man and dog, fascinated by Quinn’s patient strength.

Not Drew.

An appalled look on his face, he suddenly hurtled toward the cage. “Stop it!” he shouted, running forward and banging on the chain link. “You’re hurting him! Stop!”

Startled, Quinn released the dog, who charged the fence, teeth bared inside the muzzle. As Andy pulled Drew back, Selena noticed that in the struggle to regain his footing, the spitz had sliced Quinn’s nostril with one of its nails. Blood flowed from the trainer’s nose onto his shirt as he slipped out of the pen, a barely restrained fury etched on his features. The spitz set up an unholy howling that reverberated throughout the compound and set the rest of the dogs barking in response. Handlers and owners could be heard, snapping commands to regain control of their animals.

Without a word, Quinn led Selena and Drew to the nearby trailer office as Andy trotted off toward the dog pack area.

Inside Quinn grabbed a bunch of tissues, pressed them to his nose, then turned to Drew. “What you did was extremely dangerous.” Although he didn’t raise his voice, his words came out clipped and careful.

Selena could see by the blood soaking the tissue that her son’s interruption had proven dangerous enough. “Here, let me look at your nose,” she said, stepping forward, her nurturing instincts aroused.

“I’ll be fine,” Quinn replied and brushed her aside to focus on Drew. “Do you hear the rest of the dogs in the compound?” The barking had yet to stop. “Distress, fear, aggression can run through a pack like wildfire. You set off the spitz. He set off the rest. Even in a stable pack if an alarm is sounded, if members are unsure, they often lash out instinctively. Hurt before getting hurt. The dogs could hurt each other. Or their handlers. One false move, and I could have hurt the spitz.”

“You were hurting him!” Shaking, Drew was close to tears.

“No. It was a natural struggle for dominance. For that dog to live with my pack—for him to live—he can’t be the pack leader. Not in his aggressive state. There’s no question he’d eventually kill another member of the pack. He needs to submit to me as leader. Then there’s no jockeying with the dogs. Then he can co-exist with the others. That’s how it works in the dog world.”

“You’re making that up!” Drew spit back, unrepentant. “You’re nothing but a bully, but you’re not the boss of me! And I’m not letting you near my dog!” Before Selena could react, her son ran from the trailer.

When she attempted to follow, Quinn grasped her wrist. “Andy will take care of him.”

Through the window she could see the assistant already with Drew, leading him along the outer walkway to the waiting area at the front of the compound.

“Do you think I was bullying the dog?” he asked, genuine concern showing in his dark eyes, making his chiseled features appear, if not softer, then at least less granite like.

She shook off his hand that still encircled her wrist. “No, I don’t think you were bullying him.” Although at this particular moment, with her son so upset, it was a hard admission for her to make. “Andy explained it’s a very difficult case…but that you wouldn’t hurt him.”

“I’ll help you with Axel. From what I saw, he won’t require the technique you just observed. But you have to deal with Drew’s issues as well.”

“My son’s issues?”

“He didn’t just react. He overreacted. And the use of the word bully…maybe he feels picked on at school or in the neighborhood. Is that the case?”

“No!” At least she didn’t think so. Besides, it wasn’t any of this guy’s business.

“Learning to be a good pack leader to Axel might make Drew feel more self-assured.”

“Now you’re saying my son’s not sel-fassured?”

“I know the age. I’ve been there myself. One foot in boyhood, one in adulthood. Not sure where you belong. Not sure whether you can live up to the macho expectations of your peers and pop culture. I’m saying something set your son off just now. It might be wise to find out what.”

Selena felt her maternal hackles rising. “Look, buddy, you might think of yourself as Dog Yoda—though I’m not convinced I even want to put my dog under your control—but keep your pet psychobabble away from us humans. Nobody tells me how to raise my kid.” In a self-righteous huff, she stormed out of the trailer in search of her son.

Jack watched her go, not so much surprised at her outburst, but at his own reaction to it. He should be angry at the challenge to his expertise. Or, at the very least, turned off by her arrogant behavior. He wasn’t.

The smart course of action would be to write the Milanos off. He rubbed the back of his neck in frustration as he realized the opportunity to follow that very sensible path had passed. In his tumbling thoughts only one thing was clear. Now that he’d met her, it was impossible to disregard, dismiss or forget a woman like Selena.


