The Girl of His Dreams Page 3

  “I don’t want to love like he did,” Patrick said softly. He picked up the pot and began scrubbing it. “It was tragic.”

  “It’s wonderful and romantic. That’s what I want.”

  Patrick shook his head. “Too much pain. I respect and admire my dad, but I think he was weak. He could have recovered. He chose not to. I don’t want any emotion controlling me that much.”

  Kayla looked at him. “You might not get a choice in the matter.”

  “There’s always a choice.”

  She eyed him speculatively. “You need a good woman to snap you out of this funk.”

  “I’m not in a funk.”

  She ignored him. “A woman. But what kind?” Her brow furrowed. “Someone who likes animals and is patient. Someone you can really talk to.” She tilted her head toward the living room. “Someone who won’t mind the fact that half your walls are being stripped of wallpaper and the other half need to be.”

  “A redhead,” he put in.

  Her sniff was the only reply. “Pretty, smart, funny,” she went on. “In short, me!”

  Patrick was pleased he was only washing a pot, because her words caused him to let go and the metal container clattered into the sink.

  He stared at her. She met his gaze and grinned.

  “Well?” she asked. “Are you speechless?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I adore being in control.” She batted her lashes.

  “Kayla, I—” He paused, not sure what to say.

  “We’d be perfect together. We get along, we like each other. I’m charming, you’re sensible.”

  He sensed she was teasing him, but he couldn’t respond. It was as if he couldn’t catch his breath. He looked at her, trying to figure out her game. There had to be one. Him and Kayla? After all this time? No way.

  But once the seed was planted, he realized it wasn’t as shocking as he’d first thought. Kayla and him? Was it possible she’d been harboring some romantic feelings for him? He didn’t think so. Surely he would have sensed something.

  “We’re friends,” he said at last.

  “Agreed. But we do have enough in common to be a great couple.”

  Her expression was happy, her eyes were bright with humor. She didn’t look lovesick. There was a piece missing. There had to be.

  “We want different things in life,” he said, deciding to play along and see where she was going. “You want to travel, I want to settle in one place.”

  “We share the same values,” she said. “We care about each other. We have mutual respect. Isn’t that important?”

  It was, but he didn’t want to answer her. “What are you getting at?” he asked.

  She gave an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, here’s the deal. I think you really do need to be with a woman, and I have one in mind.”

  “You want to set me up?”

  “Don’t sound like you’re getting vaccinated against some tropical disease. You’ll adore her. I promise.”

  “I’ve heard that before.”

  He reached for the pot and rinsed it off. She wasn’t declaring undying love, she just wanted to set him up. Good, he told himself, and ignored the tiniest flicker of disappointment. Better for both of them. They were great friends, but they would never make it as a couple. He couldn’t imagine caring for her that way.

  Kayla jumped off the counter and touched his arm. “I’m not kidding. You’ll adore her. And here’s the best part. She looks just like me.”

  He opened his mouth, but she gave him a warning look. “Don’t even think about saying anything tacky, Patrick. I’m holding a wet towel, and I’ll make you pay.”

  He winked. “Whip me, beat me, tie me up—”

  “Patrick!” She cut him off with a shriek. “Be serious. I’m going to call my sister Elissa and invite her out for a weekend. You guys can meet. She might be the woman of your dreams.”

  He sobered quickly. He didn’t want to meet the woman of his dreams. He’d given up on dreams of love a long time ago. The price was too high.

  Kayla waited, shifting her weight from foot to foot. She was obviously impatient to have him approve of her plan. He had no interest in meeting her sister, but he wouldn’t hurt her feelings by telling her that. She would enjoy having one of her sisters spend the weekend with her. He could meet the lady, talk politely, then be on his way. Elissa’s visit wouldn’t change anything.

  “Do your worst, kid,” he said.

  She gave him a quick hug. “You’re going to love her,” she said. “I promise.”

  “That’s what you told me about sushi.”

  “Elissa is much nicer than sushi.”

