The Moment of Truth

He hadn’t brought paper towels, either. Or cleaning supplies. And he’d found that while toilet paper was good enough for human waste, it didn’t stand up to the messes his new housemate made.

An early-morning trip to the big-box store outside of town had taken care of the basics. He’d already used up a full roll of paper towels. Filled two trash bags with smelly and destroyed goods and hadn’t made his bed.

Or showered, either, for that matter. There’d been the little issue of soap. He’d had the toiletry bag he’d used on the road, the one he always traveled with and that he’d kept stocked with the supplies his housekeeper bought for him. He’d just never had to stop and think about such things as soap before. It was embarrassing to realize that he was a grown man who’d never done a thing to take care of himself. Including buying a bar of soap.

He definitely wasn’t ready for company, but neither could he afford to turn away the help from Pretty Pet Woman, who was giving up her Saturday to help him. Remembering her homework comment, he wondered if she was a student at the university. She’d seemed older to him.

He heard her car in the driveway and watched through his uncurtained front window as she climbed out, hooked a big brown satchel on her shoulder and shut the door of the old Mazda behind her. Mazdas weren’t bad cars. He’d never ridden in one but he’d read reviews. Their engines were decent.

The woman, Dana, looked even better this morning. Her jeans weren’t designer, by any means, but they fit her snugly and accentuated her long legs. Josh wasn’t swearing off women. But he’d sworn off commitment—relationships where someone was going to count on him. He wasn’t going to risk letting someone else down.

“Where’s Little Guy?” she asked after he let her into the modest, three-bedroom, two-bathroom home he’d rented on a month-to-month basis until he could find something he could afford to purchase.

She didn’t seem to notice the house. Or him, either, for which he was thankful, considering the day-old jeans...and beard...he was sporting.

He wouldn’t have been caught dead looking like this outside his bedroom in Boston.

“He’s back here,” he said, leading the way to the spare bathroom that was now completely taken up by the kennel.

As soon as they got close, the puppy started to howl again, saving Josh from the need to make conversation with the woman whose plain black sweater hugged her breasts. He was pissed at himself for noticing.

Maybe once the dog was settled he’d head into Phoenix for the night, find a club and a willing woman. Even without the Redmond money backing him, he shouldn’t have any trouble finding someone to hook up with. “Oh...my...”

Dana Harris was kneeling in front of the kennel door, unlatching the hooked closure. The puppy—drenched in pee again, judging by the whiff of air Josh caught as the demon hurled itself at Dana’s chest—squealed with delight when he saw his visitor.

And then Josh caught a glimpse inside the bathroom. The dog had done a number two in his kennel again. How could any being excrete waste so many times in one day? And he’d also reached through the bars to find the roll of toilet paper Josh had erringly left on the floor beside the kennel. It was smeared with puppy doo, ripped up into little pieces and now...scraps of it were everywhere those flailing, awkward paws could put it.

“Hey, Little Guy, what’ve you got going on here?” Dana asked with a voice he wouldn’t mind hearing directed at him. The woman, who was obviously a lot more comfortable around animals than Josh was, held the squirming ball of fur up and away from her as she lifted him from the kennel to the sink in one swift arc.

“I’ll need a towel, some soap and a glass if you have one,” she said over her shoulder, already running water lightly into the basin as the dog did everything he could to claw himself away from the water and up her shirt. Somehow she managed to hold on to him—and keep him at bay.

Josh didn’t need a second invitation to vacate the scene of the disaster. Grabbing a couple of rolls of paper towels, a bottle of dog shampoo and his travel coffee mug, he made his way back to the bathroom. Josh wasn’t a religious man, but he prayed, anyway, all the way back to the bathroom where he could hear his rescuer in a continuous monologue with his new housemate.

He prayed, not for freedom from the demon, but for the dog’s very quick acclimation to the right way to live in a home. Josh was on a personal mission to think of others, to be aware of their needs and put them before his own, so the dog was staying.

He was going to keep it alive and well if it killed him.

Which it might.