CHAPTER THREE

SUNDAY MORNING, Selena stood outside Drew’s closed bedroom door about to make yet another attempt at talking with her son. Yesterday when they’d come home, he’d given her the silent treatment. All afternoon and evening. He’d even refused a visit to Margo’s Bistro, and, with his adolescent hollow leg, he never passed up a chance to eat one of Margo’s magnificent creations. This morning he hadn’t come out of his room. And, although she’d told Quinn to butt out of her business, she couldn’t stop thinking about his words, couldn’t help worrying there might be some truth to them.

“Drew, may I come in?”

When silence met her request, she cracked the door in case her son wore headphones and hadn’t heard her. He lay across his bed, drawing, a cereal box tipped precariously on the edge of the nightstand, headphones nowhere in sight. Axel, ignoring his dog bed on the floor, lay across Drew’s pillows, four enormous paws in the air.

She took a step into the room. “I’d like to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“Anything you want.” Sitting on the corner of the bed, she noticed an Axel-like superdog, complete with cape, dominated her son’s drawing. Action-hero Axel vanquished a legion of robots who all bore a remarkable resemblance to Jack Quinn.

“I don’t want to talk about anything,” Drew said.

“Not even yesterday?”

He shook his head.

“What about school? We’ve been so busy lately we haven’t had a chance to catch up. Anything I should know?”

He gave her a scathing look, one that told her in no uncertain terms he saw right through her nosy ploy, but he refused to answer.

Okay. About now, she could use some advice from her friends with kids on finessing words out of a reluctant twelve-year-old. Without that advice, she’d have to resort to her usual, not always successful candor. “When you walk Axel alone…does anyone give you a hard time?”

“You think?” Over his shoulder Drew glanced at his dog taking up most of the bed.

Even asleep, snoring peacefully, the beast looked like…well, a beast. Knowing what he was like in motion, Selena honestly doubted anyone messed with Drew in Axel’s company. But something was bugging her kid.

Where did the child who shared everything with her go?

The doorbell rang, waking Axel. It was probably Maxine. They were supposed to work on logistics for the SFSU installation. Maybe in a grandmotherly role, Maxine could get something out of Drew. When Selena got up, so did Axel, who knocked the box of cereal on the floor, spilling its contents amidst the other preteen disorder.

The doorbell rang again, sending the dog into paroxysms of barking on his way to the door.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” She pushed Axel out of the way. “If you’d remembered your key, we wouldn’t have to go through—”

She opened the door not to Maxine, but to Jack Quinn.

As Axel barked and reared up on his hind feet, Quinn took a half step forward. Chest high, broad shoulders back, with a lock of dark hair falling over one eye, he looked more than a little intimidating. Axel must have felt the same because, amazingly, he stopped barking, put all fours on the ground and turned to leave. Quinn didn’t let him. Before either Selena or Axel knew what was happening, the man reached out and secured the dog’s collar, placed a firm hand on his rump, then put him in a sitting position. When Axel attempted to stand, Quinn merely put out his hand and uttered a quick, quiet, but commanding, “Hut!” Axel stayed. Moreover, his look went from stunned to adoring.

“How did you do that?” Selena asked, rather stunned herself.

“I’ve been trying to tell you it’s not rocket science.” He held out a DVD. “Maybe if Drew looked at this—”

“I’m willing to talk, but not in the apartment.” She looked over her shoulder to see if Drew had come out of his room. In his present state of mind, who knew how he’d react to Quinn’s unexpected visit? She took the DVD, put it on top of the tall bookshelf next to the door where Axel couldn’t get it, then pushed Quinn out onto the landing. She followed, shutting the door behind her.

Axel, on the other side, snuffled at the crack under the door. Knowing it wouldn’t be long before he started to howl, Selena grabbed Quinn’s arm and propelled him down the stairs, no easy feat as he was a tall, solidly built man. On the way down, they met Maxine coming up.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Selena said before she had to make introductions.

Even so, in passing, Maxine gave Quinn the once-over as she did with all Selena’s dates, then flashed a thumbs-up.

As if.

How could Maxine see this man as anything but the thorn-in-her-side he’d become?

She pushed Quinn through the downstairs doorway onto the sidewalk. “What’s going on?” he asked.

The chill morning fog had yet to lift, and she wore nothing but a long-sleeved tee. To keep warm, she’d either have to jump up and down in front of Quinn like a woman gone mad or walk. “Let’s walk,” she said.

“Let me buy you a cup of coffee.”

“No!” She didn’t want to sit down anywhere with this guy. It would appear too normal. Dare she say too much like a first date? She wanted to hang onto the idea that he was, at most, a necessary evil. “A short walk’s all we’ll need.”