  “She’d better be.”

  “Have I ever been wrong?” she asked, then wrinkled her nose. “Okay, don’t answer that. But I’m not wrong this time. You’ll see.”

  Chapter Three

  ”Quelle heure est-il?” the voice on the tape intoned.

  “Kell err a teal,” Kayla repeated dutifully over the yapping of dogs in the kennels. Her alcove of an office was right off the boarding area, which normally didn’t bother her, but today she was trying to learn French.

  “You guys aren’t helping me,” she called over her shoulder. “I’m trying to ask the time.” The volume of the barking increased. She leaned closer to her small tape recorder. “Apple what? Oh, forget it.” She pushed the Off button. “I’ll listen to it tonight.”

  She rose to her feet and headed into the kennels. At the sight of her, most of the dogs quieted, with whimpers of pleasure replacing the barking. Kayla paused and greeted them all. She took a few extra minutes with the dogs being boarded. Although pets had a good time going on walks and playing with other residents, they missed their families. Kayla stepped into a kennel and knelt in front of a large, gentle golden Labrador. Big brown eyes met hers but the dog didn’t raise his head from where it rested on his paws.

  “Come on, Sammy. Don’t be sad. They’re coming back today.”

  Sammy’s expression didn’t change. Kayla glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was around. The staff would tease her unmercifully if they knew what she was about to do.

  Easing against the concrete wall of the kennel, she sat on the floor. To her left was a doggie door that lead to a twenty-by-eight foot outdoor area. Each dog had its own run. On her right was a raised, padded platform that served as a bed. Sammy’s toys were scattered around, although he hadn’t played with them much.

  She stretched her legs out in front of her and patted her lap. The large dog slowly lumbered to his feet. He moved closer, then cautiously stepped onto her thighs. Kayla tried not to wince as the sixty-five-pound animal sat on her lap and leaned heavily against her chest. She wrapped her arms around Sammy and began to softly sing about the purchase price of a dog in a store display.

  She continued the song, rocking Sammy, rubbing his back and head. He sighed heavily. After a few minutes, his tail started thumping against the ground. By the time she’d completed the song for the fourth time, he’d shifted off her and picked up one of his chew toys.

  They wrestled with the toys for a while. A dog in the next kennel barked, challenging Sammy to a race. The Labrador took off out the doggie door, racing to the back fence. Kayla smiled as she let herself out.

  “Mission accomplished,” she said as she walked toward the exit. She checked bowls as she went, making sure they all had water. Although the kennel wasn’t her responsibility, she didn’t mind looking things over when she was back here.

  At the door, she paused and counted empty kennels. Just three. Only about half the residents were paying boarders. The rest of the dogs either came with her to Sunshine Village or were strays.

  A familiar feeling of guilt tightened in her chest. Word had gotten out that Kayla took in strays, so there was a steady stream of them. Placement wasn’t too difficult, although sometimes it took a while. Unwanted dogs were treated, fed, housed, all for free. Patrick never complained, never hinted that the strays cost h
im a lot of money, not just for their food and medicine, but in what he could be making if he was able to take in more paying boarders.

  Patrick understood why she cared about the strays. He understood everything. There was a strength about Patrick. Solid—that was how she would describe him.

  She pulled the door open and found the object of her thoughts standing in her alcove.

  She laughed. “Patrick. I was just standing in the kennel thinking about how wonderful you are. And here I could have told you to your face.”

  He didn’t return her smile. His expression was grim.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Is there an emergency?”

  “A lady has brought in a stray,” he said curtly. “Is there room in the kennel?”

  She nodded. Patrick only got angry about strays if they’d been mistreated. “How bad?”

  He shrugged. “I haven’t examined her yet. Skinny, scared. About what you’d expect. Everyone else is tied up. Can you help me with the examination?”

  “Sure.”

  She followed him to the waiting room.