Hurrying back into the bathroom with his sleeves rolled up and with every intention of getting dirty, he found the puppy soaking docilely in the sink, a slightly sad and bedraggled-looking thing, shivering as Dana held him in place.

And for the first time since he’d rolled into Shelter Valley, Josh felt relief.

CHAPTER SIX

WHERE TO BEGIN?

Holding a wet and subdued but very clean Little Guy wrapped in paper towels in her arms, Dana stood in the hallway of the ranch-style home waiting while Josh Redmond cleaned up his spare bathroom. The man was a sorry case when it came to dog ownership. And almost equally inept at cleaning.

The kennel and floor he did on his hands and knees. Then he used the same sponge on the sink that he’d used on the floor and the kennel—and used up the rest of the roll of paper towels, too.

He was trying.

And for that, she was okay with leaving the puppy in his care.

Once they’d had a talk.

She might only be a pet-placement volunteer, but she’d been volunteering in the veterinary clinic at home in Richmond since she was old enough to drive herself to and from the facility, and Cassie and Zack were depending on her to make decisions regarding the animals’ well-being and to report back to them if she thought there was a problem.

Knowing Little Guy as well as she did, she suggested that they have their first discussion outside, where the puppy could roam at will and not destroy anything.

Josh Redmond had no patio furniture. Or anything else in the six-foot-high block-fenced backyard with dirt and a few weeds for landscaping. Warm enough in her sweater, as long as she stayed in the sunshine, Dana stood on the small cement patio and watched the puppy as she said, “First problem, the kennel’s too big.”

Little Guy tripped over his front paws and rolled onto his head.

“I was told he was going to be a minimum of fifty pounds.”

“Eventually, yes. In the meantime, you can borrow kennels from the vet’s. It’s part of the service we offer the Love To Go Around adoptive families. His kennel should only be big enough for him to turn around in. It’ll help him feel more secure and dogs typically don’t go to the bathroom where they sleep, so if the kennel is only big enough for him to sleep in, chances are he won’t go to the bathroom until you come get him. And then, after he relieves himself outside, you praise him with great gusto so he’ll know he pleased you. That’s his goal in life, to please you.”

She was rambling. Sticking to what she knew best so she didn’t feel self-conscious and stupid. Dana had dated in high school. And had one serious boyfriend before Daniel had hooked her up with Keith, the troubled son of Daniel’s best friend, and made it almost impossible for her to keep peace in the family unless she agreed to date him.

But this was different. Josh Redmond was beyond gorgeous. And she was alone in his house with him.

“Did you keep him in a kennel during the couple of days you had him?” Josh asked.

“No, I didn’t have one. I locked him in the bathroom the first night. For about an hour.”

“And then what?” He quirked an eyebrow as he stood halfway across the patio, hands in his pockets, watching her.

The puppy bounded across the yard, falling as he went.

“I brought him into bed with me.”

“To pee on your sheets? And mattress?”

“He didn’t pee. But if you’re worried that he might, you could put down a puppy pad.”

“What if he moves off from it?”

“If you’re a light sleeper like me, you’ll wake up and put him back on it.”

He studied her as if she was from another planet. “You’ve done this with a puppy before?”

“Several of them. My mom raises poodles, breeds them and sells them all over the country. My sisters were never really interested in helping, but I was.”

“Are they around here? Your family?”

He seemed genuinely interested, but she wasn’t. Not in having this conversation with him. Or thinking about how second rate she always felt when she thought of her family. So she shook her head and said, “It also helps, if you’re going to keep him in a kennel, to have some kind of rhythmic noise beside him. Like an old-fashioned alarm clock. Or maybe some classical music playing softly.”

The puppy had his nose pressed into a weed.

“Have you ever had a dog keep you up all night?”

It sounded, at the moment, like a full night’s rest would be more valuable to him than winning the lottery. And he’d only had the puppy one night!

What was the guy going to do if he ever got married and had kids?

Thinking of him as a father—and what he’d have to do to get to that point—brought her thoughts to a screeching halt.