“If you say so.” Without asking, he took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

She didn’t want him to be thoughtful. And she certainly didn’t want him to smell good. As his jacket did. Of leather and sandalwood. She tried to shrink from the lining which still held the heat of his body.

“Is this a bad time?” he asked.

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” After Maxine’s appraisal, Selena was now all too conscious of Quinn’s looks. He was handsome in a brooding, tortured-hero sort of way. What the hell was going on? This guy had already reduced Axel to a tail-wagging zombie. Now he’d reduced her to a blithering idiot. She nearly ran into a busker setting up his boombox, laying down plywood and a tip jar, getting ready to dance for the Sunday morning brunch crowd.

Jack observed Selena trotting erratically beside him and wondered what had her so on edge. “I know I should have called,” he said, “but I thought the DVD was important. It’s a documentary on the psychology of dogs. It shows the natural order of things in canine packs. I thought if you watched it with your son—if he got the information in a nonthreatening way—maybe he’d be willing to see what I have to offer.”

When she didn’t speak, he added, “Axel isn’t a difficult case. We could take care of most of his issues with one session in the park. You saw how he responded just now in your apartment.”

“Ah, yes, about that…what planet did you say you were from?”

He felt a laugh begin in his chest. A strange sensation. “You need to watch the DVD, then I’ll answer all your questions at our next session.”

“You seem certain there will be a next session.”

He wasn’t certain. He was making it up as he went. To prolong the walk. With her. “It depends on Drew. Kids his age are usually fascinated with animals. Use the DVD to draw him into the process.”

“So now you’re an expert on kids as well as dogs. Do you have any of your own? Kids, that is.”

“No.” He didn’t want to get into the fact that he wasn’t sure he should have kids. He hadn’t had the best of father models. “Let’s just say I think both Drew and you really want what’s best for Axel…but neither of you wants to admit what you’ve been doing hasn’t worked out the way you’d like.”

“Are you always so sure of yourself?”

He could have asked her if she was always so defensive, but he didn’t want to risk driving her away. “I know dogs. And I’ve worked with enough dog owners to understand their reservations.”

“Their reservations until they discover the ‘truth’?” She stopped and faced him, defiance making her eyes sparkle. “The ‘truth’ according to Jack Quinn?”

Refusing to be baited, he stood his ground. “Watch the DVD. Then we’ll set up an appointment. I know Drew’s in school, but what’s your schedule like? Late afternoons or early evenings good for you?”

She turned and headed back in the direction they’d just come. “My work schedule’s flexible.”

“What do you do? If I know what my client does, I can often find a more relevant way to explain what I’m trying to accomplish.”

“I’m an installation artist.” She said it as if she didn’t expect him to understand what that was.

“Installations. Temporary works? Like those prayer cairns that appeared for a few weeks last summer on Baker Beach?”

She stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes wide. The fog had formed minute droplets in her hair and on her eyelashes, making him think of a land of fairies and sprites and impish spells. She took his breath away.

“D-did you have anything to do with them?” he asked, trying to regain his composure. “The cairns, I mean.”

“Yes.” For the first time she looked at him with real interest. “You knew what they were?”

“Sure. I’ve lived in Asia.” Though he’d been surprised to see the dozen or so piles of rocks at intervals along the San Francisco coast. They’d appeared as if by magic. Sticks anchored in the rocks bore pennants—scraps of cloth really—on which were written prayers, poems, quotations. There was nothing to explain them, but many people who saw them added to them. “I even tied on a few thoughts of my own. I liked the idea of good vibrations being swept across the entire country on the wind.”

Her expression was nothing short of dumbfounded.

“Although I work with animals,” he said, “I don’t live in a cave.”

For a fleeting moment, she seemed embarrassed. Or guilty. “Most people’s first thought when they hear installation art is dying a river green on St. Patrick’s day.”

“What do you tell people like that?”

“I tell them, no, it’s more like getting the sea lions to lounge in the sun on Pier 39,” she said, her tone biting.

“I would think that’s performance art,” he replied, unable to resist the urge to needle her a little.

“You know the difference?”

“It’s not a hard distinction to make. But I do have an aunt who’s an art historian. You need to cut most people more slack, though. It’s not as if your occupation’s an easy one to grasp at first.”

She stared hard at him as if she didn’t quite know how to take him.

“Do you have anything around the city now?” he asked.