  A small woman with pale skin and short, graying hair sat on the bench against the wall. Her face was drawn, and dark shadows had taken up permanent residence under hei eyes. Next to her was a little mixed-breed dog. Shaggy hair, big eyes. A shudder rippled through the dog every few seconds. Kayla had a bad feeling that when she picked the animal up she would be able to feel all its ribs.

  “Mrs. Francis?” Patrick asked.

  The woman nodded.

  “I’m Dr. Patrick Walcott. This is Kayla.” He settled next to the woman and gestured for Kayla to sit by the dog. Patrick pulled a pen out of his lab coat and adjusted his clipboard. “Tell me about the dog.”

  “Don’t know much,” Mrs. Francis said, and shrugged. “Been around the neighborhood a year, maybe two. Sweet dog. Gentle, loves kids. Never bitten anyone, not that some of the boys in the neighborhood haven’t tried her patience. I’ve rescued her a time or two myself.” Mrs. Francis twisted her hands together.

  Patrick’s voice was low and soothing. “That’s very good of you. Most people don’t bother.”

  The older woman smiled. “I like animals.”

  “When was she abandoned?”

  “I can’t rightly say. Been close to a month, I think. Her owners, I never knew them well, just moved. Left her behind.”

  “You don’t think she got left behind by accident?”

  Mrs. Francis’s mouth twisted down. “I heard things about her family, and they weren’t nice. They didn’t forget her.” She placed her hand on the dog’s back, stroking it. “I wanted to keep her myself, but it didn’t work out.” Color crept onto her cheeks. “Sometimes there’s barely enough food for my children, but I’ve been making it work. Then I got a promotion. I work full-time now. There’s going to be more money for all of us, but I won’t be home during the day. I can’t leave her out in the yard. Not with those boys around. It’s not safe. So I hoped if I brought her here you could find a place for her with some nice people.”

  Patrick asked a few more questions and made notes. Kayla had to swallow the lump in her throat. She reached out her hand and let the little dog sniff her fingers. A fuzzy tail thumped against the plastic cushions on the bench.

  “Pretty girl,” Kayla said quietly, and received a pleading look from big, sad eyes.

  “Does she have a name?” Patrick asked.

  “Not that I know of. My middle girl says she looks like that dog that used to be on TV. You know the one.”

  “Benji,” Kayla filled in.

  “That’s it.” Mrs. Francis offered a wan smile. “I was afraid I couldn’t keep her, so I didn’t let my kids name her. I figured naming her would make it too hard to let her go.”

  Patrick rose to his feet. “Mrs. Francis, I appreciate all you’ve been through. You’ve obviously grown attached to the dog, and I suspect it’s going to be hard for you to give her up, too.”

  The older woman stood up. “Maybe,” she said, casting a glance at the little dog. “But I want to do what’s right.”

  Patrick placed his hand on her shoulder. “We’ll take care of her. Kayla is in charge of finding homes for our dogs, and she’ll make sure this dog gets a good one. I promise.”

  Mrs. Francis blinked several times. “Maybe one with children.”

  “Of course,” Kayla said. “A loving family with a big fenced yard. She’ll be very happy.”

  Patrick walked to the desk and said something to the receptionist. She reached into a drawer and handed him a slip of paper. He returned to Mrs. Francis’s side.

  “One of the grocery store chains in the area has been very supportive of our attempts to place strays. They’ve offered to offset the cost of feeding and caring for an animal when good people like you take the time and trouble to rescue them.” He handed her a gift certificate. “You can use this at any of their stores.”

  Mrs. Francis stared at the certificate. “A hundred dollars?” she breathed, then glanced at him. “I didn’t spend anywhere near that much. She doesn’t eat but a little.”

  He smiled. “I know, but you had to get here, didn’t you? And you’ve rescued her more than once. You deserve it, Mrs. Francis. Please accept it, and tell your children thank-you.”

  Kay la picked up the little dog. As she’d feared, she could easily count the ribs. She held her close and felt her shiver.

  The woman touched his arm. “Thank you, Dr. Walcott. You’re a good man.” She kissed the dog on the top of her head, then walked out into the parking lot.

