The Chihuahua Affair: Best in Show Page 2

  Still grinning, Matt accepted it. “I feel like I’m going home with a newborn.”

  “He’s a precious baby, Mr. Johnson. Very much so.” Rebecca gave Patches a scratch behind the ears. “I’ll see you back here for class tomorrow night.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  As Matt stepped outside, Amanda’s ankle-boot heels clicked up the path. Black backpack slung over her shoulder, she wore blue jeans with a waist-length black coat.

  “Hey Mandy, this is Matt Johnson.”

  Amanda stopped, her chestnut ponytail swished as she examined him. “What’s he doing with Patches?”

  “Excuse me? Where are your manners?”

  Amanda pursed her lips and gave the poor man an evil glare. “Hi.”

  “Teenagers.” Rebecca gave him an apologetic grimace. “Matt just bought the dog and will be showing him.”

  “I thought I was going to show Patches.”

  Wishing Matt had left just a few minutes earlier so she could avoid a scene, Rebecca lowered her voice. “We’ll talk about it later.”

  “Great.” Without another word, Amanda stomped past them and headed inside the house.

  Rebecca’s cheeks burned. “I’m sorry for that. She can be quite charming when she wants to.”

  Patches squirmed in Matt’s arms. “No problem. You sure she’s going to be okay with this?”

  “Yes. Mandy shows her dog, Gordo, in junior showmanship. Half the time she’s off running around with her friends and I can’t count on her to be at the conformation ring. Really, it’s fine.” Rebecca gave him a reassuring smile.

  Once the door closed, Amanda, who had inherited her mother’s temper and her father’s hair, stormed downstairs. “I thought you told me I could show Patches.”

  Rebecca took a deep breath and willed herself to count to ten. “When we talked about it you said you’d be too busy with junior show and obedience.”

  Her pretty face was suddenly scrunched and angry red. “Yeah, well, I changed my mind. And what’s with that guy anyway?”

  A rock of tension clamped between her shoulder blades. “What do you mean?”

  “How’d you meet him?”

  “Ah…” Rebecca held up her palms. “He filled out a questionnaire on the web site and came by to buy a dog just like everyone else.”

  “Well, I don’t like him.”

  She took in a deep breath and looked to the ceiling. “Come on. You can tell by walking past someone that you don’t like him? Give me a break.”

  “So, he’s coming to classes?”

  “That’s the only way I’d let him have the dog.”

  Amanda folded her arms. “Don’t expect me to work with him.”

  “That’s just silly. He’s a client.” Rebecca watched her daughter charge upstairs. “Did you have a bad day?”

  “Not until I got home.” The door to Amanda’s bed slammed.

  Though she was seventeen, the girl still continued to suffer from the loss of her father. Regardless, her behavior was odd, even for a teenager. Amanda wasn’t serious about showing the dog.

  What the heck got into her?

  ***

  Rebecca hadn’t made it to the kitchen when her son burst through the door.

  “Mom, I’m home. What’s for dinner?”

  She watched Ryan throw his cleats and gear on the hardwood floor. A sophomore, he’d made the varsity football team. Ryan played wide receiver and was fast with hands like glue. The coach said he was going places and Rebecca hoped a full scholarship might be on the horizon.

  Rebecca glared at him. He sported her red hair and blue eyes. “Spaghetti. Pick up your gear and wash up before you come anywhere near the kitchen.”

  She shook her head. The boy was nearly sixteen and still had to be told to pick up his stuff every day.

  When will that end? Will he expect his wife to follow him around with a dust pan?

  After dinner, Rebecca headed back to her studio to exercise and feed the dogs like she always did. Aside from Amanda’s aging Chihuahua, Gordo, she had one male stud, Bruno, and three breeding bitches and usually handled four to five client dogs at any one time.

  Once her chores were complete, she sat in the nook just off her studio that she had designed as her office. The builders had recessed a six-foot portion of the wall which housed her desk and file cabinets. She’d placed a white wicker screen across the nook for privacy and to keep it hidden—very necessary, especially when her desk was piled with bills.