“Actually, I do. The owner of Tryst, the new restaurant in SOMA, asked me for a sidewalk installation. He wanted someone dining inside a Plexiglas cubicle, twenty-four/seven. I told him with a name like Tryst, his restaurant deserved something more subtle. More mysterious.”

“So what did you come up with?”

“A visual novella, so to speak. I used the cubicle and put a table and two chairs inside.” As she spoke, an unabashed enthusiasm lit her features, clearing away all wariness. “The next day a glass of wine and a woman’s handbag appeared at one place. The day after that, a second glass of wine and a man’s umbrella hooked over the other chair. Yesterday some grainy photos appeared thrown on the table. Looked like a private eye might have taken them with a telephoto lens. A man and woman caught in the act. Tomorrow the butt of a revolver will appear from the woman’s handbag. The man’s chair will be tipped over. Tuesday police tape will appear around the cubicle. And by Wednesday, the whole thing will have disappeared.”

He laughed aloud.

“I am having fun with that one although I have to make the changes in the dead of night.”

“Alone?” He suddenly felt protective.

“No. There’s no shortage of art students in the area who help me on a project by project basis.” She suddenly grew distant, as if she’d shared too much. “So…now you know something about what I do, how do you propose to translate what you do into my language?” Challenge underlined her every word.

“I don’t know. Yet.” He took a chance with a smile. “You might be my toughest case.”

“Tougher than the spitz?”

“Yeah. I can’t muzzle you.”

Her mouth dropped open, then she walloped him on the arm as his brother had many times when they were kids fooling around. Amazingly, the tension between them eased.

“So you’ll watch the DVD with Drew?” he asked.

“We’ll see.” She started back toward her apartment.

What did it take to get her to promise—or even agree—to anything?

When he caught up to her, she seemed to make an effort to stay a half step ahead. Heaven forbid he should lead in any way. Headstrong woman. But there was a slight upturn to her mouth, a relaxation in her shoulders. He sensed she didn’t dislike him quite as much as she had before.

Progress.

As he followed her back to her apartment and his truck, he thought that, in the brief discussion of her work, he might have discovered a chink in that fortress wall she’d built around herself. The glimpse of the interior didn’t reveal dark neuroses or unclaimed baggage, but a clear, strong light that highlighted this woman’s need for self-expression and the pride she took in the results. He liked what he saw. A lot.

AFTER A DISCONCERTING Monday morning meeting with Drew’s teachers—apparently the mention of bullying got you a school interview as quickly as the mention of chest pains put you at the head of the line in the emergency room—Selena needed a dose of Margo’s Bistro. And lunch. She was starving. As was everyone else in SOMA it seemed. There wasn’t an empty table in the café. It was so busy Margo and Robert were trapped behind the counter, and their two servers were set on fast-forward.

Resigning herself to take-out, Selena suddenly heard her name called. “Over here!” Derrick waved from a corner table where he sat with Bailey. “Join us!”

“Oh, yes!” The comfort of friends.

Derrick was a contract lawyer and former single dad. He was the only male regular in their inner circle, but he’d been man enough to admit he didn’t have a clue about how to raise his two daughters. Until Bailey.

Having made her way through the crowded room, Selena plopped into the chair Derrick pulled out. “Why don’t we ever see you anymore?” he asked. Directness had always been one of Derrick’s many admirable traits.

“You’re seeing me right now. That’s one of the reasons I love Margo’s Bistro. It provides a public service in reuniting lost friends.”

“You know what I mean.” He and she had been friends before he hooked up with Bailey. “You haven’t come around our place since the wedding.”

“Geez, I thought I’d give you guys some privacy.” That wasn’t it, however. Things had changed. Derrick’s priorities—his focus—had changed, and rightfully so. Bailey and the girls were his world. Selena felt uncomfortable intruding. “So, how come you’re both here in the middle of a Monday?” she asked.

“Oh, I had errands in the city,” Bailey replied, a twinkle in her eyes, “and I thought I’d meet my hubby for…lunch.”

Selena didn’t know why they were at Margo’s. By the glow on both their faces, they looked as if they’d already had “lunch” at the Marriott.

A server appeared, a new one Selena didn’t recognize. The café was such a revolving door of part-time and temporary college help Margo should apply for intern program status. “The special of the day—”

“I’ll take it,” Selena cut in. “I’m ravenous and whatever Margo makes is terrific. How about you two?”

“We already ordered,” Derrick said as the server disappeared. “So why are you here?”