  Kayla blinked several times.

  Patrick glanced at her. “You gonna cry, kid?”

  “I hope not. This kind of stuff always gets to me.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.” He took the dog from her arms and held it expertly. “Come on, little girl. Let’s see how you’re doing.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Patrick had completed the exam. Kayla assisted. The little dog didn’t squirm or try to get away. She lay still, completely docile.

  “I can’t decide if she knows we’re trying to help her or if she’s given up,” Kayla said, knowing he would hear the worry in her voice.

  “I see some life in her. I think she’s going to be fine.

  Aren’t you, sweetie?” He stroked the dog’s head. “There’s obvious malnutrition, and fleas. We’ll have to test her for worms. She’s probably never had any shots, but I want to wait a couple of days to start her on that.” He glanced at the clock. “Jo should be here.”

  He walked to the phone attached to the wall just outside the examining room. After picking up the receiver, he punched a couple of buttons, and then his voice came over the loudspeakers. “Jo, please come up to examining room three.”

  Less than a minute later a black-haired nineteen-year-old burst into the room. “Yes, Dr. Walcott?” she asked.

  “We’ve got a new resident.” He gestured to the dog. “She’s in pretty good shape, except for a few fixable things. Get her a basket and some soft blankets.” He frowned. “Are you on tonight?”

  Jo nodded. “Until 6:00 a.m.” The teenager hurried to the little dog and gathered her up. “Oh, what a pretty little girl.” She cuddled the dog close. “Does she have a name?”

  “Not that we know of,” Patrick said.

  “I suppose Muffin is out of the question.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Kayla smiled. Jo had been trying to name strays Muffin ever since she started working here, nearly a year before. Patrick had never agreed.

  “Mix up some of that special feed,” Patrick continued. “Small servings. No more than half a cup. But feed her every couple of hours, all night. Lots of water. See if she’ll go for a walk with you. You know where the extra leashes are. Use flea powder for now. I don’t want to shock her by giving her a bath. That can wait. Oh, and I’ll need a sample to test for worms.”

  “Done,” Jo said, and carried the dog from the room.

  Kayla stared after them. “Gee
, and I was going to offer to take her home with me.”

  Patrick walked to the sink and washed his hands. “I know,” he said over the sound of the water. “I could see it in your eyes. If Jo hadn’t been on duty tonight, I would have encouraged you. But she’s the best.”

  Someone was on duty at the clinic every night. There was a small room in the back with a comfy cot, a desk with an office chair and good light. When Kayla first worked for Patrick, she’d spent her share of nights at the clinic. Some of the ill animals required medication or postoperative treatments every couple of hours, but apart from that it was easy duty. She remembered getting a lot of studying done. Of course, more than once she’d brought one of her favorite dogs into the room with her. She’d often awakened to find a bemused Patrick shaking his head in disgust while a large canine took up more than half the cot and used her legs for a pillow.

  “Next Thursday I’m scheduled to speak at a children’s center downtown,” Patrick said. “If our new guest turns out to be as calm and good-natured as she seems, then I’d like you to come along and bathe her. I want the kids to see how to do it right. Maybe they can even give her a name.”

  “Not Muffin,” she teased.

  He grabbed a paper towel and dried his hands. “No Muffins, no Buffys.”

  “What about Mr. Cookie?”

  “I refuse to even comment on that one.”

  “I happen to like pet names. You want all of them to have people names.”

  “Of course.”

  She laughed. “Why?”

  He put his arm around her shoulders. “I don’t have to answer to you.”

  They headed for her alcove. “I know why,” she said. “You think dogs are people, too.”

  He ignored her and moved to her littered desk. After pushing aside a couple of folders, he found her desk calendar and wrote down the appointment for the children’s center.

  “You don’t trust me to remember?” she asked, trying to work up some irritation.

  “I know you.”

  Her emotions weren’t in the mood to bubble and boil. Probably because Patrick was right. She did sometimes forget appointments.