  She reviewed the contract Matt filled out. From his address, she noted that he lived in a posh part of Cherry Hill. She thought about calling him to check on the dog, but he had her card—he could call if he needed anything. She filed the contract with the others just as her phone beeped announcing a text.

  Thought I’d let you know Patches is doing fine. Matt

  Rebecca’s stomach flipped. With a quick snap of her fingers, she shook off her stupid response and typed a reply.

  Tks, was just wondering about him

  She pushed the off button on her phone and smiled. Matt was good-looking. Okay, good-looking didn’t quite nail it. Holy cow, his smile alone could take down a runway model. How could a guy like that go for her unruly red hair and lanky legs? He didn’t wear a ring, but that might not mean a thing. Aside from his smile and shiny eyes, he hadn’t appeared to be anything but friendly—maybe a little pushy. However, there was something behind his eyes—sadness, perhaps. Rebecca filed the contract and blocked Mr. Johnson from her mind. She had no room in her life for a man, and besides, she could never, ever endure the pain again.

  Pain. Rebecca squeezed her eyes shut. The familiar sour cloud of despair tightened its grip around her heart.

  Glancing at the calendar, her thoughts went blank. She sat with her mouth open and stared at the date, a tear escaped from her eye and streaked down to her chin, slashing on the desk. Two years. Tightness gripped her chest, her breathing labored.

  I’m still not over it. Doubt I’ll ever be. I’m destined to spend the rest of my life as the lonely widow taking care of dogs. That’s how I want it, anyway—quiet and safe.

  Before turning the light out, she checked her phone for another text. It hadn’t made a sound but a voice in her head compelled her to look. Rebecca chastised her wandering mind as she tapped on the envelope icon. Her heart stuttered.

  See you tomorrow - Matt J.

  Chapter Two

  This time the radio wasn’t blasting and Rebecca peeked out the window when she heard a car drive up twenty minutes before her class started. As soon as Matt hopped out of his SUV, she dropped the curtain and looked in the mirror. Thank God her hair decided to play nice today. She snatched up a dog brush and lifted one of the puppies to the grooming table.

  With a screech of hinges, he poked his head in the door of the studio and grinned. “Hey there.”

  Turning, Rebecca returned his smile while the brush flew out of her hand and crashed to the floor. “Oops.” Jeez, could she be any clumsier? She stooped to pick it up. “Hey. How’s Patches doing?”

  “He missed you last night, but I think he’s okay now. Not much for fetching the newspaper though.” Matt winked.

  Her stomach performed a somersault. “Ha.” She clamped her fingers around the brush handle and pointed it out back. “Just take him over to the shed. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  When the door closed, she smacked her hand to her forehead. Get a grip.

  Then her stomach squeezed—not a flip, but a respectable squeeze. At least he’d shown up with the dog, and a little early to boot.

  First hurdle accomplished.

  More cars drove in, their wheels crunching over her gravel lot. By the time Rebecca walked into the ring, she counted twenty dogs and handlers. “I’m going to split the class. Amanda, please take the large breeds to the next ring and I’ll work with the little dogs today.” That would allow more face time with each student and the little dogs wouldn’t be intimidated by the big ones. Rebecca
had worked with Patches some, but teaming him up with Matt would be a whole new ball game and they didn’t need the added challenge of a Great Dane slobbering all over a three-and-a-half pound puppy who was just being introduced to the ring.

  Her other motive? Keeping Matt separated from Amanda and giving Amanda added responsibility would ensure all remained copacetic in the Lee household.

  ***

  Matt watched his mirrored reflection across the room. He looked like a giant. Not that he wasn’t usually one of the tallest in a crowd, but tonight he was the only man in the small breed class. At six-three, he probably would have been more at home with the bigger dogs. There were a few men over there, but he wanted to do this with Patches. He’d already grown attached to the little fella. And besides, Rebecca’s card said something about only working with dogs under fifty pounds, so that was the size of dog for him.