“I don’t want to take up your time with my kid problems.”

“Excuse me?” Bailey feigned disbelief. “When we’re at Margo’s the official language is Kid. Spill it.”

It was as if someone had popped the top of a shaken soft drink. Selena caught them up on Axel and Sam and Quinn and Drew and the appointment this morning.

“Middle school is cruel,” Derrick said. He should know. His oldest was at that between stage, too. “Is Drew being bullied? What did his teachers say?”

“They said the school has a zero-tolerance policy and a student-teacher-parent conflict resolution committee to handle problems. Drew’s never brought an issue before the committee, but his teachers say he isn’t very assertive. They say he hovers at the fringes of all the groups. He doesn’t seem to have found his niche yet. Lord knows the arts department saved me in school.”

“Football, here,” Derrick said.

“Academics for me,” Bailey added. “But that was high school. Drew’s not there yet.”

“No, and it’s tough being a seventh grader who looks like a sixth grader. Even his teachers noted he’s small for his age and quiet. That in itself has made him, on occasion, a target of teasing, some jostling. Some adolescent ostracism in the cafeteria. Not overt bullying, but unpleasant and potentially damaging nonetheless….” Her eyes welled up, stopping the flood of words.

Bailey reached across the table to lay her hand atop Selena’s.

“His teachers told me…” This wasn’t easy. This was her baby. “To…to try to get Drew to open up. I’ve tried. But he’s shutting me out. They suggested I get him into a group extracurricular activity to build his self-esteem and encourage social skills. How could I have raised a child with low self-esteem?”

“It’s the age,” Derrick said comfortingly. He grinned. “Plus San Francisco. I just read a great quote. Something about the city dwellers having an existential angst that comes from straddling a fault line.”

Selena laughed despite her pain. “You’re good friends,” she said, dabbing at her eyes with a napkin.

“Hey, we’ve been there,” Bailey said. “And with kids, you know we’ll be there again. And again and again and again. You’ll be there for us.”

Derrick turned serious. “Maybe working with this Quinn guy would be helpful. Male role model and all.”

“Oh, please.” Selena was just starting to feel better. She didn’t need to find out the light at the end of the tunnel was a locomotive. “He’s opinionated and unbending. In a word, insufferable. Not qualities conducive to letting Drew shine.”

“But if he knows what he’s doing with dogs, if he really can get Drew to control Axel, think how good Drew will feel. About himself.”

Selena looked squarely at Derrick. “What do you know about dogs?”

Derrick threw his hands in the air. “In a word? Zip. Call this guy.”

Realization dawned on Bailey’s face. “I think Drew’s not the only one with issues here. What really gives, Selena? Is this man, perhaps, attractive?”

“Only if you’re a dog. And don’t say it.”

“Come on. What does he look like?”

“I didn’t notice. His alpha-male personality obscured any other impression he could have made. I think he has a head—very large, I can tell you—two arms, two legs. More than that, who knows?”

“I don’t believe you.” Bailey nudged Derrick under the table. “I suspect you find him attractive, but I also think, if he’s as strong-willed as you say he is, you know you couldn’t wrap him around your little finger the way you do all the guys you choose to date. And that’s what bothers you.”

“I liked it better when we were focused on Drew.”

Their lunches arrived just in time to interrupt this nasty detour. “So, how are the girls?” Selena asked in an attempt to refocus the conversation.

“Great!” Derrick said, tucking into his lunch.

“We’ve discovered the trick to keeping a twelve-year-old girl out of trouble,” Bailey added. “Keep her so busy she barely has time to breathe. Leslie’s trying out for the premier softball league, and we’re encouraging it even though it has a more rigorous schedule than the regular league. Anything to burn off preteen angst. And Savannah’s suddenly crazy for junior ballroom dancing, can you believe it?”

“How do you juggle work, school—” Bailey had just recently enrolled in a local business college “—and the girls’ activities?” Selena asked.

Derrick grinned. “We tag-team.”

There it was again. That pairs thing.

“Hey, speaking of teams,” Derrick added, “did you hear Robert wants to get a Margo’s Bistro softball team going this season? There’s a sign-up sheet at the counter.”

Maybe she’d join. Sometimes the solution to life’s little aggravations was to whack something.

