Wife for Hire - By Janet Evanovich Page 0,5
No one’s going to think you’ve turned me into a paragon of virtue and hard work when you go zooming around in a flashy red toy.”
Houses stood back from the road with increasing regularity. They passed a forbidding yellow brick building labeled Skogen Elementary School, and suddenly they were rattling down Main Street with its large white clapboard houses and tidy lawns.
It was a classic New En gland town, dominated by the Skogen Presbyterian Church, its white wooden spire punching heavenward through the rain. Big Irma’s General Store was on the right, hunkering behind two gas pumps and a sign advertising live bait and fresh pies. Then came Keene Real Estate, Betty’s Hair Salon, Skogen Sandwich Shop, Skogen First National Bank and Trust. That was the extent of the town.
The business district was left behind as the maroon truck pushed on. The land became more rolling, and the first of the apple trees appeared.
Hank turned into a private road that wound through the orchard. “You can’t see the house from here because it’s down in a hollow, but it’s just past that hill ahead of us.”
Maggie leaned forward and wiped at the windshield with the heel of her hand. She peered through the smeary circle she’d cleared, and gave a gasp of approval when the big white house came into view. It was just as she’d imagined. A gray slate roof, slick with rain, two stories of clapboard with lots of windows and a wide wraparound porch. A big black dog lay on the porch: Its head rose when the truck crept into the drive. Maggie could see the thick black tail begin a rhythmic thump on the wooden porch floor.
“That’s Horatio,” he said. “Man, it’s good to be home!”
Maggie gripped the plastic cat carrier on her lap more firmly. “You didn’t tell me about Horatio.”
“We’re buddies. We do everything together.”
“He doesn’t chase cats, does he?”
“Not to my knowledge.” He had scared the bejesus out of a few rabbits, Hank thought. And once he caught a squirrel. But as far as he knew, Horatio didn’t chase cats.
“Fluffy has always been an apartment cat,” Maggie said. “She’s never seen a dog. She’s really a sweetie pie.”
Hank gave the cat carrier a quick glance from the corner of his eye. Fluffy, the sweetie pie, was making unearthly growling sounds that had all the little hairs at the nape of his neck standing on end. “She sounds…annoyed.”
“Don’t worry,” Maggie said into the cat carrier. “We’re going to get you out of there right away. I’m going to take you into the house and feed you a nice smelly can of cat food.”
By the time Hank had stopped the truck, Horatio was wagging his tail so hard his whole body was in motion. Hank opened the door, and the dog vaulted off the porch. He hit Hank at a flat-out run, planting two huge paws on Hank’s chest. Both of them went down in the mud with a loud splat and a grunted expletive.
Maggie looked over and grimaced. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Hank said. He was spread-eagled on his back in six inches of brown muck. Horatio stood with his paws still on Hank’s chest. “I’m just dandy.”
She searched for something positive to say. “He sure seems happy to see you.”
This is nothing, Hank thought. Wait until he gets a load of Fluffy.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
The rain was pouring now and she had to shout to be heard. Hank was entirely soaked, and coffee-colored water was swilling around his pants’ legs.
This had to be one of the worst ideas he’d ever had, Hank thought. He wondered if he rolled back onto his stomach and plunged his head into the puddle, would it be possible to drown himself? At the moment it seemed his most pleasant option.
He looked up into Horatio’s face and took solace. At least his dog thought he was wonderful. What Maggie Toone thought of him was beyond imagining. He definitely wasn’t at his masculine best.
“Why don’t you and Fluffy go on into the house, and I’ll be along. The door should be open.”
Maggie nodded and slipped out of the truck, clutching the animal crate. She moved as fast as she could, but she was drenched by the time she reached the porch. Rain dripped from the tip of her nose and off the ringlets at the side of her face. She removed her shoes and stepped into the foyer.
“Hello,” she called, expecting the house keeper he’d promised. But