  She intrigued him the moment he saw her. Her oval face with her deep indigo eyes registered a hint of a shock when she opened the door. Yes, there had been a spark, no matter how fleeting. He knew it. A single male of the species would never let that one pass. The problem was he didn’t want to feel that spark. He wanted a dog, man’s best friend—not a redhead.

  When he walked through her house, he could tell she had class. Everything coordinated—not only her sassy bottom tightly hugged by her jeans, but the décor reminded him of a showroom. The idea of training two nights a week would be a great opportunity to get to know her while avoiding the dating scene. A friend he could handle right now, but romance? Forget it.

  He paid close attention as Rebecca ran the group around the room, then inspected each dog on the table followed by a pattern, just like an American Kennel Club show on TV. The main difference Matt noticed was she took her time with each handler, giving personal instruction. She pointed out things, little nuances, then had the students watch their movement in concert with the dog’s in the mirrors across the floor. It looked like a ballet studio for canines.

  As he expected, Matt was the least experienced. Rebecca proved her critical eye, coaching him on every move from how to properly lift the dog to the table, stacking and presenting the dog to the judge, and how to use treats to keep Patches from being terrified while he stood on the edge of the table. The only thing Matt did right was the down-and-back. He ran that play over many times when they practiced in his living room, and Patches made it all the way back without stopping. He couldn’t help doing a fist pump like a kid winning his first race when Rebecca smiled and gave an approving nod. “I see you’ve been practicing.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Matt’s chest swelled until Rebecca changed the pattern to an L and Matt had something far more complicated to learn. Changing hands, presenting to the judge—don’t take your eye off the judge or the dog. How, exactly was he supposed to do that?

  Walking away from the judge in an L pattern wasn’t difficult, just straight down the side of the ring, a left-hand turn and across to the next corner. But he botched the turn every time—circling the dog inside and changing hands so that the dog would be on the judge’s side of the handler on the return. Patches fought walking on Matt’s right too. Thus far, Matt had only walked him on his left.

  Note to self: Have walking on both sides down before Thursday’s class.

  But he didn’t feel like a total moron. Several other handlers had difficulty convincing their dogs to lead on the right as well. Though Patches was the most resistant dog in the ring.

  Rebecca crossed the mat toward him. “Remember to entice your dog with a treat.”

  Matt tried to ignore the stutter of his heartbeat when he caught a whiff of her perfume as she bent down and reached for Patches’ lead—it smelled like sunshine. His mouth hung open while he watched her demonstrate how to hide a treat in your right hand and coax the dog forward. She bent down right in front of him.

  Mercy. Hips of perfection.

  The woman had no idea how sexy she was. “Once they get rewarded for walking on the right, it’s easier for them to change sides.” She barely looked at him, yet he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  He did everything she said. Or tried to.

  After class, Matt stayed behind, listening while Rebecca answered questions. Brushing past, Amanda shot him a disgusted look and rolled her eyes before she hurried to the house. He chuckled to himself. He’d met his share of prima donnas, and the daughter seemed to be at the top of the class.

  Hello, Miss Voldemort.

  But he didn’t care much about a spoilt teenager. He’d just paid three grand for a dog he was expected to show. Nothing like diving head-first into a sport he’d never tried before. He sidled toward the door, finally close enough to garner Rebecca’s attention. “So, how’d I do, coach?” He inhaled and nearly sighed. Oh yeah, eau de sunshine.

  “Not bad for your first class. You seem to pick up pretty quickly.” The woman smiled. A faint splay of freckles stretched across her pert nose and she blessed him with two adorable dimples. His knees turned to jelly—how had he missed those dimples yesterday?

  His head told his legs to move, but he just stood there holding the dog like a football. “Could I treat you to a cup of coffee?” The words slipped out before he had a chance to check himself.

  Bring it on, Voldemort.

  “Sorry.” She shrugged apologetically. “I’ve got to feed and exercise the dogs. Want to help with that? I think I can muster up a Diet Sprite or something. I try to stay away from caffeine after four.”