“Mom gave me a puppy for my thirteenth birthday—and a little kennel, too—so that I could keep her in my room. She wouldn’t be quiet in the kennel. And she wouldn’t lie down on the pads and go to sleep, either. I was afraid she was going to be whisked away from me and back out to the climate-controlled kennels Mom had in the backyard so I moved the little kennel onto my bed. The puppy was only four pounds so the kennel didn’t take up much room. I threaded my fingers through the bars of the kennel and the puppy curled up next to them and went to sleep. We slept like that for about a month, until she was house-trained, and for the rest of her life she slept curled up by my side every single night.”

He shook his head, as though he’d been transported to a very strange and unknown land.

She wondered about him again. About where he’d come from. And why someone as obviously educated and gorgeous as he was had landed in a place as out of the way as Shelter Valley.

“For the rest of her life? She died?”

“Yeah, the life expectancy of a toy poodle is anywhere from twelve to fifteen years, though we had one live to be eighteen. My little girl made it to twelve and died of congenital heart failure.”

“You got her for your thirteenth birthday?”

“Yeah.”

“So how old are you?”

“Twenty-five.”

“Then you just lost her?”

“This past summer. Right about the time I got the Montford scholarship.”

He asked her about the scholarship. She told him the same thing she’d told Cassie Tate Montford. And then she said, “We’ve been out here fifteen minutes.”

“About that.”

“Has your puppy gone to the bathroom?”

He looked at Little Guy. It was the first time Dana had seen him glance the puppy’s way.

“I... He’s contained and amusing himself. I didn’t think...I don’t know—has he gone to the bathroom?”

“Probably not because he hasn’t had anything to eat or drink since he made such a mess inside. But the first rule of house-training a puppy is that you watch him every second he’s out in the yard and praise him immediately every single time he does his business. Either variety. And conversely, from this point forward, every single time he goes in the house, even if you don’t think it’s his fault, like maybe you forgot to put him out, or he’d been alone too long, you have to scold him. The sooner he figures out that you’re not pleased whenever he goes in the house and that you are pleased when he goes outside, the sooner he’ll start to hold his business until you put him outside.”

She was rambling again. The guy was going to think she was a big geek.

And maybe she was. Mostly she was okay with that. So why not now? It wasn’t like this Josh Redmond was anyone special.

“And another thing,” she added, because she felt awkward, standing there gawking at him, “you need to schedule an appointment with Cassie or Zack to have him neutered.”

“Neutered...”

“Yeah, it’s free when you adopt a pet, and because he’s a boy, you want to have it done as soon as it’s safe to do so.”

“You have something against boys?”

“Of course not.” She concentrated on the dog, not the man. “He squats when he pees.” She forced the words past the dryness in her throat. “Mature male dogs, if they aren’t neutered early, lift their leg to pee. It’s a territorial marking thing. You don’t want that. Once a male starts spraying you can have a hard time keeping him from marking his territory inside as well as out.”

“I’ll call the clinic Monday morning and make an appointment to have him neutered.”

“We don’t know how old he is for sure, but he can be neutered at eight weeks so they should be able to do it.”

She talked to him about feeding schedules and about establishing who was the boss from the onset.

The puppy went to the bathroom. Dana told Josh to praise him. And grinned when he did so. There was something very endearing about such a perfect specimen of manhood bending over and congratulating ten pounds of matted fur on the little pile he’d just dropped. If there was a self-conscious bone in Josh Redmond’s body, he sure didn’t seem aware of its existence.

Maybe that was what endeared him to her more than anything else.

And when, another couple of minutes later, the puppy peed, Josh congratulated him again and they moved back into the house. He invited her to sit at his kitchen table. He offered her some iced tea and she accepted. “Here,” he said, drawing her attention to the can he held out to her.

“Oh, sorry,” she said, feeling the heat rise up to her cheeks. She’d been busy staring at the arsenal of cleaning supplies on the kitchen table. “It’s just—” she glanced back at the table “—laundry detergent, hand soap, liquid body soap, dish soap, dishwasher soap, bar soap, car wash, carpet detergent, upholstery cleaner...” They were all lined up, obviously brand-new, two brands of every single item.