Driving the short distance home, Selena admitted to herself her friends had come close to being right on two counts. Drew probably would benefit from a mastery of Axel, who outweighed him. And, although she didn’t want to waste time and energy exploring this troubling fact beyond acknowledging its existence, a very, very, very—did she mention very?—tiny part of her did find Jack Quinn attractive. But the truth didn’t make it any easier to take the next step. To entrust her dog, let alone her son, to Quinn’s regimented course of action.

She’d told Sam and the Animal Control officer they’d consulted a dog behaviorist, and that had assuaged the greengrocer’s rage. But she didn’t tell him Quinn hadn’t actually worked with Axel. If Axel’s behavior didn’t improve, Sam and the rest of her neighbors weren’t going to stay mollified.

But, oh, how Quinn had looked at her yesterday. As they’d walked in the intimacy of the fog, he looked as if, at any moment, he could have eaten her up. And she’d felt strong enough to resist until he’d told her he’d seen one of her installations. And he’d gotten it. He knew what it was. He even knew how he was supposed to interact with it without being told. A man that perceptive could prove dangerous.

Dangerous even without the addition of a hard body, a luxurious head of dark wavy hair and chiseled features. Not that she’d noticed what he looked like.

She was prevented from dwelling on the unnerving Mr. Quinn by the necessity of searching out a parking space. Even though her Honda Element was compact enough for even the most challenging San Francisco parking situation, she had to drive around before finally finding a spot two blocks from her loft. It might be time—she’d have to massage the budget—to look for a garage to rent. As she passed Nikki’s tattoo parlor, she heard her name. Again. This time the tone was different. Trouble loomed, for sure.

Nikki came running out of her shop. “Babe, you know I love you, but we have a problem.”

Now what? Drew was in school. Axel was in the apartment.

The body artist moved to the curb where her vintage Cadillac was parked in a space nobody else in the neighborhood ever—ever—used if they knew what was good for them. Lovingly, Nikki ran a hand adorned with Celtic runes over the Caddy’s right fender. Selena thought she saw scratch marks. Her heart sank.

“Maxine came by your place,” Nikki said. “Axel escaped.”

“Oh, no!”

“Don’t worry, we caught him,” Nikki replied, still caressing the car’s custom baby blue finish. “But not before he did this.”

Selena tried to think if her car insurance had any clause that would remotely cover Axel damage.

“I talked to Sanchez up the street,” Nikki continued. “He thinks he can buff it out. And he owes me. But if it needs a paint job—”

“I’ll pay.” There went any prospect of a garage in the near future. “You know I’m good for it.”

“I know you are, babe.” Nikki was toughness itself, but her words weren’t unkind. “But you gotta see to that mutt. Before something happens to someone who doesn’t love you.”

“I will,” Selena promised for the second time in only four days.

She knew how critical the situation was, but did Drew? Enough to put Axel in Quinn’s hands? Perhaps the very guy who pushed both their buttons was the one who’d already provided a nonthreatening opening. The DVD he’d brought over yesterday. On dog behavior. The one she’d put on the top of the bookcase and promptly forgotten. Maybe it was time to break out the popcorn for an after-school special. She loved Axel’s exuberance. She just couldn’t afford it anymore.


CHAPTER FOUR

“DID SELENA MILANO call to make her third appointment?” Jack asked.

Andy looked up from the computer in the trailer office where he was doing his phone-and-scheduling turn in the rotation. “Not since the last time you asked. Fifteen minutes ago. Why does this particular woman make you nervous?”

Andy had to be pulling his leg, although it was hard to tell. Jack did extensive background checks on his employees and interns. He paid well. He created an excellent work environment. But he didn’t befriend the staff. Right from the start, however, Andy bent that unspoken rule, whether with personal comments or questions like the one he’d just asked. Outgoing himself, he didn’t seem content, leaving Jack to the sole company of animals.

“The only reason I’m asking,” Jack explained, “is that I want to make sure you tell her—if she calls—she gets an additional session. The way things worked out, the others barely amounted to one.”

“Are you counting Sunday when you made a special trip to deliver that DVD?”

“I thought if her son saw it—”

“Relax, boss.” Andy grinned. “I’m riding you. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

Apparently he did.

“If she calls,” Andy continued, “how about I let you handle it?”

“No. I have a workshop with the interns this morning. I’ll be busy.”

“Do you even think she’ll call? Her kid was pretty bent out of shape.”

“I don’t know.” He’d delivered the documentary the day before yesterday. Plenty of time for them to watch it. Plenty of time for her to respond.

“Why don’t you call her?”





Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Получить полную версию книги.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/amy-frazier/blame-it-on-the-dog-42470895/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.