  ***

  As soon as Matt agreed to help with the chores, she felt like an idiot. Who stayed back to mop the floors with a mother of two? True, the kids used to lend a hand before Amanda’s boyfriend, cars, and football, but now they were too busy with their own lives to help out old Mom unless she pulled off the drill sergeant routine. Now she’d rather endure a filling in the dentist chair than listen to them complain.

  Matt picked up the mop like he’d been doing floors all his life.

  As they worked, Ryan barged into the studio wearing his letterman’s jacket. “Mom!” Eyeing Matt, he stopped short.

  Rebecca flung her rag in Matt’s direction. “This is Mr. Johnson, he’s taking conformation classes.”

  “Call me Matt.” He held out his hand. “I see you have a varsity football pin.”

  Ryan hesitated but shook the hand that was offered. “Yeah.”

  “What position do you play?”

  “Wide receiver.”

  “Cool. I used to play ball in college.”

  Ryan’s eyes widened. “You played college ball? Where?”

  “I was a quarterback at UCLA.”

  “No shit?” The needle registering Ryan’s interest level shot to maximum with his toothy grin.

  “Watch your mouth,” Rebecca snapped.

  Matt chuckled. “Yeah, sometimes I really miss it. I would have gone pro but I tore my ACL in the Rose Bowl. Broke my heart.”

  Ryan’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Get-the-hell-out. You played in the Goddamned Rose Bowl?”

  Rebecca cringed. “Ryan.”

  Matt dunked his mop in the bucket. “Hey, I’m going to be taking classes with your mom on Tuesday and Thursday nights, I could come early and run through some plays if you want.”

  Ryan’s excitement throttled back with a questioning glance toward Mom. “Er, yeah, I guess.”

  “How about Thursday?” Once they agreed, Ryan went back into the house, forgetting whatever he had come out there for.

  Rebecca pulled a chocolate Chihuahua out of a kennel cage and changed her bedding. “That’s awful nice of you to offer to work with Ryan, but I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

  Matt ran the mop under the dog bath. “Are you kidding? I’d love to work with him, plus I could use the exercise.”

  Chores done, Rebecca led Matt to the kitchen. The most important room in the house. With stainless steel Jenn-Air appliances, oatmeal marble countertops, oak cabinetry with a coordinating tile floor, she was alway
s comfortable having a guest there. She poured two Diet Sprites over ice. “Pull up a stool.”

  “So, where is Mr. Lee, if you don’t mind my prying?” Matt asked that familiar question.

  “Henry was killed in a car accident two years ago.” She preferred to just get it out in the open. But the news had a way of putting a damper on the conversation.

  Matt grimaced and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry.”

  Heat burned through Rebecca’s cheeks while she tried to think of something witty to say. After an uncomfortable pause. Matt took a seat and stirred on his ice cubes.

  Though she knew the answer, she opted for small talk. “What’s your story? You said you just moved—where’re you from?”

  He took a sip. “My partner and I have a successful management consulting business in California. We decided to open an office out here and I chose South Jersey because it’s close to so many major cities—Philadelphia, Baltimore, New York. Did you know that one-third of the population in the United States lives within three-hundred miles?”

  “Really? I’ve lived here for so long I didn’t realize. Do you have any clients out here?”

  “One. We were successful implementing lean manufacturing at a national plastics company and they asked us to implement the program in their plant in Pennsauken. That’s another reason why I settled in Cherry Hill. I knew I had work close by and it’s a good location for drumming up more business.”

  “So you just pulled up roots and moved all the way across the country?”

  Matt looked in his glass and swirled the Sprite. “Yeah, something like that.”

  “How about your family?”

  “Mom and Dad are back in Southern California, but they’re only a five-hour flight away.”

  “You’re not married?”

  For a split second, a frown etched the corners of his mouth. “Nope, never have been.”

  “Hmm.” By the way he concentrated on his ice cubes, Rebecca sensed the marriage question bothered him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

  “I’m fine.” Another grueling silence passed while Matt downed his drink. His profile chiseled, a flat forehead sloped to a slightly bent nose. He grinned and faced her, his square jaw incredibly masculine. “Your house is perfect. Did you decorate it yourself?”