“I...am on a mission to try the top two brands of each to find out which I like best,” he said.

She had the distinct feeling that he was making up every word as he went along. Someone who liked to clean also had brand preferences for every job.

But it wasn’t her business.

“Have you picked a name for him?” she asked instead, pointing to the puppy who was sound asleep with his head flopped against Josh’s chest.

He shook his head. “It didn’t occur to me.”

“The quickest way to teach him to come when he’s called is to call him only by one name, and to say that name every single time you speak to him. When you feed him, say his name and then the word eat, and put his food down. He’ll learn what eat means, too.”

“You called him Little Guy.”

“Because he’s male and little and I specifically was not naming him as I knew I wasn’t going to be able to keep him.”

“Did you want to?”

He was getting personal again. This wasn’t about her. Though...she kind of wanted it to be.

And while Dana was all about living her new life, about believing that she was just as good as everyone else, she wasn’t so far along on her journey that she was going to pursue the guy who had to be the hottest bachelor in town.

“I didn’t think I wanted another puppy, not anytime soon. I’ve got a kitten now. And my duplex is small. But after having Little Guy around for a couple of days...yeah, I’d like another puppy. A smaller one, though.”

“You should get one, then.”

Maybe. “Anyway, I recommend naming him. Soon.”

“I like Little Guy. It’s what he is.”

“He’s going to be huge.”

“So...all the more reason to remind him that no matter how big he gets, I’ll still be bigger, right?”

He grinned. She melted.

And got the hell out of there.

CHAPTER SEVEN

JOSH DIDN’T HAVE to wait until Monday to speak with Cassie Montford. His cell phone rang shortly after Dana Harris left Saturday, and he recognized the veterinarian’s number.

“Josh? This is Cassie Montford.”

Montford. Not Tate. She was on family business. He stiffened. “I assume you spoke with your husband?” he said, the Redmond in him coming out as he prepared to take control of the situation. To take control and not give off an iota of the emotion roiling around inside him. Getting his own way was all that mattered.

He didn’t want to leave town. Didn’t have any idea where he’d go.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get back to you,” the older woman said. “I spoke with Sam last night but by the time we were alone and could talk it was too late to call you back. And I just got out of surgery now—a dog was hit by a car outside of town this morning....”

It had been less than twenty-four hours. Josh had expected their decision to take at least through the weekend. In Boston, it would have. The pros and cons of upholding a family secret would have been weighed very seriously.

“Sam and I will keep your secret for as long as we can without anyone being hurt,” Cassie said, her voice sounding even warmer than it had the day before at her office.

More personal.

“Sam has a request, though, Josh. He really wants to meet you.”

Ready to respond with an unequivocal no, until he was a little more certain he could trust himself, Josh didn’t get the chance.

“I’ve managed to rein him in for now, with a threat to tell his parents some things about his past that he doesn’t want them to know.”

It sounded like a stunt any number of wives in his Boston circle might have pulled. It was all about keeping up appearances.

“Not that I’d carry through with the threat, which he knows, but he got the point, anyway. Sometimes people need some space to work through their issues on their own.”

He swallowed. “I... Thank you,” he said.

He wanted to say more. To ask more. To find out more about Sam Montford’s life. About the secrets that he didn’t want his parents to know...the fodder that gave his wife some leverage.

But he was determined to stick with his promise.

He asked about Little Guy’s surgery, set a date for the week after Thanksgiving and started to ring off.

“Josh?”

He put the cell phone back to his ear. “Yes?”

“I can’t promise that Sam will wait forever,” she said. “My husband has a bit of a wild streak. When it gets ahold of him, he’s apt to do something off the wall.”

“Has he had run-ins with the law?” he asked. He couldn’t imagine his mother being gung ho about claiming her Arizona family if he had.

“Absolutely not. Sam’s never been in trouble with the law. Have you?”

Too late he saw what his question had implied. He quickly said, “No. I don’t have a criminal record.” It was the truth. He’d never even received a speeding ticket.

Hard to believe, when a woman had lost her life because of his carelessness. He’d walked away without paying any price at all.

