The Puppy Proposal

Grabbing a diet soda from the break room, she sat at the back desk, away from the barking and hissing, with her stack of charts. But no matter how hard she tried to concentrate, her mind kept returning to Murphy and, if she was honest, to the man who had found him. Lots of men came through the clinic, but not many looked like some kind of Roman god.

And as if being gorgeous wasn’t enough, his compassion toward Murphy had bumped him up even higher on the sexy stranger scale of attraction. She had forgotten to ask him what had brought him to town. She knew he wasn’t a regular; Paradise was so small, she’d have heard about him if he had been here long. No, more than likely he was one of the few vacationers that occasionally found their way to Paradise.

The island definitely didn’t qualify as a tourist mecca; there were no giant, high-end resorts, nightclubs or theme parks to draw people in. But the beaches were pristine, and half the island was a dedicated wildlife refuge, so they did get the occasional nature lover. Somehow, though, Jillian couldn’t quite picture the well-dressed man she’d met last night as a bird-watcher.

She sighed. Not thinking about him wasn’t working; maybe she should be proactive instead. Mrs. Rosenberg should be home by now. If she was fast, she could pick Murphy up at the inn, get him back to his owner and still have time to grab a quick bite before the meeting of the Island Preservation Society this afternoon. Once the Murphy situation was handled, she could move on and stop thinking about the mysterious Nic.

Decided, she grabbed the phone and dialed Mrs. Rosenberg’s cell phone number. “Hi, Mrs. Rosenberg. It’s Jillian. I’m just finishing up here at work, and wanted to let you know I’ll be by with Murphy shortly.”

“Oh, dear, I was just about to call you. There’s been a slight change in plans. We girls decided to stop over at the outlet malls on the way back, and then, before we knew it, we were at that all-you-can-eat steakhouse. We’ve given our credit cards a workout, I’m afraid. But as soon as we finish lunch we’ll be on our way. I should be in town before three, and you and Murphy and I can have a nice visit then. I’ll make us some sangria with a wonderful red I picked up on the winery tour.”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to take a rain check on that sangria, Mrs. Rosenberg. The Island Preservation Society meeting is this afternoon. I need to head there right after work.” Jillian twisted the phone cord, thrown off by the change of plans. “I can bring Murphy by after the meeting, as long as that isn’t too late for you. I think we should wrap up by dinnertime.”

“That’s fine, dear. I can’t wait to see my naughty boy. I’m so glad he’s okay. I do hate how he keeps getting into scrapes. Won’t you reconsider keeping him? I’d feel so much better if he was with someone young and energetic like you.”

The elderly woman’s request tugged at Jillian’s heartstrings. She loved that dog, but there was no way she could keep him. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Rosenberg, you know I’d love to, but my landlord won’t allow it. Maybe when my lease is up...” But that was just wishful thinking. Paradise Isle didn’t have many apartment buildings, and none allowed dogs Murphy’s size. Renting or buying a house was out of the question on her current salary.

Somehow, she, the girl who had grown up wanting nothing more than a houseful of kids and pets, had ended up alone in a small apartment, without so much as a goldfish. That was why she had joined the Island Preservation Society. If she couldn’t have the Norman Rockwell life she’d always wanted, she’d have to settle for protecting her picture-perfect community instead. Paradise Isle was her home, and people like Mrs. Rosenberg were her family. “I’ll call you when I’m on my way. Have a safe drive back.”

“I’ll try, but Avril Clookie is driving this time, and you know what a flighty young thing she is.”

Mrs. Clookie was at least sixty years old, and about as flighty as a St. Bernard, but Jillian let it go. After saying her goodbyes, she found the consent form Nic had signed last night. His full name was Dominic Caruso, which sounded familiar somehow, and he’d left both his room number at the inn and his cell phone number in the contact section. When he didn’t answer at the room number, she dialed the cell.

“Hello?” He sounded out of breath, and she could hear wind blowing in the background.

“Hi, Nic, it’s Jillian.”

“Ready to pick up your patient?”

“Actually, there’s been a change in plans. It seems Mrs. Rosenberg won’t be back for a few more hours. I have a meeting after work, so it would probably be best if you brought him to the clinic. I can leave him here while I’m at the meeting, then take him home after that. I’m sorry to change things up on you.” She hoped he wasn’t too annoyed by the change of plans; his corporate look had screamed “type-A personality” last night.

“No problem. I just finished a run on the beach, figured I’d get some exercise while I was waiting to hear from you. If you want, I can—”

“Wait, you took Murphy running on the beach? His paws haven’t healed! He shouldn’t—”

“Whoa, slow down! Murphy’s upstairs sleeping, more than likely in my bed. I’ve only taken him out long enough to do his business, and I even rinsed his paws off afterward.” Nic’s voice was harsh, and Jillian felt herself flush. She shouldn’t have assumed. “I’m not an idiot—I do know how to take care of a dog.”

“You’re right, and I’m sorry. I’m just annoyed that I couldn’t take care of Murphy myself. I’m grateful you offered to take him in—really, I am. I’m afraid I let myself get flustered by the whole switch in plans. I hope all this hasn’t been too much of an inconvenience.”

