Spooning Leads to Forking (Hot in the Kitchen #2) - Kilby Blades Page 0,68
already prepared to make. If greed really was Don Jr.’s motive, Dev would make him a stupidly favorable offer. It meant he’d need to call in a few favors from a few more investor friends.
“One day, you know….” Trudy began haltingly, pulling out the pot of coffee at the same time as she switched in an empty cup to catch the drip. She walked the half-full carafe to the mug she’d set in front of Dev and pour him the beginnings. “One day, we ought to talk about a few things. Only, not when you’re half asleep and I’m about to go on shift.”
Whenever she wanted to have a heart to heart, it usually had something to do with Dev’s mom. Dev couldn’t think straight enough to speculate clearly on what had prompted Trudy’s offer. Maybe she was still stuck on what his mom would have thought of Shea.
“Can it wait ‘till all this blows over?” Dev said after his first scalding sip. “I don’t know if I can handle one more thing.”
26
The Breeder
Shea
“So I pulled a couple of strings…”
Dev leaned a hip against the counter in front of where Shea was sitting, plucked the remaining half of the morning bun she’d been noshing on off of the plate, and took a bite before putting it down. Dev sharing germs with her tickled her beyond reason.
“Oh yeah? What kind of strings?” She brought the pen she’d been bouncing between her fingers to worry flirtatiously between her teeth as she smiled up at him.
“Puppy strings,” Dev replied casually, “Remember how I told you about Brody’s wife? Jess, the breeder?”
“I still don’t know,” Shea hedged. “The more I think about it, the more I think I ought to go to the pound. It sounds like Jess’s dogs are in demand. Don’t you think the right thing to do is find a dog that no one wants?”
Dev seemed displeased by the notion. “The idea was to get a guard dog, remember?”
“And a dog for companionship,” Shea pointed out.
“Even if all you wanted was a companion, this is Colorado. Get on the trails with a Yorkie or a Cocker Spaniel, your dog’s just gonna be prey.”
Dev had to be exaggerating. Surely, plenty of people in the mountains owned toys and other smaller breeds. But he did have a point.
“Just what kind of strings did you pull to make one of these fabulous beasts available to me?”
Dev shrugged “One of their buyers backed out. I persuaded Jess to forget she had a waiting list. So…” Dev licked his fingers clean of sugar in a way that made Shea jealous. “Be ready tomorrow at ten o’clock.”
When Dev arrived to pick her up, the backseat of the truck was as she had never seen it. A dog crate sad at the center of the back seat. And six blankets that were fitted to drape over the seats had been installed. A bottle of water sat next to the crate, as did a couple of toys that seemed unpackaged but new.
Shea narrowed her eyes. “I thought we were just having a conversation. Dropping by to take a look. You seem pretty prepared for someone who’s just supposed to be taking me on an exploratory mission.”
He shrugged and shifted his gaze out the window. For a second, he looked far away.
“Figured I’d bring you a few things. I’ve got no reason to use them anymore.”
Dev shifted into gear at the same time she comprehended. He had owned a dog once. The fact that he had this stuff in Sapling meant Dev’s dog had been with him when he moved there a year before.
“What was her name?” Shea asked softly.
“His name,” he corrected. “Butch. He was a Shepherd-Husky mix, we thought. Most loyal dog you’d ever want to know. But he was old and sick. I cried like a baby when we had to put him down.”
Shea didn’t generally condone using cell phones while driving, but she didn’t stop Dev from thumbing around on his for a few seconds, until he handed her his own device. A picture of Dev and a sweet old dog were pulled up on his screen. She didn’t say anything, just let her eyes wash over the picture as she smiled at his memory, taking in a version of Dev who looked to be the exact the same age.
“Now scroll to the next picture,” Dev commanded gently as he made his slow way around one of the hill’s rolling curves.