“Sam’s just a bit of a social rogue,” Cassie said. “He says what he thinks, and when he believes in something he goes after it, regardless of what it costs him. He’s just found out he has a new cousin in town. And having grown up as the only son of the town’s founding family, he’s anxious to make your acquaintance. All I’m saying is don’t be surprised if you come home some night and find him drinking a beer on your back porch.”

Something Josh might have done if the situation were reversed...

Stop. He implored silently. This wasn’t going to work if he got in with the family. He’d fall back on his old ways. Become someone he hated.

“Also, just so you know, there’s another cousin here in town. Ben Sanders. He’s fairly new to the family, as well, but biologically, he’s a Montford. Ben’s married to Tory and they have two daughters.”

Did Cassie and Sam have children, too? There hadn’t been children in their family since he’d grown up...

And he didn’t want to know any of this.

“One other thing,” he said, realizing that he’d almost hung up without taking care of the thing he needed most from her. “Will you write to my mother? Let her know that all is well?”

He hated being beholden to anyone. For anything. To his way of thinking, if he needed something done, he paid someone to do it. Except he couldn’t afford that anymore.

“Is she on email?” Cassie asked.

“Yes.” He waited while Cassie retrieved a pen and took down his mother’s email address.

“So she knows you’re here already?”

“Of course. She knows where I am 24/7,” he said. “She always has. It’s about the only thing she’s ever asked of me.”

At least, the only thing she’d asked that he’d heard and complied with.

He wasn’t ready to know about all the times he hadn’t listened, wasn’t ready to be accountable for all the hurt he must have caused his mother over the years.

But he was getting there. One day at a time.

* * *

LORI WAS BACK Sunday afternoon, but only to drop off a catnip toy she’d bought for Kari, a thank-you to Dana for letting her spend the night twice that week.

She also let her know that she’d be in town for Thanksgiving and would love to help cook if Dana’s dinner offer still stood.

Sensing that the girl’s feelings were hurt by her father’s choice to go hunting instead of spending the holidays with her, Dana invited Lori in on the pretense of planning the menu for the holiday. She was planning to cook enough food for twenty people to come and go throughout the day. If she had lots of leftovers, all the better. She just didn’t want to run out.

What she hadn’t expected, while she and Lori were sitting at the kitchen table just before dark, was for the other woman to ask about Josh.

“Did you invite Little Guy’s new owner?” Lori asked, tapping a finger on the edge of the tablet she’d been using to keep their list.

“No.” She hadn’t even thought about it. And she should have. She’d planned to invite everyone she came in contact with that she knew was alone. Or even might be alone.

“I thought you said he’s new to town. And lives alone.”

“Yeah, he is. And he does.”

“Did you not invite him because he’s not a student like us?”

“He’s not much older than I am. Three or four years, maybe.”

She’d seen a soiled Harvard shirt thrown on top of the washer when she’d taken her empty tea can into the laundry room to throw it away. Emblazed on it was a year four years prior to what hers would have been had she gone to college straight out of high school.

She’d asked him if Harvard was his alma mater.

And as he’d answered in the affirmative, he’d sounded slightly lost again.

“I think he went to college on scholarship,” she said now, saying out loud what she’d thought at the time. His reaction to having been a student at Harvard had been odd. It had reminded her of how she’d felt working at the furniture store, bearing the same last name as the one written on the marquee out front, but not being an heir to the business.

She was a Harris, but the name had been given to her, not earned consequence of biology.

After she and Daniel had found out about the lie her mother had told them both about Dana’s parentage, Dana had not only been taken out of Daniel’s will, but shuffled to the back corner of the family.

She’d felt like a modern-day Cinderella. And Josh Redmond seemed to have the same reaction when asked about his alma mater.

“He’s a nice guy,” she told Lori, remembering how Josh had gotten down on the floor to clean up his dog’s mess without a moment’s hesitation. “I was afraid, when I saw the state his bathroom was in, and this after he’d already lost a night’s sleep, that he was going to tell me to take Little Guy back. But he never even hinted at wanting to get rid of him.”