Bride in Training. Gail Martin Gaymer
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this is beyond the call of duty.”
She could picture Molly’s grin. “I know.”
She closed her phone and slipped it back into her handbag. Something about Martin irked her but intrigued her at the same time. He had gall, expecting a personal home visit. Dog shelters didn’t provide individual service. They did the best they could to save dogs’ lives by making them adoptable. But Martin had clout, and from all she’d heard, he liked getting his own way…unless that had changed, too.
A revelation came to her while talking with Molly, and Emily wanted to take care of that first before calling Martin. And she needed to get her mind in order. She wanted the tone of their meeting to be professional.
Once on the road, Emily realized Martin’s house would be easy to find. He lived next to Steph’s old home, from before she married Nick. Thinking of Steph, her mind clicked back to her first days at the dog shelter. Steph ran her doggie day care in the back of the building while Molly owned the shelter in the front. Both women loved dogs as much as she did, and it seemed like providence when Emily stumbled on the job shortly after the shelter had opened.
Dogs and three women who loved them. Meeting Steph and Molly had been a blessing.
Emily slowed as she approached the next corner. She veered into the right lane and turned. Glad she had the idea, she headed for a pet supply store certain that Martin hadn’t planned ahead. Dogs needed toys, things they could chew, and she wanted to pick up a training device to help Martin. He’d said he knew nothing about working with dogs so a quick lesson seemed suitable.
Shopping took only a minute, and Emily was back in the car. She stared at her handbag. She had to make the call. Thinking of tropical breezes and a lovely sunset, she calmed her thoughts. The technique worked for her. A Caribbean vacation had always been her dream. So romantic. The word jarred her. She forced her mind to a quiet place, then dug into her handbag and pulled out her cell phone.
After locating the scrap of paper with Martin’s phone number, she faced the keypad. Her fingers hesitated as she pressed the numbers. “Get a grip.” The phone rang and in minutes, Martin’s voice rolled through the line.
“This is Emily Ireland. Molly asked me to stop by so we could talk. Is today okay?”
“Perfect.” Relief sounded in his voice. “Do you know where I live?”
She said she did and hung up as soon as she could. After tossing her phone back into her bag, she turned the key in the ignition, pulled into traffic and retraced the route. Before long, her car nosed into Martin’s driveway. She’d never paid attention before, but today she sat a moment to drink in the homey look of his property.
Cedar-shake siding gave it a Cape Cod look, except for its sprawling size. Dormers accented the front windows, and a long porch enclosed by a railing added an old-fashioned look. Though the landscape offered low spreading evergreen shrubs beneath the dormer windows, Emily longed to see flowers. In spring, tulips and daffodils blossomed in beds around many homes. Grape hyacinths clustered in borders, but not here. Instead, a shade tree grew from a raised island with large stones and low-lying ground cover. If the house were hers, she would add flowers. Nothing seemed to make a home prettier than bright blossoms.
The vision made her ache for what might have been if she’d had a different life. She drew in a long breath, and instead of letting the mood affect her, she grasped the package and left the car. The closer she strode to the front door the more her nerves came out of hiding. He’d asked her to come. It wasn’t as if she was making a surprise visit.
Emily stood for a moment to gather her confidence, then pushed the bell. She heard a pleasant chime from within and waited.
The door opened, and Martin gaped at her a moment before he spoke. “That was fast.” He pushed open the screen door. “I didn’t know you were so close.”
She took a step backward. “If it’s a problem, I can—”
“It’s not a problem.” A faint grin slipped to his mouth. “Come in.”
Emily stepped inside, her gaze lowering to Martin’s stockinged feet against the stone-tiled foyer. Her stomach tightened. The image of Martin Davis looking as homey as his house seemed unreal. She’d never pictured him in jeans and a pair of socks looking like a regular homebody. He’d even flashed her a smile. The vision rushed through her.
Past the foyer, a family room lay in front of her where she could see patio doors leading outside. When he motioned her to come in further, she clamped her jaw to hold back her reaction. The foyer flowed into a huge living room with a stone fireplace and cathedral ceiling. Across the thick carpet she spotted a dining area. She loved the large open room, and when she looked at him, she couldn’t help but tell him. “This is wonderful for entertaining.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
She winced at his abrupt response. A distant sound distracted her followed by a scratching noise that caused her concern. “What’s that noise? Nessie?”
“I locked her in the laundry room where she can do less damage.”
Emily’s back tightened. “No.” She gave him a piercing gaze before she could stop herself.
He staggered back a step and looked at her with wide eyes. “What?”
“That’s not the way to train a dog.”
“No kidding.”
His sarcastic tone didn’t stop her. “Then why did you do it?”
His looked soften. “Emily, I don’t know how to work with a dog. That’s why I called Molly.”
She looked away, startled that she’d gotten so mouthy. “Let Nessie out of the laundry room. Then we can talk.”
He nodded and headed for the doorway off the dining room, his expression more like the man she’d seen when she walked into the house.
Although he hadn’t invited her, Emily followed. When she stepped into the kitchen, she quelled an appreciative moan. Expansive cabinets were highlighted by a large island. On the far side, a breakfast nook sat beside broad windows that looked into the backyard. She could imagine eating there in the morning, watching the birds flap their wings in a birdbath and squirrels skittering in the trees. She’d dreamed of a comfortable home with a pretty yard.
The scratching noise stopped, and Nessie darted into the room, her nails tapping against the wooden floor. She skidded to a stop beside her.
Emily lifted the terrier in her arms. Nessie’s tongue lapped across her hands before swiping her cheek. She cuddled the terrier, feeling her heartbeat pounding against her palm. “You poor little thing.” She nuzzled her face in the dog’s fur.
When she lifted her head, Martin watched her, a troubled look etching his face. “I didn’t think putting her in the laundry room was cruel.”
“No, but she’s frightened.” Nessie’s heartbeat slowed and she squirmed to get down. “Remember, she lost her owner, then spent two days with us, and now she’s with you. Can you imagine how you’d feel being taken from your home and locked in a cell like a prisoner, and then when you were bailed out and thinking you were saved, you were locked up again?”
Martin ran his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t think of it like that.”
His contrite expression wrenched her heart. When he lowered his hand, she gazed at his dark hair now ruffled by his fingers. He wore it with no part, short and thick with a natural wave. She longed to bury her hand in its thickness.
As if he heard her, Martin smiled.
Smile? She didn’t want him to smile. The pit of her stomach fell and rose, pressing air from her lungs. This yo-yo man vacillated from intolerable to lovable in the blink of an eye.
Her frustration weakened. “Can we talk?” She lowered Nessie to the floor.
He motioned behind