“It’s fine. But listen, I still don’t like leaving him in a cage. Why don’t you just give me his owner’s address, and I’ll take him there myself? That way she gets her dog back and you can go to your...what was it?”

“A meeting over at the library. But really, I could figure something out. You’ve done more than enough already.”

“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it. I’d like to see him safely home, if that’s okay. We’ve bonded.”

“Bonded, huh?” She felt herself smiling; he seemed to have that effect on her.

“Sleeping together does that,” Nic deadpanned. “He’s a cover hog—don’t let him tell you otherwise.”

The image of Nic in bed, dog or no dog, was one Jillian did not need in her head. “Fine, I’ll give Mrs. Rosenberg your number. If it’s okay with her, she’ll call you and give you her address, arrange a time.” Jillian paused, “I really do appreciate everything you’ve done for Murphy.”

“Well, if that’s the case, there is a way you could pay me back.”

“How?” Maybe he wasn’t so altruistic, after all. If he was looking for a reward, he was out of luck; neither she nor Mrs. Rosenberg had the extra cash.

“Have dinner with me.”

“Dinner?” Her jaw dropped.

“Yeah, you know, the meal after lunch? I’m assuming your meeting will be over by then. I thought you could take me somewhere interesting, somewhere the locals go.”

“Well...the locals mainly eat at Pete’s. It’s not fancy, but they have great burgers, and the seafood is fresh.” Jillian tried to picture Nic in his business suit in the more-than-rustic atmosphere of Pete’s. “Or we could go to the mainland. There are plenty of restaurants over there, nicer places—”

“Pete’s sounds great, exactly what I’m in the mood for. Where can I pick you up?”

“I’ll pick you up, at the Sandpiper,” she countered. Even small-town girls knew not to get in a stranger’s car. “Is six thirty okay? The deck fills up fast on a Saturday night.”

“Perfect, it’s a date. I’ll see you then.” A telltale click signaled the end of the call.

She hung up the phone slowly. A date? Since when did she go on dates with random strangers, no matter how sexy they were?

* * *

At three o’clock that afternoon, Nic was parked outside a small pink stucco house with a very eager border collie. Murphy strained at the leash on the way up the front walk, apparently as eager to go home as he had been to escape. Nic rang the bell and tried to quiet the dog. Almost immediately, the door was opened by a diminutive woman in a teal tracksuit and rhinestone glasses. Her close-cropped hair was a shade of red that was not, and never had been, anyone’s natural color. Nearly blinded by the combination, he was caught off guard when she dove in for a hug, her short stature leaving her head resting just above his navel.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Each thank-you was punctuated by a surprisingly strong squeeze. “You saved my precious baby. My sweet boy. Such a sweet, naughty, naughty boy!” With that, she crouched down to hug the canine in question. Murphy, for his part, took the praise as no more than his due.

Finished with her exuberant greeting, she straightened to her full height, which he guessed to be no more than four and a half feet, and tugged on his hand. “Come in, come in. I’m about to open some fabulous wine that I found on my trip. You must have a glass and tell me everything that happened.”

Nic followed, intrigued by the tiny dynamo. He knew Florida was known for its active senior lifestyle, but he had a feeling Mrs. Rosenberg surpassed even that stereotype. Besides, he wanted to find out how Murphy was pulling his little escape act.

The house was immaculate, and filled with overstuffed furniture in shades of mauve and teal. Paintings of tropical flowers were on the walls, and a large brass manatee served as a centerpiece atop the glass coffee table. Through the doorway to the right he could see a small galley kitchen; shopping bags currently covered every inch of counter space.

His hostess dug through the bags, removing multiple bottles of wine before finding what she was looking for. Her wrinkled but capable hands deftly wielded the corkscrew, then poured them each a generous portion. He accepted the proffered glass and took a seat on the overlarge love seat, sinking into the soft surface. His hostess’s much smaller body perched on the chair across from him as she raised her glass to toast. “To Murphy!”

“To Murphy.” He sipped cautiously. It was surprisingly sweet, but certainly drinkable.

“Good, isn’t it? Grown right here in Florida. It’s made with native grapes. Lots of antioxidants.” She winked, then drank.

He nodded, not sure what to say to the winking, booze-pushing senior in front of him.

“So you found my boy. Jillian says he was all the way across the bridge this time! I am in your debt, son—if you hadn’t stopped, there’s no telling what could have happened to him. A car could have gotten him, or an alligator! We have those here, you know.”

Nic did know, but hadn’t thought about it at the time. Which was probably a good thing. Changing the subject, he asked, “Mrs. Rosenberg, do you know how Murphy escaped? Jillian said this wasn’t his first attempt. I’d hate to see him get out again.”

She shook her head, neon hair flying wildly. “It’s a mystery to me. I left him locked in the house, with his food and water. The neighbor was going to let him out for me at bedtime, but she says he was already gone. If he’d been outside, I might think he dug out, since he’s done that before, but from inside the house? That doesn’t seem likely.” She frowned in thought, her bedazzled spectacles sliding down her nose.

“Do you mind if I look around, see if I can find his escape route?”